Australian SAS in Vietnam – The Untold Story (Full Documentary Part 1)

And then there was Vietnam. The domino theory wasn’t just American paranoia. For Australia, separated from Asia by less than 300 m of ocean at its [music] closest point, every falling domino looked like it was pointed south. The fear was simple and visceral. Fight communism in Asia or fight it on Australian beaches.

So, Australia joined STO, the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization. A mutual defense pact [music] that sounded impressive on paper, but in reality meant one thing. When America went to [music] Vietnam, Australia would follow. But here’s what made the Australian commitment different. The Americans believed in firepower. Overwhelming force.

B-52 strikes, artillery barges, search and destroy missions with battalion-sized units crashing [music] through the jungle like armored fists. The Australians had learned a different lesson. In Malaya during the 50s, Australian forces [music] had helped defeat a communist insurgency, not with firepower, but with patience.

jungle craft, small unit tactics, living in the enemy’s territory, [music] moving through it like ghosts, denying the insurgents any safe haven. They called it the Australian way. [music] And in 1966, they decided to prove it would work in Vietnam. The first Australians had actually arrived 4 years earlier.

1962, the Australian Army Training Team Vietnam, known simply as the team. Elite advisers, handpicked, sent to train South Vietnamese Yarvian [music] forces. They wore no national insignia, operated in small groups, learned the terrain, the enemy, the reality of this war before most Americans even knew where Vietnam was on a map.

Then came 1965 first battalion Royal Australian regiment one deployed to Ben Hoa attached to the US 173rd Airborne Brigade. They fought the American way because they had no choice. Attached to US units, they followed US doctrine, but the casualties mounted. The strategies that worked for company-sized American operations with massive fire support didn’t translate to Australian tactics.

The diggers, Australian infantry, were good, but they weren’t being allowed to fight the way they’d been trained. So, in 1966, the Australian government made a decision that would [music] change everything. They would create their own tactical area of operations, independent, self-contained, a place where Australian units could [music] fight using Australian methods.

They chose Fuktai Province. If you looked at a map of South Vietnam in 1966, [music] Fuktai was the kind of place you’d circle in red and write avoid. 60 km southeast of Saigon, bordered by the South China Sea to the [music] east and dense jungle everywhere else. The provincial capital Bara was nominally under government control.

Everything else belonged to the Vietone. [music] The VC 275th regiment operated there. a main force unit. Not local guerillas with ancient rifles, but trained soldiers with modern weapons, [music] extensive tunnel systems, and supply lines running straight to North Vietnamese bases in Cambodia. They’d controlled the province for years.

They collected taxes, ran schools, [music] enforced their own laws. Fuktai wasn’t just VC territory. It was a functioning communist province inside [music] South Vietnam, and the Australian government decided to take it back. First Australian task force [music] one ATF would establish a base at Newadat small hill in Vietnamese.

A rubber plantation and jungle area sitting in the center of the province like a thumb pressed into enemy territory. From there they’d secure the roads, clear the villages, and deny the VC their sanctuary. But before the infantry could arrive, before the engineers could build the base, before artillery could be positioned and defensive perimeters established, someone had to go into that jungle and [music] find out exactly what was waiting there.

Where were the VC base camps? How many enemy forces? What were their supply [music] routes? Which trails were being used? Where were the tunnel complexes? How would the VC react to an Australian [music] presence? The Americans would have sent out company-sized patrols with helicopter support and artillery on call. They’d have crashed through the jungle, made contact, called in air strikes, and counted bodies.

The Australians had a different idea. They’d send four men, no helicopters, no artillery support, no quick reaction force, just four soldiers with enough ammunition to fight their way out if discovered, [music] and enough food to stay in the jungle for 2 weeks. They’d move silently, observe without being seen, [music] map terrain that wasn’t on any official chart, and report back on an enemy that thought they owned every square meter of that province.

The unit tasked with this mission had been training for exactly this type of operation [music] since 1957. They were experts in jungle warfare, veterans of Malaya and Borneo, [music] masters of reconnaissance and long range patrolling. They were the Australian Special Air Service Regiment. And in March of 1966, Third Squadron SAS became [music] the first Australian unit to deploy to NewAtat.

What they were about to accomplish would become legend. The Australian SAS didn’t exist to [music] be heroes. They existed because conventional military units kept dying in jungles and somebody needed to figure out how to [music] stop that. The regiment was formed in 1957 as first SAS company, [music] expanded to full regimental status in 1964.

The lineage traced back to British SAS, [music] the Special Air Service, founded during World War II by a man named David Sterling, who believed small teams of highly trained soldiers could achieve what entire battalions couldn’t. But the Australian version had been forged in a different kind of war. The Malayan Emergency 1948 to 1960.

Communist insurgents melting into [music] jungle, emerging to attack, disappearing again. Conventional tactics failed. Large unit sweeps [music] found nothing. The enemy simply waited until the soldiers left, then returned. So the British and Australian forces developed [music] new methods.

Stay in the jungle longer than the enemy. Move more quietly, live on less, learn to navigate without trails, become part of the terrain instead of crashing through it. By the time the Malayan emergency ended, Australian soldiers had become some of the best jungle [music] fighters in the world. They’d learned patience, silence, the art of appearing and disappearing, how to survive for weeks in terrain that killed unprepared soldiers within days.

Then came the Borneo confrontation. 1963 to [music] 1966. Indonesia’s attempt to destabilize the newly formed Malaysia. Australian SAS [music] operated in Borneo’s rainforests, some of the most hostile terrain on Earth. Triple canopy [music] jungle, leeches, constant rain, no roads, no helicopters most of the time, just small teams moving [music] through enemy territory, gathering intelligence, setting ambushes, proving that four well-trained men could control ground that companies [music] couldn’t hold. So when the call

came for Vietnam, the SAS didn’t need to learn jungle warfare. They’d been perfecting it for nearly [music] 20 years. But that didn’t mean anyone could join them. SAS selection was called the cadray. Soldiers who’d served in regular infantry [music] units could volunteer. Most did, most failed.

