The first major clash came just before 1600 hours when, 11 Platoon was about to cross a clearing, only for all hell to break loose as they were decimated by withering fire. Half a dozen Diggers were killed on the spot. When it quickly became clear that his men were in dire straits, Smith requested that the entirety of Nui Dat’s artillery be trained on the enemy position, to give 11 Platoon a chance. “I want all the guns in support – the whole regiment,” he roared down the receiver of the field telephone to Colonel Colin Townsend at Nui Dat. “Give me all the guns they’ve got!” “Leave the guns to the gunners,” Townsend replied crisply, in a voice that reminded Smith he was talking to a superior officer. But the Ratcatcher would not be bowed. Shouting over the roar of gunfire, he barked back: “I want the whole regiment now!” The line went dead, but only a short time later, all four batteries, all 24 guns –were on the job.

Meanwhile, the soldiers and officers Smith had so assiduously trained, were performing well. Though only months earlier barely any of them had ever fired a shot in anger, they now fought like tigers, delivering covering fire for each other, and keeping enough fire on the enemy – all of it now in pounding tropical rain – that they could not be simply overwhelmed. Yet. Smith gave orders for 12 Platoon and 10 Platoon to move forward to give 11 Platoon the covering fire they would need to pull back, while urging the Nui Dat command to send out the squadron of a dozen Armoured Personnel Carriers to get to them. Now. Compounding their problems were that they were running out of ammunition. Smith (right) on the frontline in Vietnam. Credit: Australian Army Smith made his most important decision of the afternoon: He chose to make what risked being their last stand near the top of a gentle slope that faced towards the bulk of the enemy to the east. It offered a natural protection to most of the enemy fire which would fly overhead, while also allowing those on the perimeter at the top of the slope to get clear shots at “Charlie”. By 1800 hours the survivors of Delta Company had regrouped to form that perimeter when, with extraordinary bravery, the crews of two Australian choppers risked their lives and disobeyed serious protocols, to fly over the battle and drop cases of ammunition bang on their noggins.

But things remained grim. As swarms of brave VC soldiers kept getting closer, Smith sent out a famous order through to the Nui Dat artillery Fire Control Centre. “Drop fifty, Danger Close, Fire for effect.” Did he say “Danger close”? HQ came back: “Negative, unsafe. Over.” ‘If you don’t send someone out in ten minutes, forget us – we’ll be gone.’ Harry Smith on the phone to Australian headquarters during the Battle of Long Tan in 1966. Yes, “Danger Close”, the order to drop the shells within a stone’s throw of them, so that all enemy within coo-ee would be decimated, and all of their own with their heads down should likely survive was a recognised artillery tactic, but it had never been used by the Australians in battle. HQ repeated their signal: “Negative, unsafe. Over.” Looking out at the human waves of VC soldiers about to engulf them, Smith did not hesitate. Grabbing the transmitter from his signaller, he barked into it: “Give us the f******* guns where we want them or you will lose the bloody lot of us.”

There was a long pause and the answer came back. “Acknowledge, Drop fifty, Danger Close, Fire for effect.” The enemy’s own position placed them at a great disadvantage. “The VC,” Smith noted, “were silhouetted against the smoke, mist, rain and cordite and our riflemen and machine-gunners mowed them down. It was like shooting ducks.” Still, however, they were nearly engulfed. In extremis, Smith got another message through to Townsend, to get the APCs to hurry: “If you don’t send someone out in ten minutes,” Smith goes on, “forget us – we’ll be gone!” As the Australians of Delta Company continued to take casualties, and wave after wave of VC kept coming, above the chattering roar Smith shouted to his men: “Shrink the perimeter, and surround the wounded!” The perimeter was shrunk and the wounded, nearly two dozen of them by now, in a ditch being attended to by one frenzied medic, surrounded. Finally, just on dusk at 1900 hours, the APCs arrived like a cavalry force of yore, and the last hope of the VC to overwhelm Delta Company was gone. The Australians lost eighteen men killed in the battle. The estimates for the VC would vary, but it was likely around 250 killed. For most of the rest of Smith’s life, and most particularly after he left the Army a decade later, he fought for the bravery of his men to be properly and more widely recognised. It took until the final days of the Howard government in 2007 for some of the awards to be upgraded, but Smith kept going for another decade until the last of the bravery awards he’d fought for and originally recommended, came through.