Dave Morgan - Ice Journey: A Story of Adventure, Escape and Salvation

ICE JOURNEY

A story of adventure, escape and salvation

ICE JOURNEY

A story of adventure, escape and salvation

Dave Morgan

First published in 2010

Copyright Dave Morgan 2010

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Big Sky Publishing Pty Ltd

PO Box 303

Newport, NSW, 2106 Australia

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author: Morgan, Dave.

Title: Ice journey: a story of adventure, escape and salvation / Dave Morgan.

ISBN: 9780980658248 (pbk.) Subjects: Morgan, Dave.

Vietnam War, 1961-1975--Veterans--Australia--Biography.

Veterans--Australia--Biography. Meteorologists--Antarctica--Biography.

Post-traumatic stress disorder--Australia.

Antarctica--Biography.

Dewey Number: 305.906970994

Senior Editors Sharon Evans, Alistair Mival

Edit by Cathy Bay

Proofreading by Virginia Laugesen

Cover and layout design by Think Productions

Typesetting by Think Productions

Printed in Australia by Ligare Pty Ltd

Cover photo has been merged: Dave Morgan on the ice at Davis. Iceberg in distance as the Aurora Australis chews through the ice.

In memory of my mother, Sybil Ornsby (Cookson) Morgan.

To my wife Debra, daughter Michelle and son David.

To all the expeditioners I have served with and other expeditioners who have served Australia in South Polar Regions.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I want to thank a few special people.

Nick Quigley OAM, a mate I served with in Vietnam. He was always at me to write a book about my adventures down south and was my initial inspiration to put pen to paper. Nick put me onto Nev Tickner, a Rockhampton writer, and also a Vietnam veteran. Nev helped me get started and encouraged me to write my story.

This led me to Paul Ham, the author of Kokoda. I received an email from Paul (through a Vietnam veterans group) stating he wanted to talk to any Vietnam veterans about their experiences as he was writing a book on the war in Vietnam. As I had already written my story using my Vietnam diaries, I thought he might be interested, so I contacted him. Paul gave me encouragement to move forward with my Antarctica story.

Cathy Bay, who edited my book, is originally from Vancouver, Canada, but now lives in Queensland. From that first conversation I realised Cathy was the editor for me. I was enthused with Cathy because of her knowledge on freezing climates she had lived in Canada and her adventures on the sea and on ground, push-biking around Australia.

Before moving forward we decided it was best to meet. We hit it off straight away. Our writing sessions would happen once a month, sorting through my diaries and viewing the videos that I filmed down south.

Without Cathy, this book would not have been completed. She has three gifts she is a good listener, very dedicated and a hard worker. I cannot express my gratitude to her enough.

Also important to this process, David Murphy and his wife Lizzy for editing the story their help was invaluable. I would also like to thank Sharon Evans for her assistance in writing this book, and my publisher Big Sky Publishing, for giving me the opportunity to tell my story.

And of course, my family, who supported me every bit of the way on my trips to Antarctica. In total I was away from home just on two years. Some families probably would not tolerate it. Deb, Michelle, and David were very understanding and sacrificed a husband and a father so that I could satisfy my cravings for Antarctica.

I remember at my going away party, just before I headed off to Davis, my second posting, a lady said to me, If you were my husband, I know what I would do. Id either leave you or kick you out. I wouldnt stand for it. You must have the most understanding family in the world.

That sums it up pretty well.

I think all Vietnam veterans thrive on isolation. Looking back I enjoyed every bit of the peace and quiet at the Antarctic bases and at Giles in the Gibson Desert. All of which I couldnt have accessed without the goodwill of my family. Thank you.

Finally, all the expeditioners I served with down south all characters and gifted people from all walks of life. To me there is not enough recognition for the men and women who serve at our Antarctica bases of Macquarie Island, Casey, Davis and Mawson.

Special thanks to Mark Maxwell, Gil Barton, Malcom Foster and Di Beamish for their stories and Dr Flanagan for his article on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Nanette Madan for her Antarctic painting.

From tradies, to science boffins, Met fairies, doctors, chefs, comms, Station Leaders, to all who serve this represents your story.

Dave Morgan

PROLOGUE

Moments in life can often be categorised as before or after a defining event. Calendars revolve around Christ, families talk about divorces or deaths. My defining event occurred on a night that started like so many others but ended with me as a different person. I was young, idealistic and serving my country in a misunderstood war far from home in an exotic location.

It was mid-January 1969 and I was working at a forward fire support base called Julia in Vietnam. My unit, the 104 Signal Squadron, was part of the 1st Australian Task Forces Operation Goodwood.

The days were long. I worked in the signal centre (an Armoured Command Vehicle) from 0800-1700 hours before gun pit duty from 2200-2400 hours and again from 0400-0600 hours, or a similar variation. Sleep was no longer that well-deserved rest at the end of the day but an elusive state grabbed in small snatches a few hours at a time.

Every night we came under Viet Cong (VC) attack. I would slide into my pit hole, knuckles white as I gripped my SLR rifle, and watch as our armoured tanks and gun pit personnel fired into the jungle where they thought the VC were hiding. Night would become day as flares ignited around the base and incoming tracer bullets whizzed overhead. Nothing, not even the best training, prepares you for the awful sounds of war; the cracking of flares, the booming of guns, the sound of human confusion. Attacks continued through the night and by the time dawn arrived we were completely drained of physical and mental energy.

The night of my defining moment I was in a deep sleep in my pit hole. The Viet Cong hit our base at 0200 hours with small arms fire and mortar shells, one of which landed nearby and caused the left side of my hole to collapse.

I cant breathe oh my God, the whole world is falling on top Im suffocating.

Pushing through the edge of consciousness, I realised the heavy dirt, sandbags and iron sheeting had collapsed and buried me. My head was throbbing with the pressure my ears had taken and the ringing drowned out my gasps as I struggled to breathe. The pure blackness fed my claustrophobic panic and I started thrashing my body. My feet were free; this discovery fed my adrenalin and I started kicking madly.