Black Diamond Leader

F. Lt. Ralph Davidson, 77 Squadron’s Intelligence Officer, double-checked the facts with F. Lt. Geoff ‘Bluey’ Thornton who had been leading the mission. Thornton confirmed that he had called a squadron check just after withdrawing from the dogfight and that everyone had checked in. What was worrying Davidson was the fact that not all of the Meteors were back.

Reports were coming in that the MiGs had been out in force and a number of USAF flights had also met opposition. As time went on hope faded. It was obvious that the three Meteors had run into trouble on the way home.

Two of the missing pilots were Australian but the other was a twenty-four-year-old New Zealander serving in the RAAF, Sgt. Vance Drummond. Drummond’s Meteor had taken hits until Bruce Gogerty had chased the MiGs off. The plane’s electrical equipment had been damaged and it had been last seen in a tight starboard turn trailing fuel from a holed tank.

It was December 1, 1951, and Vance Drummond had disappeared for the second time . .

* * *

Vance Drummond was the youngest son of a large family, four boys and two girls, born to Mr and Mrs L. H. V. Drummond of Hamilton, New Zealand. He was born on February 22, 1927. He grew up in the Waikato district and attended Hamilton East School. Determination, one of the facets of his character, became apparent at a very early age as he always tried to keep up with his older brothers. At eight he demonstrated this by swimming with them across the Waikato River. He began his secondary education at Te Awamutu College but after only six months it was necessary for him to leave in order to help his father with farm work.

He became very interested in horses and by the time he was sixteen, he was an accomplished rider which he proved when he won the Morrinsville Cup. He also won ribbons for riding at the Te Aroha and Paeroa pastoral shows.

But these were the war years and the thoughts of young men were turned towards the armed services. He and his brothers were all interested in flying. His eldest brother had been killed in action while flying Spitfires with 111 Squadron, RAF, in 1941. In Morrinville, he joined the Air Training Corps and, as soon as he was able, he joined the RNZAF. He was enrolled in a navigation course that ended in September 1945, the last month of World War II – too late to be posted overseas.

Then the New Zealand Army announced that it was looking for volunteers to go to Japan with the occupational forces. When Vance and his brother, Nelson, found out they were the first in Hamilton to lodge applications. Vance at this time was still under 21 and it was necessary for him to obtain his mother’s consent in order to be allowed to go. He was trained as a cypher clerk and sent overseas with ‘J’ Force.

Just after his arrival in Japan, he applied for permission to attend a training course for interpreters. The army’s reaction was cool, after all, he had already been trained as a cypher clerk. However, Vance’s determination was undaunted and he finally had his way.

It was while he was acting as an interpreter that he first met the results of aggression. Among his duties, he had to interrogate Koreans who had fled from the Communist regime in the north. These people had risked their lives in perilous trips in small boats across the sea to Japan. Their stories impressed the young New Zealander and in a letter to friends at home he described their experiences as ‘heart-rending’. In this, his first experience of Asian Communism, there was nothing he could do to fight back, he was obliged to play the role of a helpless observer.

He served in Japan for three months short of three years and returned to New Zealand in 1948. On his arrival, he found that the air force was now seeking men who had been in the armed forces during the war and offering to train them as fighter pilots. The idea appealed to him and he applied immediately. But the result of his third application to serve in his country’s armed forces was different – it was a disappointing refusal. He was considered to be too old for the course. He was not yet 22!

But Vance was not deterred. Again his characteristic determination came to the fore. He had a goal and he would pursue it. He told his mother that if he was not going to be accepted in New Zealand, he would go to Australia and try there.

And that is exactly what he did! He was soon on a plane to Sydney. By chance, the aircraft was conveniently diverted to Williamtown; he had hardly set foot on Australian soil when he enlisted in the RAAF.

In August 1949, he began pilot training as a member of the No. 4 FTS Course at Point Cook, Victoria. It was while he was on this course that he disappeared for the first time. He set out, flying a Wirraway, on a low-level navigation exercise and failed to return. It was obvious that he had come down – but where? A search was carried out but as time wore on hope began to fade. Then, at last, some hours later, he was found, wet but safe, clinging to all that remained of his ditched aircraft floating above the waters of Lake Corangamite.