The course ran for several weeks. Navigation across impossible [music] terrain with minimal sleep. Endurance marches carrying 40 kg packs. Psychological stress [music] designed to break anyone who wasn’t absolutely self-reliant. Resistance to [music] interrogation training that left candidates questioning whether they actually wanted this.

The wash out rate was brutal, 70, sometimes 80%. [music] The instructors weren’t looking for the strongest or fastest. They were looking for men who could operate for weeks without supervision, make life or death decisions under extreme stress, and keep going when every muscle screamed to stop. Physical fitness was expected.

Mental stability was mandatory. But what really mattered was something harder to define. Self-reliance. The ability to function when cold, hungry, [music] exhausted, and alone. The discipline to lie motionless for hours watching an enemy [music] position. The patience to move a 100 m in an hour to maintain silence.

The men who pass selection joined squadrons that operated with a level of independence unthinkable in regular units. NCOs, non-commissioned officers, sergeants, [music] commanded patrols. Officers led squadrons but trusted their sergeants completely. rank mattered less than competence. [music] And unlike conventional forces, the SAS worked closely with the New Zealand SAS, [music] NZSA.

The ANZAC bond forged at Gallipoli in World War I extended to Vietnam. [music] New Zealand SAS operators integrated directly into Australian squadrons, operating as full members. No separation, no distinction, just highly trained soldiers who spoke the [music] same tactical language. In February of 1966, Third Squadron SAS received deployment orders.

[music] Squadron commander Major John Warf, experienced, calm, the kind of leader who listened to his sergeants and trusted his men’s judgment. The squadron flew [music] into Vonga in late February. First impressions: humidity that felt like [music] breathing through wet wool. The smell of newok ma’am, fermented fish sauce mixing with aviation fuel and [music] diesel exhaust.

Red dust that covered everything in dry season turned to red mud when it rained in the jungle. [music] Denser than Malaya, more booby trapped than Borneo. The VC had been operating [music] here for years, and they’d turned the terrain into a weapon. Puny stakes, sharpened bamboo stakes [music] coated with feces hidden in covered pits.

Grenades rigged to trip wires. Mortar positions sighted on every likely landing zone. [music] The Americans flew over this jungle in helicopters and wondered why they kept taking casualties. The SAS looked at it and understood [music] they’d need to learn it meter by meter. The old-fashioned way on foot, slowly, carefully, the way you learn terrain that’s trying to kill you.

Third squadron moved to Newad in March. The base didn’t exist yet. No buildings, no bunkers, no perimeter wire, just rubber trees and red dirt. and the [music] knowledge that VC forces were watching from the surrounding jungle. The SAS were assigned an area within the perimeter that would become [music] known as SAS Hill.

They pitched tents, hutches, and Australian slang [music] under rubber trees, filled sandbags, dug fighting positions, strung concertino wire, then started planning their first patrols. The relationship with regular Australian infantry [music] was complicated. The diggers at first ATF maintained strict discipline. Uniforms pressed, boots shined, salutes rendered.

The SAS wore non-standard camouflage, grew their hair longer, addressed officers by first names in the field. [music] They looked unmilitary. Some officers hated them for it. The spit and polish types who [music] believed discipline meant appearance. But the infantry soldiers respected them because SAS intelligence saved lives.

When an SAS patrol reported [music] enemy positions, the infantry knew that information was accurate. When the SAS said a trail was clear, you could move down it without fearing ambush. And when the SAS reported something [music] dangerous, you listened. Because if the men who lived in that jungle for weeks at a time said something was wrong, something was definitely wrong.

That be why late March. Third squadron was ready for operations. The mission was simple to state, nearly impossible to execute. Map the terrain, locate [music] enemy forces, identify their supply routes and base camps, and do it all [music] without being detected. Fourman patrols, no backup, deep in [music] enemy territory.

The SAS were about to introduce the Vietong to a kind of warfare [music] they’d never experienced. The VC were used to ambushing, setting traps, disappearing before the enemy could [music] respond. They were the ghosts in this jungle, but ghosts can be hunted, and the SAS were about to prove it. Newi in March of 1966 [music] wasn’t a base.

It was an idea with sandbags around it. The location was chosen for tactical reasons. Small hill, that’s what Newat meant, sat roughly in [music] the center of Fuktai province, close enough to the provincial capital, Bara, that supply convoys could reach it. [music] far enough into VC territory that patrols could interdict enemy movement.

The ground featured a low rise that gave defensive advantage and enough cleared space for helicopters. What it didn’t [music] have was anything resembling infrastructure. When third squadron arrived, they found rubber trees, [music] red dirt, and heat that turned metal too hot to touch by 9 in the morning.

The engineers hadn’t finished the perimeter. Artillery positions were partially dug. Living quarters didn’t exist. So the soldiers did what soldiers do. They built it themselves. SAS Hill became the squadron’s home. A section of the perimeter allocated to special forces. No barracks, no mess hall, no permanent [music] structures, just tents strung between rubber trees with sandbag walls around each position.

Fighting trenches connected the hutchies so soldiers could move undercover during attacks. Concertino wire in triple [music] rows around the perimeter. The living conditions were exactly as bad as they sound. The dry season meant red [music] dust penetrated everything. Clothing, equipment, food. Every breath tasted [music] like dirt.

The wet season turned the ground into liquid mud that made walking difficult [music] and sleeping impossible. Soldiers would wake up partially submerged. Fungal infections [music] were constant. Tineia became so common nobody bothered reporting it. Skin rotted between toes, and armpits, anywhere sweat collected. Soldiers wrapped their feet in powder and tape [music] before patrols, knowing that after a week in wet boots, the skin would peel off in sheets.

