We had to hand our weapons in at the Torrens Parade Ground ... it felt really strange being disarmed. Many of us were reluctant to let go of our weapons. Now were back on board the Sydney sailing to Sydney Harbour ... half the Battalion had now disappeared and there was no structure left. Even the Navy guys seemed to treat us differently ... we were like passengers on a liner. The trip through Bass Strait was interesting, and the Navy guys showed us the sites ... Tasmania on right side and Victoria on the left side ... the passage through Bass Strait was pretty rough. Then idyllic sailing along the East coast of Australia.

Finally we passed through Sydney Heads and entered the harbour ... what a magnificent sight. We lined the decks ... the Navy called it dressing the ship ... but although we stood in a line we were all craning our necks for the sight of one thing ... The Coat Hanger (the Sydney Harbour Bridge) ... the symbol of Australia for all New South Welshman ... and then it came into sight ... an almighty cheer went up ... even the bloody Queenslanders cheered ... finally we were home.

We came alongside Garden Island Dockyard and there were people waiting to meet us ... family and friends ... I guess mostly for the Sydney boys ... even though I had enlisted from Canberra, my Mum and Dad still lived in Sydney. It was a beautiful Sydney day, warm with a slight harbour breeze ... but we were shivering ... we still hadn't acclimatised from the tropics. I introduced Dixie to Mum & Dad and we went off to the South Sydney Leagues Club for lunch. After that Dixie & I headed back into town to have a look around. A lot of the boys had agreed to meet at a club in Kings Cross that night. We looked around Sydney and felt like strangers ... we also found ourselves in the gutter at one stage. The new ANZ bank building was under construction and they were using Ramset guns. As soon as one fired Dixie hit the pavement and rolled into the gutter, I dived behind a mailbox ... the lunch time crowd looked at us, as if we were looney ... we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

We arrived at the Cross later that night and went into the Bar ... from memory it was the Bourbon and Beefsteak ... the American name should have given us the clue that there was going to be trouble ... a lot of the other blokes were already there ... so we ordered our bourbon and cokes ... a bad habit picked up in the 'Nam (I still drink them) ... and joined the other diggers at the table. The band was pretty good and the place was filled with some really nice round eyed girls. But unfortunately it was also filled with a lot of Yanks on R&R so we didn't have a chance with the girls. The band was only playing American songs and as the drinks went down our anger went up. They started playing the Yellow Rose of Texas ... that was the last straw. F**k it, we had gone away to fight a war no one liked, we were ignored when we came back, or jeered ... and now in our own country we couldn't even talk to an Aussie girl or listen to our own music. Someone (I don't know who) walked up to the band and requested Waltzing Matilda ... the band laughed at him ... "Anything by Slim Dusty" ... he was told to sit down and shut up. He returned to the table and relayed the conversation. We left the table and shut and barricaded the bar doors. All went quiet ... the patrons were informed that we had just returned from the 'Nam and that we wanted to hear something Australian and that if we didn't then this bar was in serious danger of being torn apart. The band played Walting Matilda ... and then we left. We said goodbye on the streets of the Cross with the prostitutes, pimps, drunks and junkies as our witnesses.

That was it. We were home, the war had ended and now there was nothing. Forget it and get on with your life ... we were soon to find out that it was best to pretend that it never happened ... expunge it from your memory and don't talk about it. We didn't know it then but we would learn ... that it never left you, each and every day you would remember something about Vietnam. And as the years passed you would get angry at the lies and the deceit, the false stories, the politicians, the radio and TV commentators, the so called documentaries ... but you would keep your mouth shut and keep your anger inside ... no one wanted to hear the truth. We were an embarrassment to the nation.