The course finished in February 1951, and Vance not only graduated as a sergeant pilot, he also came first. Graduating with him, also as sergeant pilots, were men who were later to serve with him in Korea.

Sgt. Drummond was posted to 78 Wing at Williamtown where he converted to Mustangs and then to Vampires.

Meanwhile, the Korean War was now a year old and in August he received a new posting, to No. 77 Squadron as a replace ment pilot. He arrived at Kimpo on August 29, the same day that the squadron’s Gloster Meteors had their first heavy engagement with MiG-15s. One Meteor had been shot down and the pilot, W/O R. D. Guthrie, had apparently bailed out. Another Meteor had been heavily damaged. (Refer to High Altitude Bail Out, AUSTRALIAN AVIATION, June 1981. )

The squadron at this time was commanded by Wg. Cdr. Gordon Steege, D. S. O. , D. F. C. , who was fast becoming convinced that the Meteor was outclassed in fighter-vs-fighter combat with the MiG-15.

Vance began operations on September 1 and he took part in many of the Meteor/MiG classes. Flying with him were others from the Point Cook days including Ken Murray, Bruce Thomson, John Myers and Vic Oborn.

At this time, the Australians often acted as escorts for the American B-29s. While on these missions they frequently found themselves involved in running battles between MiGs, F-86 Sabres and F-84 Thunderjets. Several hits were made on enemy planes but there were no definite kills. Similarly, the Meteors sustained damage on numerous occasions.

The United Nations pilots were always outnumbered, often 3 or 4 to one, and they were finding that the only plane which could match the Russian-built jet was the F-86. The performance and success of the Sabre so impressed the Australian Government that the decision was taken in October 1951, to acquire a licence to manufacture a modified version of the aircraft in Australia. Plans were made for production to be carried out by the Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation.

During the air battles of October, the pilots of 77 Squadron were always worried about hitting American planes by mistake. In a hectic dogfight, sometimes only a fleeting glimpse was seen of the swept-wing fighter that happened to hurtle by in front. But the Australians did their job well. At the end of one very heavy engagement the commanding officer of one of the B-29 squadrons, Colonel Wolfe, landed his damaged plane at Kimpo and had a few beers with the ‘Aussies’ who had given his boys ‘such good protection. ‘

Vance Drummond was in the thick of this air fighting and by the end of October the US authorities had recommended him for an American Air Medal for’ . . . his courage, aggressiveness and tactical skill. . . ‘ However, it was to be some time before the medal would be officially awarded.

Throughout November, 77 Squadron’s main task was to cover the return of fighter-bombers and again there were numerous clashes with the enemy. Several Meteors sustained damage but the only losses, two aircraft, happened as the result of a mid-air collision on Armistice Day.

Then came December 1 and the air battle over Sunchon. (Refer AUSTRALIAN AVIATION, March 1982. ) Vance, who had been on combat operations now for three months, disappeared for the second time. He was one of three pilots to be listed as missing in action. One of the Meteor pilots perished that day, but the other two, Vance and Bruce Thomson, managed to bail out and were taken prisoner by the North Koreans.

By the end of December, they had been delivered to the Chinese prisoner-of-war camp at Pinchon-Ne. There they met two other Australians, both former pilots of 77 Squadron.

The first was F. Lt. Gordon Harvey who had been captured on January 19, 1951, when his Mustang crash-landed during an attack on the North Korean capital of Pyongyang. It had been his 84th mission. Harvey had received some very rough treatment at the beginning of his captivity while he was in the hands of the North Koreans. After five months, in July, he was finally transferred to Pinchon-Ne.

The other was W/O Ron Guthrie who had been shot down on the day Vance had arrived at Kimpo.