[music] The heat was weaponized. Noon temperatures regularly hit 40° C. Soldiers learned to do physical work [music] before dawn or after dark. Midday was for maintenance, equipment checks, trying to sleep in shade that provided no real relief. >> [music] >> And then there were the insects. Mosquitoes thick enough to coat exposed skin. Ants that bit like razors.

Leeches that dropped [music] from trees and burrowed into any opening in clothing. Soldiers returning from patrol would strip and find leeches attached in [music] places they didn’t know leeches could reach. But the SAS didn’t complain. [music] Complaining was for regular infantry. The SAS simply adapted.

They learned which trees provided better shade, how to dig sleeping [music] positions that drained when it rained, where to position hutchies for crossbre, how to make the miserable marginally [music] less miserable. The relationship between the SAS and the rest of First ATF was visible in [music] how they dressed. Regular infantry wore standard issue uniforms, haircut to regulation, boots polished even in the field.

Officers expected [music] salutes and formality. The SAS wore camouflage uniforms cut and modified to their preferences. Sleeves removed or rolled. Trousers blouse differently. Some men wore scarves or non-issue headgear. Hair was longer. Not military regulation. [music] Not even close. And in the field, the SAS addressed officers by first names.

John instead of Major Warf. Patrol commanders were called [music] by rank sergeant. But the formality stopped there. When you’re living in a four-man patrol two weeks [music] at a time, military courtesy becomes less important than trust. The regular officers hated it. Saw it as in discipline, lack of respect, [music] proof that special forces thought themselves above regulation.

But the experienced officers understood. The SAS operated differently because their mission was different. A four-man patrol 15 km from base surrounded by enemy forces couldn’t function with rigid [music] hierarchy. Decisions needed to be made instantly. Every man needed to think, not just follow [music] orders, and the infantry respected them because the intelligence was good.

When an SAS patrol [music] reported enemy positions, those positions were exactly where the report said they’d be. When the SAS marked a trail as dangerous, [music] it was dangerous. When they said an area was clear, the infantry moved through it without fear. That respect was earned patrol by patrol. Because while the regular infantry operated within artillery range and could call for support, the SAS went into places where calling for help meant nothing.

If an SAS patrol made contact with superior forces, they had two options: break contact [music] and run or die in place. There was no cavalry coming over the hill. By late March, the base was functional. Defensive [music] positions completed. Artillery cighted, communications established, supply lines secured.

First ATF was ready to begin operations. The SAS had a different timeline. [music] They’d been running reconnaissance patrols since arrival, mapping terrain, identifying trails, learning the jungle meter by meter. Now they were ready for deeper operations. The American maps of Fukai province [music] were worse than useless.

They showed roads that didn’t exist, missed villages that did exist, [music] marked terrain features in wrong locations, large sections were simply blank, white space on the map marked unserveyed. [music] The SAS mission was to fill in those blanks, find the trails the VC used, locate the base camps, [music] identify the tunnel systems, map the terrain so precisely that when infantry units move [music] through it, they’d know exactly where they were and what they’d encounter.

This meant patrols that would last a [music] week or more. Moving only a few kilometers per day, stopping constantly to [music] observe, record, report, living on dehydrated rations, sleeping in camouflage positions without [music] campfires or light, never speaking above a whisper, and doing all of this while surrounded by enemy forces that outnumbered them 50 to1. The Vietone owned this jungle.

They’ve been operating in it [music] for years. Every trail, every stream, every fighting position was familiar to them. They moved through it at night, set ambushes along paths they knew [music] Australian patrols would use, watched the base from concealed positions close enough to count [music] vehicles.

The SAS were about to enter that environment with four men, a week’s worth of ammunition, and the knowledge that if things [music] went wrong, there was no backup. But they had advantages the VC didn’t expect. Jumble craft learned in Malaya. Reconnaissance techniques perfected in Borneo. The patience to move slower than the enemy thought possible.

The discipline to lie motionless for hours while VC soldiers walk past close enough to touch. And something else, something harder to quantify. The absolute confidence that they [music] were better at this than anyone else. Not arrogance. Professional certainty earned through selection, training, [music] and experience. The Vietone were about to discover that their jungle wasn’t as safe as they believed.

That trails they thought secret were being mapped, that base camps they thought hidden were being located, that the ghosts in the jungle now had competition. [music] March 26th, 1966, just before dawn for men moved through the wire at Newat and disappeared [music] into the jungle. Patrol Commander Sergeant Peter Harris, 26 years old, Malaya veteran, selected for SAS after three years in regular infantry.

Known for moving through jungle so quietly his own patrol members sometimes lost track of him. Lead scout trooper Michael Williams, 22, navigation specialist, could read terrain like most men read newspapers. Signaler trooper James Macdonald 24 carried the Amper 25 radio 20 pounds of equipment that might [music] or might not work when you needed it to medic and rear security trooper David Chun 23 Australian-born Chinese spoke some Vietnamese [music] carried medical supplies and watched their back trail for men total combat load 40 kg each ammunition for 7 days of

light contact 10 days if they rationed food for 12 days [music] water for three with purification tablets to extend it. No resupply, no extraction and less [music] emergency. No backup. Their mission map the area west and northwest of Newad 6 km out. [music] The map showed jungle and marked several trails. Intelligence suggested VC presence but [music] had no specifics on numbers or locations.

The Americans would have sent a platoon. [music] 30 men with helicopter gunship support and artillery pre-plotted. Move fast. [music] Make contact. Call in fire support. Count bodies. This patrol carried a notebook, [music] pencils, and a compass. Their job was to not make contact. The movement rate was glacial by conventional standards.

