By John Mikkelsen

Ted poured himself another shot of rum and this time, sipped the neat, golden brown liquid slowly. He felt its warm path burn down the back of his throat to the pit of his stomach – but the numbness he sought had not kicked in yet, even though a third of the bottle’s contents had already disappeared.
Ann had finally walked out on him that day, just packed her bags and left without saying goodbye. But he could not really blame her. She had suffered his sudden mood swings and recurring nightmares for more than 25 years, until her own life had become one long, living nightmare. They had argued for hours the night before over something so trivial he could no longer remember the cause, just some of the bitter words which had followed.
Finally she had told him, “Bury the past and get a life, Ted. It’s time I started re-living mine”. The door slammed, and she was gone. She no longer had the patience to help him cope with the days ahead.
It was almost Anzac Day again and the constant hurting became almost unbearable at this time of year. Ted sipped the rum and stared at the television screen, totally oblivious of the images some Hollywood director had produced. His mind’s eye was replaying the real-life horror he and his mates had featured in many years ago back in the tepid jungles of Vietnam.
Ted was only 19 when his number had come up in the conscription ballot, but he had excelled at all stages of his Army training, topping his batch of recruits at unarmed combat and jungle warfare.
The night before the troop ship sailed for Vietnam, his Dad Stan, a Kakoda Trail veteran, told him, “Son, if you want to survive the Army, follow the Digger’s Golden Rule. Never volunteer for anything.”
But after only a year in Vietnam, Ted was invited to join a special clandestine squad, a hand picked group of only five men, who specialised in infiltration and sabotage behind enemy lines. Known as the Phamtom Force, they were practically unseen as they merged with the jungle and hit when it was least expected, sometimes spending weeks away from their Saigon base.
Always a bit of a loner, Ted jumped at the chance, his father’s words forgotten.
… That was how he came to be sprawled face down in the mud, the blood and the rain that night on the bank of a fast-flowing jungle stream, machine gun fire tearing chunks from the surrounding trees and mortar shells exploding all around.
The small squad led by Sgt Bill Atkinson had just demolished a bridge on a major North Vietnamese supply route, but not without a price.
A group of Viet Cong insurgents had been camped nearby and the sergeant was the first to fall under the hail of bullets. He was still conscious but bleeding heavily from a severe chest wound when Ted heaved him over his shoulder.
“Save yourself son, I’ve had it,” he managed to utter before his words choked off in a spasm of pain and coughing.
“Forget it Sarge, you’re coming with us,” Ted replied before struggling after his companions through the jungle canopy, Viet Cong in pursuit.
The driving rain made the going more difficult and the young soldier almost stumbled several times, but miraculously managed to stay on his feet. They made it to a spot downstream where the water was shallow enough to cross, when Ted felt the searing pain in his left leg and was knocked flat on his face by the impact of the high velocity bullet.
That’s where they were pinned down now – Ted could see it playing out on the big LCD screen right there in his lounge room, except it was no longer his lounge room and his leg throbbed as if it had just been shattered.
They managed to radio their location back to headquarters and it wasn’t long before the chopper’s unmistakable beat was heard roaring in over the tree tops, rocket launchers and machine guns drowning out the enemy fire. But the only clearing was on the far side of the stream and that’s where the Iroquois had to land.
One of his mates, Bob, shouted,“Come on Ted, this party’s getting a bit rough. Time we were leaving.” Ted knew the stream would make it impossible for one man to carry a wounded companion.
“I’ll be okay, take the Sarge first,” he told them. They looked at their badly wounded leader, who slowly shook his head. Bill Atkinson was tougher than the teak trees they were sheltering behind, but this time he looked like he wouldn’t make it.
“Just give me a rifle and prop me against that tree. That’s an order.” So they did as he commanded, Ted cursing them as they carried him across the creek to the waiting helicopter, which was already under attack in the clearing. But interspersed with the enemy fire, Ted could hear the familiar sound of an Australian SLR rifle firing round after round in return.
As soon as the four were on board, the helicopter took off, bullets slamming into the fuselage. That’s when they dropped the Napalm and the jungle below erupted into a huge orange ball. It was a sight that had sickened Ted then and which he saw almost every night in his recurring nightmares. The billowing flames filled the screen in front of him, as he stared with unblinking eyes. This spectre had cost him most of his friends, and now his wife was its latest casualty.
He had never forgiven his squad mates or the helicopter crew, but more importantly he had never forgiven himself even though reason dictated there was nothing he could have done.
He took another sip of the Bundy Rum when suddenly the phone rang, jarring him back to reality.
" Ted?… It’s been a bloody long time .. you’re a hard bugger to track down, how are you doing?" The voice sounded strangely familiar but distant.
“I’m surviving as usual, who the hell’s that?” Ted asked.
He couldn’t believe the reply.
“It’s Bill Atkinson, Ted.” But Bill was dead; he had to be. If the Viet Cong hadn’t finished him off, the Napalm would have.
Wry laughter through the phone dispelled the thoughts he must have spoken aloud.
“Dead? No mate, I’m not the Ghost Who Walks either. You don’t get rid of me that easily.
“Bloody Viet Cong dragged me out of that creek the next morning and thought I’d spill the beans about the unit, so they carted me off to a hospital in Hanoi where they patched me up.
“I spun them a few yarns with just enough fact among the bull and the dumb bastards bought it.
“To cut a long story short, after the war I married one of the Vietnamese nurses and we lived in Saigon or should I say, Ho Chi Min City for years before I could get the missus and kids back to Australia.
“I tracked down the other boys long ago, but it’s taken me all this time to find you. None of them had a clue where you were, but we’re all marching in the Anzac Day parade in Brisbane. Why don’t you come down and join us, it’ll be a hell of a reunion, hey?”
Ted booked his flight first thing the next morning. Then he started searching the directory for other names. He had a lot of catching up to do, but he’d start with Ann’s sister. He wanted Ann back. He wanted to tell her that now, finally, he could take her advice.
He’d bury the past and put its ghosts to rest.
But as long as he breathed, he would never forget.