Living conditions were somewhat primitive at Pinchon-Ne. The prison compound had been built around what was once the village school. This was a long building of timber and mud construction that had been built during the Japanese occupation. Some of the classrooms were used for indoctrination lectures and the others were used as sleeping quarters. Each room had a central alley on either side of which the floor was covered with straw mats on which the prisoners slept at night, covering themselves with a padded quilt, a blanket and a greatcoat to keep off the cold in winter. Outside each room, in the passage, stood a stove. A small ration of wood was provided for this so that water could be heated for personal hygiene and washing clothes.

The daily routine was irritating and simple. At dawn, the compound was awakened and the men assembled in the square, the former playground, for physical training exercises. Sometimes, on rare occasions, they had a short escorted walk along the road. Afterwards, there was a two-and-a-half-hour wait until breakfast. After this, the school bell sounded for the commencement of the morning session of political study. At lunchtime there was a break but no lunch. The afternoon study session began at two and ended at four. The second and last meal was at 4. 30 p. m. and this was followed by further study sessions. By 9. 00 p. m. lights were extinguished. This was the normal weekday routine.

The meals were hardly of motel quality. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays both meals consisted of an issue of rice and daikon soup. On Tuesdays, there was rice and beans for the evening meal with two and a half buns of bread. On Saturday evenings there was no bread but there were beans. On Sundays and Thursdays there was rice and pork soup in the morning and pork stew and bread in the evening.

On the surface, this was a somewhat tedious and irksome, but tolerable, routine. However, there was a little more to it. There was the pressure created by the disappearing prisoners. Every so often someone would vanish, wanted by Headquarters for ‘further questioning’, or perhaps there would be no explanation at all. Those who went were quite often not heard of again.

POW conditions in general had improved considerably since the beginning of the war, probably because of two factors. The first was the publication of the Handley Report on the treatment of POWs by the Communist Command. The second was the continuation of the peace talks. The Chinese spent much time attempting to create good publicity.

There were, naturally enough, not infrequent attempts to escape, and Vance Drummond did not divorce himself from them. One such attempt took place on Good Friday, 1952. While the attention of the camp was focused on the religious service and the somewhat limited festivities permitted by the Chinese, he and Bruce Thompson, accompanied by three Americans, escaped from the compound. Unfortunately, as was typical of the majority of these attempts, the escapees were recaptured within a few days.

They were held in the village’s old fire station in a form of solitary confinement. After a month they were given a mock trial staged by their captors, accused of having a ‘hostile attitude’ to the Chinese People’s Volunteers, had their ‘confessions’ (obtained through a combination of intense interrogation, solitary confinement and beating) presented to the court and were all naturally found guilty. Most of them were sentenced to another month of solitary confinement ‘in accordance with the Geneva Convention. ‘ This measure was stylish at the time because the Geneva Convention was being constantly quoted in the leading Chinese newspapers as the minimum standard by which all POWs might expect to be treated. One of the Americans was singled out for a heavier sentence because the Chinese considered him to be the ringleader of the escape.

Vance Drummond was to be a POW for eighteen months until his release in September 1953.

Meanwhile, in Australia, at the same time as preparations were being made to release the POWs, the prototype CA-27 Sabre was carrying out flight trials. It first flew on August 3 and it was more than just a locally built version of the F-86F. The RAAF had noted the American jet’s shortcomings which had shown up in combat over Korea and sought to remedy them.

The first was in the area of armament. The six . 5 inch machine gun armament, which was standard on the US Model, was replaced by two 30 mm Aden cannons. The Americans themselves had recognised the inadequacy of the armament and during the closing stages of the war they were testing, in combat conditions, F-86Fs modified with four 20 mm M-39 cannon.

The RAAF also considered that the American machine was underpowered and the decision was made to use the 7500 pound thrust Rolls-Royce Avon R. A. 7 turbojet. Since this engine was lighter, shorter and fatter than the J47-GE-27 in the standard F-86F, it was necessary to re-position it further back in the fuselage in order to preserve the original centre of gravity. Because of this the engine was no longer supported by the forward fuselage. To compensate, the rear fuselage was shortened by 26 inches (66 cm) and the forward section lengthened by the same amount to retain the standard fuselage length.