50 m/ hour, sometimes less. This wasn’t terrain difficulty. This was deliberate tactical movement. Williams led, eyes scanning constantly, not looking at the obvious, the trail ahead, but at everything else. Branches disturbed, mud scuffed, spiderw webs broken, bent grass, anything that indicated human presence.

Behind him, [music] Harris watched the flanks and made navigation notes. Macdonald kept the radio [music] ready and watched opposite flanks. Chun covered the rear, walking backward [music] periodically, checking for signs they were being followed. No one spoke. Communication was hand signals only. A raised fist meant [music] freeze.

Pointing meant direction. Specific finger counts meant enemy sighted. The silence was absolute. Every piece of equipment had [music] been taped to eliminate noise. Dog tags wrapped in tape, weapon slings secured, cantens padded, belt buckles covered. The metallic click of military gear could carry a 100 meters in jungle.

The SAS eliminated every possible sound source. They moved off trails. [music] Walking on trails was suicide. Every trail was potential ambush sight. Instead, they paralleled trails, staying 10 to 20 meters in the jungle where movement was slower but detection less likely. By noon, they’d covered 3 km. They’d identified two trails not on the official maps, [music] marked both in notebooks with compass bearings and landmark references.

Found signs of recent VC movement, cigarette butts, [music] disturbed ground, broken branches at head height. They stopped to rest in a thicket [music] so dense they had to crawl in. No talking. They ate cold rations, drank water sparingly, listened. The jungle was never silent. Birds, insects, [music] monkeys.

The SAS learned to identify normal sounds. When the normal sound stopped, it meant something was wrong. A predator approaching or humans. At 14:30, [music] the birds stopped singing. Harris held up a fist. Everyone froze for 5 minutes. Nothing. No movement, no sound except insect drone. [music] Then voices. Vietnamese. Two men, maybe three.

Moving along the trail. Harris’s patrol [music] had been paralleling. The patrol was concealed 15 m from the trail. Motionless weapons ready, but fingers off triggers. Firing meant giving away position. Giving away position meant the entire patrol was compromised. The VC passed within 20 m. Never looked in the patrol’s direction.

They were talking casually, not tactical movement. Just moving from one location to another, confident they owned this jungle. Harris waited [music] 10 minutes after the voices faded, then signaled to move. They backed out of the thicket in reverse direction from VC [music] movement, then continued northwest.

By nightfall, they’d identified four more trails, two stream crossings, and [music] what appeared to be a frequently used rest area, flattened grass, fire pit remains, trash. They set up a night position in dense cover 50 m off the nearest trail. No campfire, pulled rations again, one man awake at all times.

To our watch rotations, Chin took [music] first watch. Macdonald’s second, Williams third, Harris last, so he’d be awake at dawn when movement was [music] most likely. The jungle at night was different. Sounds carried strangely, distances deceived, shadows moved. Every noise sounded like approaching soldiers. The mental discipline required to lie in darkness, [music] knowing enemy forces were nearby, not knowing if you’d been detected, was immense.

Some soldiers broke during night watches, started seeing things [music] that weren’t there. The SAS selection process weeded out men who couldn’t handle it. Dawn came slowly. First light at 0530. The patrol waited until 0600 [music] to move. Moving in twilight was dangerous. Enough light to be seen. Not enough to see clearly.

[music] Day 2 followed the same pattern. Slow movement, constant observation, meticulous notes. By nightfall, they’d extended their map coverage another [music] 3 km northwest. And they’d found something significant. A trail that wasn’t on any map. Wide enough for bicycles. Well-maintained signs of heavy recent use. This wasn’t a foot path.

This was a supply [music] route. The VC moved supplies on bicycles through the jungle. Modified bicycles that could carry 100 kg. They’d push them along trails at night. Invisible to aerial reconnaissance, faster than porters could carry loads. Harris marked the trail location precisely. Took compass bearings to landmarks.

estimated the trail ran northeast southwest [music] possibly connecting to the coast where supplies could be offloaded from boats. [music] This was exactly the intelligence first ATF needed. Interdict these trails and you cut VC supply lines. Block them [music] and you force the enemy to use alternate routes where they could be ambushed.

But confirming the trails extent meant [music] following it and following it meant increased exposure. Harris made the decision. They parallel the trail for two more days, mapping its [music] route, identifying any camps or storage areas. Day three, [music] the trail continued southwest. Signs of use were constant.

Bicycle tracks, footprints, resting areas where porters had stopped. At 11:40, Williams held up a fist. Voices ahead. Many voices. [music] The patrol went to ground. Harris crawled forward to observe. 40 m ahead, the trail widened [music] into a small clearing. 15 VC soldiers resting, eating, some smoking, weapons stacked, no sentries posted.

They felt completely safe. Paris observed for [music] 20 minutes. Noted the weapons, mostly AK-47s, some SKS rifles. Noted their direction of travel northeast toward new dad. Noted their relaxed posture. These were soldiers who didn’t expect contact. He crawled back to the patrol [music] and signaled the situation. They waited until the VC moved on, then gave them an hour head start [music] before continuing.

By day five, they’d mapped 12 km of trails, identified three major rest areas, [music] and confirmed this was a primary supply route running from the coast toward the interior. On day six, they found the tunnel complex. It wasn’t obvious, just a small opening partially concealed under vegetation, but Williams spotted it. The ground cover was too regular.

Deliberately arranged, [music] Chun crawled forward to investigate. The opening was barely large enough for a man. No way to know how extensive the tunnels were without entering. And entering was suicide. The tunnels would be booby trapped, possibly occupied. They marked the location, photographed the entrance, noted landmarks.

