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and very wet pit next to each tent. ‘Fat lot of good that’s going to do me,’ commented the tall rangy singer.
    â€˜We might be doing a bit more digging,’ remarked Tom, ducking into his tent.
    â€˜Well, thanks, sir,’ said Col.
    â€˜Call me Maxie. Here, you might need this too.’ He handed Col his pistol. ‘See you both in the morning.’
    â€˜Listen, Maxie, this is clearly a big story. I can’t just go to bed. Is there somewhere I can find out what’s going on?’ asked Tom.
    â€˜Well, I don’t think the base command will tell you even if they know, but I guess you can ask.’
    Col was sitting on the stretcher bed tying his shoelaces as Tom stuck his head inside the tent next morning. ‘How’d you sleep?’
    â€˜Not bad. Should’ve slept on that pistol, might have been softer than the pillow. But thanks. How’d you get on at the base?’
    â€˜They were very tight lipped, but I stayed all night. It’s all happening at a rubber plantation only a couple of miles away from here,’ said Tom. ‘Long Tan is a place our boys have been through many times without problems, but it seems the Viet Cong have been burrowing there for ages. A hundred or so blokes from Delta Company from 6RAR ran into what probably amounted to a full enemy battalion.’
    The chaplain wandered over looking tired and grim.
    â€˜What’s the latest?’ asked Col.
    â€˜They’ve taken some casualties,’ he replied. ‘Radio contact with them was lost for a while. The Kiwi artillery moved in with support fire. We’re flying the most serious casualties to Vung Tau. I suggest you two go up to the command post and clean up and have breakfast.’
    At the mess they ate a bowl of cornflakes each, wondering about the men who’d been trapped in the Long Tan rubber plantation.
    â€˜Wouldn’t be much protection behind a couple of rubber trees, would there?’ Col said to Tom.
    A chopper pilot came past and asked Col how he was doing.
    â€˜Better than a lot of the men, I’d say. I’m Col Joye, how are you, mate? This is me mate Tom, the journo.’
    They shook hands and the pilot suddenly looked at Col and exclaimed, ‘Christ, I thought you had too much hair for a captain.’ He pointed at the pips on Col’s borrowed shirt and grinned. ‘My chopper’s back. It’s been out dropping Chieu Hoi leaflets. Bloody stupid idea. I wouldn’t surrender if a bit of paper fell from the sky promising me amnesty and hot dogs, or whatever those Yanks from the Information Service are saying. Anyway, I can get you out.’
    â€˜We’re ready, mate.’ Col put down his bowl of half-eaten cereal and followed the pilot and Tom to the waiting chopper.
    In Vung Tau, Col and Tom found the rest of the entertainers waiting for transport to Saigon, who were pleased to see them.
    â€˜Where’ve you blokes been?’ asked Little Pattie.
    â€˜Took a bit of a detour,’ grinned Col.
    Tom turned to Col. ‘There’s some wounded Aussies from Long Tan in the base hospital. I’ve arranged transport to go and see them.’ He stuck out his hand to farewell Col.
    â€˜Hey, we’ll come with you. You right, love?’ said Col, looking at Little Pattie, who nodded in agreement.
    At the base hospital they did the rounds, sitting at bedsides, lighting a cigarette for the injured, yarning about home and families.
    A harassed young doctor finally bore down on the party demanding they get the hell out of the hospital and announcing that the transport back to Saigon had been organised.
    â€˜You could be bringing in an infection, for God’s sake,’ he declared angrily. ‘Please go.’
    â€˜Ah, Doc, we’re just having a yak, doing the men a bit of good, I reckon,’ protested Col.
    He found Little Pattie holding the hand of a soldier lying quietly, his face creased in