It was also necessary to increase the size of the air intake because of the greater power of the Avon engine. To do this the front fuselage was split horizontally and lowered 3½ inches (8. 9 cm). The intake was thus enlarged without having to completely change the complex cockpit arrangements. As well, in order to support the jet pipe of the Avon engine so that neither the tail unit flight loads nor the tailplane inertia loads were transferred to the engine, the rear fuselage, as well as being shortened, had to be completely re-designed. As a result of these changes, only about 40% of the original fuselage structure was retained. While the CA-27 looked like the F-86F externally, internally it was almost a completely new aeroplane.

As the test programme continued, no aerodynamic problems were encountered and few modifications were required. The only trouble which manifested itself was. A minor centre of gravity problem which was solved by weighting the nose with an 80-pound (36. 3 kg) load of lead.

Also as the test programme continued, F/O Vance Drummond returned to Australia. Not long afterwards, he visited his family in New Zealand. He said little about his experiences as a prisoner. To mention Korea in his presence would cause him to ‘clam up’ for reasons that were both professional and personal.

However, these experiences did not dampen his enthusiasm for flying and, back in Australia, he enrolled in and completed the Advanced Navigation Course. He was posted back to Williamtown with No. 2 (F) OTU as a staff pilot and during this time he completed No. 3 Fighter Combat Instructors Course. He ws to remain at Williamtown for. five years.

At this time, everyone in the RAAF was watching and waiting for the arrival of the new Sabres. For the pilots at Williamtown, the interest was much more than academic because some of them were to be members of the Sabre Trials Flight. Vance was one of the chosen few. Among the others were Dick Cresswell, two times commanding officer of 77 Squadron in World War II and Korea, and a familiar face from POW days, Gordon Harvey.

The first production Sabre, A94°901, had made its 35-minute maiden flight on July 13, 1954, less than twelve months after the prototype took to the air. The centre of gravity problem which had resulted in the weighting of the nose, had been solved in the production model by moving forward a pump that supplied emergency power to the controls. The production aircraft also incorporated a new integral starter motor and improved ammunition feed for the 30 mm Aden cannon. The following month the first of these machines was handed over to the Sabre Trials Flight for evaluation and conversion.

Vance and the other pilots soon realised that they had in their hands an aircraft that was obviously one of the most formidable of the Sabre family. It was much faster and had a higher service ceiling than the existing models, and had a climb rate almost twice that of the F-86A which had matched the MiG-15s so successfully over Korea. If only the Australians had been flying Avon Sabres instead of Meteors in those days!

The initial order for 72 aircraft was progressively increased and as production continued various modifications were carried out. The first 22 Sabres, designated Mk. 30, were powered by imported Avon R. A. 7 turbojets but subsequent aircraft used the 7500 pound thrust C. A. C. built Avon Mk. 20 and also featured the ‘6-3’ wing leading-edge to aid high altitude manoeuvrability. These were designated Mk. 31. Both Mk. 30 and Mk. 31 versions had provision for two external drop-tanks but the later Mk. 32 had attachment points for four drop-tanks.

They were heady and exciting days for Vance, flying one of the best fighter planes in the world, and they were made headier and more exciting by the arrival on the scene of a Newcastle girl called Margaret who would be the future Mrs Drummond. But things were going too well – there had to be a letdown. The bad news came in June 1955.

Bruce Thomson was dead. He had been killed in an aircraft accident on the 9th while formation flying over Werribee, Victoria.

The news deeply affected Vance – he had been a very close friend. It had been Bruce who had befriended him in the Point Cook days and the. Thomson family had welcomed the young New Zealander into their home like a newly arrived son. The experiences they shared together in 77 Squadron and as POWs had served to draw them even closer. To have survived Korea only to die in an aircraft accident seemed so futile . . .

On May 16, 1956, a special parade was held at Williamtown. The occasion was the presentation of American decorations by the US Air Attache, Colonel John Hussey, to three RAAF pilots who had served with distinction in the Korean War. Vance at last received the US Air Medal for which he had been recommended back in 1951.