This intelligence alone justified the patrol. Day seven, time to return. They pushed their supplies to the limit. Water was nearly gone. Rations down to one day. Ammunition untouched. They hadn’t fired [music] a shot. But seven days in jungle had taken physical toll. The return route was different [music] from insertion. Never backtrack on the same path.

The VC might have discovered their trail and [music] set ambushes. They moved southeast, avoiding known VC positions, paralleling trails toward [music] NewAtat. At 1600 on day 7, they crossed the perimeter wire at NewAt. They’d been gone 168 hours. Covered approximately 40 km, made contact zero times, collected intelligence that would keep First ATF busy for weeks.

Harris reported to Major [music] Warf. The debriefing lasted 3 hours. Every detail, every trail, every rest area, every sign of VC [music] presence, the locations were added to maps. Patrol reports typed and distributed to infantry [music] commanders. One week later, an infantry company used Harris’s trail maps to set up an ambush.

They killed [music] seven VC and captured supplies moving along the route Harris had identified. The intelligence system was working, but the VC were about to adapt. Because on April 8th, an [music] SAS patrol made contact and the Vietong realized something was hunting them [music] in their own jungle. Before we continue with what happened on April 8th, you need to [music] understand how the SAS moved through jungle because what they did wasn’t normal infantry tactics.

It was something closer to art. The philosophy was simple. Reconnaissance means seeing without [music] being seen. The moment an SAS patrol fired weapons, the mission was compromised. Position revealed. Element of surprise gone. The patrol would need to extract [music] immediately. So the goal was always see and flee, not shoot and scoot.

Locate [music] the enemy, report their position, let infantry or artillery destroy them. The SAS weren’t there to fight. They were there [music] to find. This required preparation that regular infantry didn’t understand. Equipment modifications started before every patrol. Dog tags wrapped completely [music] in tape. No metallic sound.

Weapon swivels taped down. Cantens wrapped in cloth. Magazine pouches secured so they wouldn’t rattle. Belt buckles covered. Boots checked for loose silence. Every single item that could make noise was eliminated or silenced. Some soldiers carried [music] rubber bands to secure equipment. Others used medical tape. The method didn’t matter.

The result did. An SAS patrol moving through jungle made less noise than a man walking alone. [music] Scent control was equally critical. No soap, no shaving cream, [music] no deodorant, no smoking for 24 hours before patrol, no food with strong smell. The VC could smell Westerners from significant distance.

[music] Soap, cigarettes, different diet mint, different body odor. The SAS learned to smell like the jungle. Not pleasant, but effective. Some patrols went days without [music] bathing before insertion. Others rubbed mud on equipment to mask the smell of gun oil and canvas. Visual signature was minimized. No bright colors.

[music] No reflective surfaces. Watches worn face down. No jewelry. [music] Skin covered completely. Face, hands, neck. Some soldiers used camouflage paint. Others relied on dirt. [music] The packs were works of art. 40 kg of equipment but balanced so perfectly they didn’t shift [music] during movement.

Heavy items at bottom. Weight distributed evenly. Nothing loose, nothing rattling. Ammunition load was calculated [music] precisely enough for extended firefight if cornered, but not so much it compromised mobility. Most patrols carried three [music] to 400 rounds per man. If they needed more than that, they were already dead.

Food was dehydrated rations, no cooking, [music] no fires, everything eaten cold. Water was the limiting factor. [music] You can survive without food for days, but water in that heat was essential. Most patrols carried 3 L [music] per man plus purification tablets. The mental preparation was harder to explain.

Before insertion, soldiers would enter a zone of hypervigilance that regular infantry didn’t experience. Every sense sharpened. Sleep became lighter. Awareness constant. It was exhausting. 10-day patrols aged men faster than months of regular combat. [music] The movement techniques were taught, but truly learned only through experience.

The lead scout was the most critical position. He moved first, eyes constantly scanning. Not looking at the ground directly ahead. [music] That’s where everyone looks, but at everything else, the jungle 20 m ahead, the canopy above the ground to the sides. He watched [music] for disturbed vegetation.

Bent grass that hadn’t straightened. Broken spider webs. Spiders rebuild [music] at night. So broken webs during day meant recent human passage. Scuff marks in dirt. Bootprints. [music] tire tracks from bicycles, anything unnatural. He watched for traps, trip wires, [music] disturbed ground indicating buried mines, bent branches that might trigger grenades.

The VC were masters of booby [music] traps. A careless step could kill a patrol. The lead scout set the pace. 50 mph [music] meant he was doing his job. 100 m/h meant he was moving too fast. Behind him, the patrol commander navigated and made tactical [music] decisions. He watched the flanks while the lead scout watched forward.

He decided when to stop, when to move, when to go to ground. The signaler kept radio ready and provided [music] second set of eyes. In contact, he’d be calling for extraction while others fought. The rear security watched the back trail, walked backward periodically, checked for signs they were being followed.

In ambush situations, [music] heat cover retreat. Communication was entirely non-verbal. Hand signals evolved over years of operations. Some were universal military signals. Others were patrol specific. [music] Fist raised, freeze, fist pumping move, finger pointing, direction, number of fingers, [music] enemy count, hand across throat, danger, abort, circular hand motion, regroup.

The signals could convey [music] complex tactical situations without a word spoken. An experienced patrol could plan and execute an ambush using only hand signals. The listening halts were critical. Every 30 minutes, the patrol stopped completely. Frozen in position, listened. 5 minutes of absolute stillness [music] while every man used ears instead of eyes.

The jungle telegraph. Bird and animal sounds. Told [music] stories. Normal jungle sounds meant no threats. Birds alarming meant predator. Complete silence meant [music] something very wrong. The SAS learned to read the jungle like farmers read weather. Navigation without trails required constant [music] attention.

