WITH ANZAC Day approaching, I sat down with Brian Tidyman, President of the Hervey Bay RSL Sub-Branch and a proud Vietnam War Veteran. Our interview fell on his seventy-eighth birthday, a fitting time to reflect on his service.
The people he met and the experiences he endured shaped his life forever. Sharing these stories ensures future generations remember those who served.
Brian began in the Citizen Military Force before enlisting in the regular Army in 1964.
Boot Camp was unforgettable. Recruits were confined to camp for six weeks, working from dawn to dusk. During Wagga Wagga’s scorching summer, they spent three weeks battling grass fires with Hessian bags—an unexpected addition to their training.
Brian later trained at the School of Artillery in North Head, Sydney, earning the title of Gunner. By the time he was deployed to Vietnam, he was just twenty-one.
Brian recalls the old Australian ration packs as the worst—Bully Beef, rock-hard biscuits, and canned margarine that exploded in a greasy stream in Vietnam’s heat. Some rations were still stamped from WWII.
Soldiers carried up to 80 pounds, including the 28-pound SLR rifle, which never left their side—not even for the toilet.
While many stories can’t be printed, Brian shares one that still makes him laugh.
“In Vietnam, we had drop toilets and plenty of blowflies. To kill germs, we’d toss in smoke grenades—until someone threw in a real one. The explosion sent ‘you-know-what’ flying over the officer’s mess. We gunners found it hilarious! I always suspected my mate, Leo Muir—a full-blooded Aboriginal man, but he never owned up.”
Brian recalls another moment with Leo. While on leave, Leo, who called Brian "Whitey," suggested a bar. Inside, the place was pitch black. Jokingly, Brian said, "Right-Ho, Darkie, what are you drinking?"
Before he knew it, a massive hand grabbed him by the neck and pinned him to the wall. It took Leo half an hour to convince everyone that it was just their way of bantering, not racism. It was tense at the time, but the pair laughed about it for years afterwards.
Sadly, Leo passed away in his early 40s from a heart attack. Brian had the honour of carrying his casket, remembering him as a true gentleman.
Brian vividly recalls leaving Vietnam. After a fire mission, they flew to Saigon, then landed in Sydney at 1 a.m.
There was no debrief— just a quick pass through customs. The Army handed them their final leave money, told them to get out of uniform, and sent them on their way. They had no time to process what they’d been through.
Brian recalls his first thunderstorm after returning home: “I must have been dreaming when the thunder hit and thought mortars were incoming. Instinct kicked in, and I tried to shove my wife under the bed, probably why she divorced me. I still have nightmares, though less often.”
He never regretted his time in Vietnam, as it helped shape who he is. What he regrets is how returning soldiers were treated, often targeted by protests fuelled by the media’s coverage of the war.
Some of Brian’s closest mates are those he served with in Vietnam,
Though distance keeps them apart, he’s hoping to head to Melbourne later this year for another reunion—an afternoon of laughter, shared memories, and honouring those they’ve lost. Sadly, more than half are gone.
After the military, Brian continued serving others, joining the fire service and eventually becoming an officer.
Brian left for Vietnam as a young married man and returned forever changed. The weight of his experiences was something he could only share with fellow veterans—civilians simply couldn’t understand.
Reflecting on the challenges faced by those who serve, he firmly believes that more needs to be done to support veterans transitioning from the defence force. "There are still too many suicides," he said sadly.
By Kim Parnell
From What’s On Fraser Coast Magazine