One of the other pilots to receive awards on that day was F. Lt. Bruce Gogerly, D. F. C. , who had come to Vance’s assistance in that air battle on December 1, 1951.

Vance left Williamtown in February 1959, when he was posted to Headquarters Operational Command. By now, he had a clear aim in his mind and that was to obtain command of his own squadron. The less time he spent away from flying the better but for the time being he had to be patient. After his stint at Headquarters, he attended No. 15 Course, RAAF Staff College, and was then posted to No. 81 Wing.

In December 1961, he returned to an operational squadron for the first time since 1951. He was posted back to Williamtown as a flight commander of 75 Squadron. This was more to his liking and he was even more delighted when, in October 1962, he was given leadership of the Black Diamonds aerobatic team.

The Black Diamonds had been first formed within 75Squadron in 1961 but they had not been given full recognition by Operational Command. Just after Vance took over they were given notice to prepare for a display within two weeks. Their aerobatic practices were carried out in addition to their normal routine within the fighter squadron. On schedule, they gave their first official demonstration when they entertained visiting cadets from the US Air Academy at Richmond, NSW. The display was a resounding success and from then on the Black Diamonds were acknowledged as the official RAAF aerobatic squad.

Over the next two years, the Sabre Mk. 32s of the Black Diamonds became a familiar sight over many special functions all over Australia and also in New Guinea.

The name ‘Black Diamonds’ was derived from the shape of the formation in which they flew. This was in a four aircraft ‘box’ or ‘diamond’. The colour ‘black’ came from the squadron’s colours of black and white.

During a typical display, approximately 18 minutes were taken up with precision aerobatic formation flying led by Vance. Strict discipline and split-second timing was required because at all times during the manoeuvres, the planes would only be about eight feet (2. 4 m) apart. They flew at speeds ranging from 350 to 51o miles per hour (560-820 km/hr). To finish off the formation display, they would hurtle upwards in a vertical climb at 400 knots, increasing power as they went. Black Diamond Leader would then call ‘ . . . Vertical black delta, bomb blast . . . GO and the formation would erupt in different directions.

Following that, the fifth member of the Black Diamonds team, Major Joe Turner, USAF, would give a five-minute display of solo aerobatics to finish off the performance. Joe Turner was from Arizona and he had joined 75 Squadron in October 1961, on exchange duty. Prior to coming to Australia, he had flown F-100 Super Sabres.

They participated in the flypast saluting the opening and closing of the Vllth Commonwealth Games in November 1962, in Perth. They also gave aerobatic demonstrations at that time at Pearce Air Force Base.

In February 1963, they headed for Hobart. There they demonstrated their skills over the Royal Hobart Regatta which was presided over by HRH Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip.

Vance led the Coral Sea flypast over Sydney in May and the Black Diamonds performed over Darwin in July. In September, during Air Force Week, they gave displays at Pearce, Amberley and Richmond.

Vance led the Sabres from Williamtown in the formation of a cross over St Mary’s Church, Newcastle, as the Requiem Mass for President Kennedy ended.

In June 1964, the Black Diamonds turned up in Port Moresby where they participated in the flypast to celebrate the opening of New Guinea’s House of Assembly. Afterwards, they gave a ‘stunning’ aerobatic display before a crowd of 8000 people.

Unfortunately, however, the era of the Black Diamonds was drawing to a close. Not long after Port Moresby, the American member of the team, Joe Turner, returned to the United States. Also, 75 Squadron was scheduled to be re-equipped with the new Mirage fighter. It would be the first squadron to lose its Sabres and, with the parting, the role of official aerobatic squad would be handed on to another squadron.

Then, in December 1964, Squadron Leader Vance Drummond was posted to the Department of Air in Canberra. It was a sad leave-taking and Vance had to resign himself to the prospect of staff work again for the next three years. But there was compensation. In January 1965, it was announced in the New Years Honours List that he had been awarded the Air Force Cross ‘in recognition of his valuable service.