The lead scout used compass bearing. The patrol commander checked map constantly, correlating terrain features with [music] map markings. Dead reckoning, counting paces, adjusting for slope, marking on map. GPS [music] didn’t exist. Satellites didn’t provide positioning. Navigation was compass, map, terrain association, and experience.

Getting lost meant potential disaster. Lost patrols could end up in enemy base camps, [music] minefields, or so far from base that extraction became impossible. The night procedures were most demanding. Setting up harbor position, the patrols overnight location required finding terrain that provided concealment and security. Dense vegetation [music] ideal near trails bad near water sources risky because VC used them too.

The position had to [music] allow 360° observation. natural barriers on at least two sides, multiple exit [music] routes, concealed from ground level and air. Each man prepared his position silently, cleared ground of sticks that might snap, positioned equipment for quick access, loaded magazines, checked weapons, then began the watches. 2 hours each.

The man on watch sat motionless, weapon ready, listening, every sound analyzed, every shadow questioned, fighting sleep [music] while exhausted from day’s movement. The mental strain was immense. You couldn’t relax ever. Any noise [music] might be VC patrol. Any shadow might be scout. Your life and your patrols lives depended [music] on staying alert.

Men who couldn’t handle the psychological pressure broke during selection or early patrols. They’d start imagining threats, jump at normal sounds, make noise from nervous movement. The SAS weeded them out quickly because one soldier who couldn’t control fear endangered entire patrol. The successful soldiers developed almost supernatural awareness.

[music] They could sleep while remaining partially alert. Wake instantly at wrong sound. [music] Distinguish windm branches. Tell animal movement from human movement by rhythm and pattern. And they could lie absolutely motionless for hours while VC soldiers move nearby. No twitching, [music] no repositioning, no nervous adjustments.

Statue still while insects crawled over them. Leeches bit them. cramps, seized muscles. This wasn’t courage. It was professional discipline earned through brutal [music] selection and reinforced through training. The men who did this had proven through months of testing that they could control [music] fear, ignore discomfort, and function when every instinct screamed to move.

The 10-day patrols were worst. By day seven, supplies ran low. Water rationing meant constant thirst. Food rationing meant hunger. Sleep deprivation [music] accumulated. Minor injuries festered. Fungal infection spread. [music] Mental fatigue made navigation harder. And you still had to maintain the same level of discipline.

[music] Still move silently, still watch constantly, still make correct tactical decisions. Some soldiers called it becoming [music] ghosts. You stopped feeling human. Stop thinking about comfort or safety. Existed purely in [music] the moment, moved when appropriate, froze when necessary, observed and reported. When patrols returned to Newui Dad, the transition back was [music] difficult.

The hypervigilance couldn’t be turned off immediately. Soldiers jumped at sudden sounds. [music] Scan perimeter constantly. Had trouble sleeping without weapon next to hand. After several days, the adrenaline faded. The mind downshifted. They could relax marginally, eat hot food, sleep deeply, [music] interact normally with others.

Then came the next patrol, and the cycle began again. Between March and June of 1966, Third Squadron ran dozens of reconnaissance [music] patrols, mapping terrain, locating enemy positions, identifying trails and base camps. Every patrol added to the intelligence picture. The infantry commanders learned to trust SAS reports completely.

If the SAS marked a location on the map and said VC were there, they were there. The accuracy rate was near perfect, but the Vietnome were starting to notice. Their trails were being ambushed, their supply routes interdicted, their movements predicted. Something was providing the Australians with intelligence.

And on April 8th, they got confirmation. April 8th, 1966 [music] 0320. Four SAS soldiers lay motionless alongside a trail 4 km west of Newat. [music] They’d been in position for 11 hours. since 1600 the previous afternoon. Lying in mud, insects crawling over them, unable to move except to breathe. This wasn’t reconnaissance.

This was a fighting patrol. The mission had changed. First ATF command wanted to secure Newi Dat’s immediate perimeter. The VC were getting too close. Mortar attacks, probing patrols, scouts observing the base from concealed [music] positions. command decided to push the enemy back by making the jungle surrounding [music] Newui that dangerous.

The SAS were assigned ambush operations. Small patrols would set up on trails within [music] 5 to 10 km of base. Wait for targets, kill them, disappear before reinforcements [music] arrived. It was a fundamental shift in tactics from sea and flee to kill and vanish. The ambush team this night was led by Corporal Richard Walsh, 25 years old.

Borneo veteran promoted to corporal after exceptional [music] performance on reconnaissance patrols. The position was textbook linear ambush along a known VC trail. Three claymore mines positioned to cover 20 m of trail. Firing positions behind natural [music] cover. Withdrawal route planned and rehearsed. Claymore mines were beautiful weapons for ambush work.

M18A1 directional anti-personnel [music] mine. Convex shape. 700 steel balls embedded in plastic explosive. When detonated, the balls spread in a 60° arc, devastating everything within [music] 50 m. The claymores were positioned on the enemy side of the trail, facing back toward it. Detonation wires ran to Walsh’s position. Manual triggers.

He’d fire them when he chose, not on timers or trip wires. Precision mattered. The patrol had moved into position the [music] previous afternoon. Set up the claymores. position themselves then begun the wait 11 hours later still waiting. This was normal. Most ambushes resulted in no [music] contact. The VC might use different trail might move at different time.

Might not move at all. Professional soldiers [music] accepted this. You planned for action but expected nothing. Hoping for contact made you impatient. Impatience made [music] you careless. At 0320, Walshurd movement, not voices, just sounds, footsteps, equipment scraping [music] vegetation, multiple people moving along the trail toward the ambush position.

Walsh’s hand moved to the firing controls. Slowly, no sudden movements. 15 m away, visible in starlight, [music] filtering through canopy, figures appeared. For men walking casually, weapons slung, not tactical movement. Moving like they own the trail, they entered the kill zone. Walsh triggered all three claymores [music] simultaneously.