After twelve months in Canberra, Vance had settled in to the routine of ‘flying a desk’ when suddenly, out of the blue, he received three weeks’ notice to go to Vietnam and be attached to the US Air Force for duties with a Tactical Air Control Party. At the same time he was given the rank of acting Wing Commander.

The move was completely unexpected. John Myers, a friend and classmate from Point Cook days, and Korea, had been scheduled to take up the appointment but he had been injured in a traffic accident and was unable to go. Vance took his place.

He arrived in Vietnam for what he considered would be his third brush with Asian Communism and he was determined that this third time would be different. Instead of being helpless or on the receiving end he would dish it out!

At the beginning, he was assigned to the Seventh Air Force to study tactical air control techniques at the centre at Tan Son Nhut. On July 8, 1966, on his own initiative, he was posted to the 19th Tactical Air Support Squadron as a Forward Air Controller (FAC) for experience of a more practical nature.

Close air support, controlled by the FAC, was one of the most effective measures employed against the Viet Cong. The VC were elusive and highly mobile. They could set up an ambush and strike hard and fast. The old method used in the Korean War of having an air liaison officer with a ground unit who called for air support proved to be ineffective because the average reaction time was between three and four hours. In that time the VC could carry out a successful ambush and be gone. It was necessary for the Air Liaison Officer of Korean times to become airborne and more mobile. This he did and they renamed him ‘Forward Air Controller’.

The first FACs of the Vietnam War were all senior American Air Force officers with several thousand flying hours up and Vance, the first RAAF FAC, fitted in easily among them because of his long hours on Sabres.

The plane used for the job at this stage of the war was the Cessna 0-1 Bird Dog. It was a high-wing, two-seat observation plane which had been serving in the US armed forces since 1950. Its slow cruising speed of just over 100 miles per hour (160 km/hr) made it ideal for spotting enemy ambush sites and concealed troops. It had several shortcomings, however, such as its lack of armour, no self-sealing fuel tanks and short range. The low number of marker rockets it could carry was also a limitation on the duration of its operations. The later Cessna 0-2 was an improvement but it was really only a stop-gap replacement until the North American 0V-10A Bronco became available.

Vance and his American pilot operated an 0-1 Bird Dog they called ‘Snoopy’.

The FAC had to know his assigned area better than he knew the palm of his own hand. He had to know the habits of the local people, what sort of traffic could be expected on rivers and roads and be acquainted with the various tracks in use. If there were any suspicious circumstances he could request an air strike by calling Direct Air Support Centre.

The Direct Air Support Centre could not authorise an air strike without the approval of the local Vietnamese province chiefs, some of whom were extremely reluctant. If permission was given and the attack was to go ahead, the FAC had to circle the area waiting for the incoming fighter bombers.

When they arrived and contact was established, the FAC would mark the target with smoke rockets or smoke grenades. Then he had to control the action of the attack. This was the most dangerous part of the operation. Generally, before the target had been attacked, the VC chose not to fire on the FAC, hoping that they had avoided detection. Once the strike was underway there was no such restriction and as the FAC swooped down to assess results, the VC, if there were any still alive, would often give the plane a hot reception. The whole affair could be extremely frustrating and dangerous as Vance’s mission on August 2 demonstrated.

On this day there was to be a strike against suspected VC concentrations along the river south of Saigon. He was to work with a flight of tour F-100 Super Sabres from the 612th Tactical Fighter Squadron based at Phan Rang. When they rendezvoused over the target, Vance’s pilot pushed the tiny Cessna into a dive and fired market rockets. The target area was a grove of trees bordering the river opposite a Vietnamese village.

With the target marked ‘Snoopy’ climbed to a vantage point so that Vance could direct the strike. He instructed the first American pilots to attack with their CBUs to catch any VC who may have been in the open under the trees. The CBU-2A was a cluster bomb unit made up of several small anti-personnel bombs designed to separate when dropped to give maximum coverage of the target area. It was very effective against troop concentrations in the open away from fortified positions. The following F-1O0s were to attack with 750-pound (340 kg) napalm bombs.