The night shattered. The explosion wasn’t loud like artillery. It was sharp. Crack, crack, crack. Three explosions [music] so close together they merged into one sound. The steel balls cut through the VC like industrial machinery. [music] Instant death. No screaming, no return fire, just sudden silence. After the [music] echo faded, the SAS poured a controlled burst of automatic fire into the kill zone.

5 seconds confirming no movement. Then Walsh signaled withdrawal. [music] They moved fast, not running. Running makes noise, but fast tactical movement. 100 m in 3 minutes. Then stopped. [music] Listened. No pursuit sounds. No return fire. The ambush had been perfect. They moved another 200 m, set up hasty position, waited 30 minutes.

Still no pursuit. Walsh used the radio. Encrypted report. Contact for enemy killed. No friendly [music] casualties. Position clear. Returning to base. They reached new perimeter at 0615. 2 hours before [music] sunrise. The night patrols always returned in darkness. Moving at dawn or dusk made you visible. Intelligence officers debriefed [music] them.

Infantry sent out a patrol at dawn to confirm the kills and collect any intelligence materials. They found four dead VC exactly where Walsh had reported. Weapons recovered, documents collected, body count confirmed. [music] It was the first offensive SAS kill in Fukai province, not the last. [music] Between April and June, third squadron ran continuous perimeter ambushes.

[music] Different patrols, different locations, same tactics. The pattern was deliberate. Never ambush same [music] location twice. Vary the times. Vary the trails. Keep the enemy guessing. Make every trail potentially deadly. The VC adapted. They stopped moving casually, started sending scouts ahead, used different trails, moved in larger groups for security, but the SAS adapted faster.

They identified the new trails, [music] studied the new movement patterns, adjusted ambush positions. May 3rd, ambush patrol led by Sergeant Bob Kernney. [music] Different trail 6 kilometers southwest of Newiat. Night position. Claymore set. At 2240, [music] a VC patrol approached. Six men moving tactically this time. Scout leading. Weapons ready.

Kernney waited until [music] all six entered the kill zone. The claymores fired. The patrol died before they could return fire. Six confirmed kills. No Australian casualties. May 17th, Corporal David Fraser’s patrol northwest approach trail dawn ambush. This time the VC thought moving at first [music] light was safer. 8 VC entered the kill zone at 0550.

The claymores killed six. Two survivors ran. Fraser’s patrol pursued 50 [music] m killed one more. The eighth escaped. Seven confirmed kills. One escaped. No Australian casualties. [music] The pattern continued through June. Small ambushes. precise kills, no SAS casualties. [music] The kill ratio was staggering.

Over the 3-month period from April to June, SAS ambush patrols killed approximately 40 [music] VC with zero friendly losses. The psychological effect was profound. The VC couldn’t move freely near NewAt. Every trail was potential [music] death trap. Every sound at night might be SAS patrol. The jungle they controlled for years was no longer [music] safe.

But the SAS weren’t satisfied. The ambushes were working tactically, but strategically [music] the VC still controlled most of Fukai. Their main forces were intact. Their supply lines, though [music] disrupted, still functioned. And intelligence was reporting something concerning. Radio intercepts indicated [music] significant VC movement, not individual patrols.

Large-scale troop movements. Main force [music] units repositioning. The SAS reconnaissance patrols pushed deeper. 12 km out. 15. looking for the main VC base camps [music] and staging areas. What they found would lead directly to the biggest battle Australian forces [music] would fight in Vietnam.

But first, the VC needed to learn one more lesson about the Australian way of warfare. Early August 1966, SAS reconnaissance patrols [music] began reporting a pattern. Increased radio traffic, more VC movement on trails, [music] larger groups than usual, and most concerning, the groups were moving toward Newad, not away from it.

Patrol commander Sergeant [music] Peter Harris reported observing a VC unit estimated at company strength. Over a 100 soldiers moving northeast along a trail 8 km from base. They weren’t local [music] guerillas. Equipment and movement patterns indicated main force unit, professional soldiers. Another patrol [music] reported fresh tracks indicating large force movement.

Battalion sized, possibly larger. Intelligence analysts at first ATF [music] headquarters compiled the reports. The pattern was clear. BC forces were concentrating around [music] Newat, not for defense, for attack. The SAS identified elements of the VC 275th [music] regiment. This was the unit that controlled Fukai. Their core strength was estimated at 2,000 soldiers, [music] possibly more with local guerilla support, and the intelligence suggested they were planning something significant.

On August 15th, [music] an SAS patrol located a VC assembly area 6 km east of New Signs indicated recent occupation by large force. Defensive positions dug, supply caches, command post structures. The patrol watched from concealment. Over 6 hours, they observed approximately 300 [music] VC soldiers in the area.

Weapons included heavy machine guns and mortars. This wasn’t harassment force. This was assault preparation. The SAS [music] reported the location with precise coordinates. Artillery fire missions were called. The VC dispersed before shells arrived, but the message was clear. [music] They were preparing for major operation against NewAt.

First ATF went a high alert. Defensive positions reinforced, patrols increased, artillery [music] pre-plotted on likely approach routes. On the night of August 16th, the VC morted New Dat not harassment fire. Sustained barrage. Over a 100 rounds impacted [music] inside the base perimeter. It was the opening move. August 17th dawn.

Infantry from 6 R, Sixth [music] Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment, sent out patrols to locate the mortar positions and [music] pursue the VC forces. Delta Company 6R moved east from NEWI [music] that into the long tan rubber plantation. 108 men led by Major Harry Smith. Mission [music] find the VC, fix them in place, call in artillery and reinforcements.

The SAS weren’t part of Delta Company’s operation, but their intelligence had put Delta Company exactly where they needed to be. The SAS had identified [music] the VC concentration, mapped the approach routes, provided the intelligence [music] that made the entire operation possible. At approximately 1540 on August 18th, Delta Company made contact in the long [music] tan rubber plantation.