But as the attack started, both Vance and the F-100 leader noticed enemy fire coming from the village on the opposite side of the river. Apparently, the VC had shifted into the village and they were firing from a large stone building situated in the centre. As the F-100s circled above, Vance identified it as a church. There was no doubt about it being the VC position because gun barrels could be clearly seen protruding from the windows.

He immediately asked the Direct Air Support Centre for permission to strike the village. A few minutes later the reply came back and it was negative – the Province Chief had refused. The Direct Air Support Centre insisted that the F-100s should continue to attack the original target, the trees on the other side of the river.

The Super Sabres screamed in again but it was obviously a waste of fuel and effort because the area was deserted. With each pass the VC, realising that they were safe in the church, increased the volume of their anti-aircraft fire. They even began firing on the Cessna.

Vance kept on pleading for permission to strike the church – bombs and ammunition were being wasted and it was only a matter of time before someone would be shot down. Finally, the Province Chief partially relented and gave permission to attack the village but not the church. By this time the F-100s had used all of their ordinance except for their 20 mm cannon. Nevertheless, they came down on strafing runs and with the first attack the anti-aircraft fire decreased but when it became obvious that the church was not the target the VC redoubled their firing.

The situation was ridiculous. The only VC in the village were undoubtedly in the church but the opportunity to hit them was being denied! The Cessna was also being peppered by a hail of bullets. There was only one thing to do, as painful as it was obvious, and only he, Vance Drummond, as Forward Air Controller, could take the responsibility. He at last ordered the Super Sabres to attack the church. They swooped down and used up their remaining ammunition on the building. The enemy guns fell silent.

Vance never found out how many VC casualties there were that day – the enemy had already gone, taking their dead and wounded with them, by the time ground forces arrived. The villagers were reluctant to give information because of the possibility of VC reprisals.

More positive results had been obtained on the night of July 24/25. There had been a heavy battle in his area in which friendly troops were trapped in forest country and surrounded by the enemy. Vance and his American pilot continually flew in low dropping flares illuminating VC positions and calling up air support in the shape of fighter bombers and helicopter gunships. They remained over the battle directing the strikes for three hours and only considered leaving when the fighter-bombers had gone, the flares had gone and fuel was running low.

But the enemy was still applying pressure on the encircled troops so they decided not to leave, to stay at the risk of running completely out of fuel until they were relieved by another aircraft with flares. The mere sound of a 0-1 circling overhead was enough to inhibit VC movements. After being relieved, they returned to base with the gauge showing empty and landed shortly before midnight. There the plane was refueled and rearmed. It was 12. 15 a. m. when they took off again.

Back over the battle they found that the enemy had mounted another attack. Again they swooped low marking targets, directing ground fire and calling up further air strikes. They were in constant contact with the unit on the ground which had suffered heavy casualties. Vance’s voice coming over the radio was the only link they had with safety. He and his pilot only left when their fuel was dangerously low again.

Landing back at base was a perilous affair. The base consisted of a thousand feet (305 m) of dirt airstrip shrouded in darkness and falling rain.

But the trapped ground unit was still under constant attack.

After snatching only two hours’ sleep, the two men volunteered to again fly back to the area. When they arrived they found heavy fighting, the VC had launched yet another assault. Again they fired flares and marker rockets in a bid to keep off the enemy. Again they summoned air strikes and until the fighter-bombers arrived they went in low, firing for all they were worth with the automatic weapons they carried in the cockpit. The 0-1 met heavy anti-aircraft fire but emerged unscathed.

When the fighter-bombers arrived they went in again, still in the face of heavy ground fire, to mark the friendly and enemy troop positions. Then, at long last, daylight came and with its coming they could see that not only had the trapped unit been saved, but there were over 150 enemy corpses littering the battlefield.

But the job was not yet over and ‘Snoopy’ remained in the area to mark the landing zone for helicopter reinforcements. Vance and his companion refused to leave until the area was secured. They had flown four sorties altogether and a total of eleven flying hours, plus five hours they had flown the previous day. The ground unit had received effective cover for at least 10½ of those hours. For his part in this action, Vance Drummond was recommended for the D. F. C.

Some time later a captured Viet Cong flag was presented to him by American ground forces. He sent the flag to the Department of Defence in Canberra and in October it was presented to the Australian War Memorial.

Meanwhile, Vance kept flying missions without respite and his skills as a FAC won him an enviable reputation. Captain Gene A. Teany, USAF, later wrote’ . . . we all considered him to be one of the best Forward Air Controllers we’d ever seen and at different times he helped all of us out of a tight spot. ‘ Teany had only met Vance personally on one occasion but spoke to him almost daily on the radio ‘ . . . and felt as though he was a close friend. ‘

Danger was ever present. Once a bullet from the ground missed his head by millimetres. When they landed they found the bullet on the floor. He tossed a coin with his pilot to see who would keep it as a souvenir. Lady Luck went with the American.

While he and his plane, ‘Snoopy’, became well known among the Americans, he only saw fellow members of the RAAF once a month when he landed at Vung Tau to pick up his pay and any mail.

For an action that occurred on October 27, in which he accurately and effectively located enemy positions for fighter-bombers, he received the Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star from the Republic of Vietnam.

By the time he had finished his tour of duty he had flown 381 combat missions, most of them of around three hours’ duration. As the RAAF’s first Forward Air Controller, he had set a high standard for those following to emulate.

Back in Australia, he was at last to now achieve his long sought-after goal – command of his own squadron. It was not to be just any squadron. It was to be No. 3 Squadron, one of the RAAF’s most prestigious fighter units. Three Squadron had its origins in the days of the Australian Flying Corps (not as a scout squadron though) and it won many honours in the Middle East and Europe in World War II. It was in the process of being reequipped with new Mirage fighters.

The old Sabres were being retired. A total of 22 Mk. 30s had been built, 20 Mk. 31s and the remaining 69 were Mk. 32s. Of those that remained, 16 were given to Malaysia and another 16 went to Indonesia. No. 75 Squadron had been the first to reequip with the Mirage and in May 1967, they took their new jets to Butterworth. Meanwhile, No. 3 Squadron, which had been stationed at Butterworth, had returned to Williamtown earlier for its changeover.

Wing Commander Vance Drummond took over his new command on February 2.

A little over three months later, at 4. 20 p. m. on May 17, Vance led three other members of his squadron in simulated fighter attack exercises at 35,000 feet (10,668 m) off the coast of Newcastle. They were well above a thick layer of cloud which was at 22,000 feet (6707 m). Vance’s Mirage went into a dive and disappeared into the cloud. The other three pilots waited . . . and waited. . . but the Mirage did not reappear. At last they decided to descend into the cloud but when they broke out below there was no sign of their leader.

After reporting their fears they conducted a search and thought they noticed an oil slick on the surface of the water. There was nothing else, no sign of a parachute, life preserver or rubber raft. It was just on dusk and there was nothing they could but return to Williamtown. An air-sea rescue helicopter dispatched to the area also had to give up because of darkness.

That night and all through the next day, radar-equipped, antisubmarine Neptunes from Richmond searched and re-searched the area, but in vain. The RAAF crash boat and air-sea rescue helicopters were also on the job but the result was the same. They were obliged to officially end the search at dusk on the next day. All hope was gone.

Vance Drummond had disappeared for the third time and the third time was different. . . he would not return.

During his years of service with the RAAF, those around him had seen Vance mature from a highly skilled, determined and uncompromising junior officer into an outstanding leader. With the command of a fighter squadron he had achieved his aim but there is little doubt that; in terms of his career, much more awaited him. To have survived Vietnam only to die in an aircraft accident. . . !

On April 5, 1968, a small figure walked across the floor of Government House and was presented with a medal by the Queen’s representative, Lord Casey. The medal was the Distinguished Flying Cross. Its presentation had been delayed while the citation awaited the Queen’s signature. It rightfully belonged to Wing Commander Vance Drummond. The boy who received it was his representative. . his nine-year-old son, David.