What they’d expected was a VC company retreating after the mortar attack. What they encountered was the entire 275th [music] regiment plus supporting units. Over 2,000 VC soldiers in prepared positions with heavy weapons. Delta Company was surrounded, outnumbered 20 to1 under sustained attack from multiple directions.

A monsoon rainstorm reduced visibility to meters. Artillery support was degraded by weather. [music] Helicopter resupply and medevac impossible. The battle lasted over 3 hours. Delta Company held their position through ammunition resupply delivered by armored personnel carriers that fought through VC positions to reach them. Artillery fire called danger close [music] impacted within meters of Australian positions.

Individual acts of heroism kept defensive perimeter [music] intact. When the battle ended, 18 Australians were dead, 24 wounded. VC casualties were estimated at 245 confirmed dead, possibly hundreds more wounded and evacuated. [music] It was the largest battle Australian forces fought in Vietnam. Delta Company received unit citation for their actions.

Individual soldiers received gallantry awards. The battle of Long Tan became legend in Australian military history [music] and it validated everything the SAS had reported. The VC 275th regiment had been exactly where the SAS said they’d be. Their strength was exactly what intelligence estimated. Their intention to [music] attack NEWI.

That was exactly what the patterns indicated. Without SAS reconnaissance, Delta Company would have [music] walked into that ambush blind. Without the intelligence picture, the SAS built patrol by [music] patrol. First ATF wouldn’t have been prepared. The battle proved the concept. The Australian way. Small unit reconnaissance, precise intelligence, patient jungle craft worked.

Fourman patrols gathering information enabled company-sized [music] forces to engage enemy on favorable terms. After long tan, the SAS role expanded. More patrols, deeper penetration, more aggressive operations. The reconnaissance mission continued, but now included direct [music] action, ambushes, raids, prisoner snatches.

The kill ratio continued to astound. Through late 1966 [music] and into 1967, SAS squadrons rotated through Vietnam. The tactics refined, the intelligence improved. The VC learned that Australian special forces were different from American units. [music] American special forces operated from bases, ran patrols, returned frequently.

The Australians lived in the [music] jungle, stayed out for weeks, appeared where the VC thought safe, disappeared before reinforcements [music] arrived. The VC called them ma ghosts. The Australian SAS became the [music] unit VC commanders warned soldiers about. If you see them, they’ve already seen you.

If they engage, you’re already dead. If you survive contact, [music] you’re lucky. From 1966 to 1971, Australian SAS [music] conducted over 800 patrols in Vietnam. They inflicted over 500 confirmed enemy killed. They suffered three men killed in action. Three. That ratio, over 500 to three, represented more than statistics. It represented professional mastery of the most difficult [music] infantry mission.

Reconnaissance in hostile territory against a skilled, determined enemy who knew the terrain [music] intimately. It represented selection that removed anyone who couldn’t meet the standard. Training that taught [music] skills most soldiers couldn’t learn. Leadership that trusted men to operate [music] independently and soldiers who understood that discipline, patience, and precision mattered more than courage [music] or firepower.

The American approach in Vietnam was firepower and attrition. Send large [music] forces into the jungle. Make contact. Call in massive fire support. Count bodies. Move to next area. Repeat. The Australian approach was intelligence [music] and precision. Send small forces into the jungle. Observe without being seen. Report enemy [music] locations.

Let artillery or infantry destroy them or set small ambushes that killed without risk. [music] Neither approach won the war. Vietnam was lost for political reasons, not military ones. But the Australian approach proved that [music] small, well-trained units could dominate terrain and enemy forces far larger than themselves.

The SAS came home after 1971 when Australia [music] withdrew from Vietnam. Many soldiers continued serving. Some left the military. Most never spoke publicly about what they’d done. There were no parades, no national recognition. The Vietnam War was unpopular in Australia, just as in America. Soldiers returning faced protests, not gratitude.

Many veterans dealt [music] with PTSD, though it wasn’t called that then. Some struggled with civilian life after years of hypervigilance and adrenaline. The official records of SAS operations in Vietnam remain partially classified. Some patrol reports have been [music] released, others haven’t. The full story may never be public, but the men who served know.

They know what they accomplished. They know the standard they maintained. They know that when the mission required patience, silence, and precision, they delivered. The lesson of the Australian SAS in Vietnam isn’t about [music] heroism. It’s about professionalism. About doing difficult, dangerous work with discipline [music] and competence.

About achieving results through training and teamwork rather than firepower and numbers. Fourman patrols operating for weeks behind enemy lines. Moving silently through hostile jungle. Gathering intelligence that saved [music] lives. Setting ambushes that eliminated threats without risk. Adapting faster than the enemy could counter.

That’s not the Hollywood version of war. It’s not dramatic in conventional [music] sense. It’s quiet, professional, unglamorous, but it’s effective. And effectiveness, [music] not glory, was always the mission. If this story moved you the way it moved us, hit that like button. Every single like helps this story [music] reach people who need to hear it.

Subscribe and turn on notifications. We’re rescuing forgotten military history from dusty archives every week. Stories about soldiers who prove themselves [music] through skill and discipline. Real people, real professionalism, real results. Drop a comment and tell us where you’re watching from. United [music] States, United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand.

Our community spans the globe. You’re not just a viewer. You’re part of keeping these memories alive. Tell us your location. Tell us if someone in your family served. Tell us if you’ve heard stories about the SAS [music] in Vietnam. Just let us know you’re here. Thank you for watching and thank you for making sure these men don’t disappear into silence.

The Australian SAS in Vietnam deserve to [music] be remembered not as heroes, as professionals who did impossible work with quiet competence. And you’re helping make that