This Anzac Day, we remember Major John Ernest Ducket White, a leader whose courage, character and values were tested under the most trying conditions.

The devoted husband and father, respected mentor and role model to many Australian soldiers and veterans, died on February 9.

Though the battlefield at Ngok Tavak lay far behind him, Mr White carried the invisible wounds of war for the rest of his life.

In his quest for peace, he crossed oceans to meet former enemies and the families of the fallen, seeking understanding and reconciliation.

In his later years, he dedicated himself to supporting fellow veterans and serving soldiers. 

In his quest for peace, he crossed oceans to meet former enemies and the families of the fallen, seeking understanding and reconciliation.

Mr White’s leadership at the Battle of Ngok Tavak, as part of the Australian Army Training Team Vietnam, was shaped by chaos, pressure and responsibility. 

In the early hours of May 10, 1968, at the remote and isolated jungle outpost of Ngok Tavak, an old French fort perched near the Vietnamese-Laotian border, the battle erupted in chaos and deception. What at first seemed to be friendly troops approaching the perimeter suddenly became a well-coordinated enemy assault.

Mortar rounds began crashing across the position as disguised attackers breached the wire. The defenders, a mixed force of Australians, Americans, South Vietnamese and local irregulars, were thrown into a savage, close-quarters fight against a far larger enemy force.

Under the command of then-Captain White, the roughly 200-man garrison belonged to the elite Mobile Strike Force (Mike Force). It included American Green Berets, a US Marine artillery detachment, South Vietnamese soldiers and battle-hardened Nung mercenaries.

They were suddenly surrounded and assaulted by an entire North Vietnamese Army (NVA) regiment, fighting as part of the 2nd NVA Division, determined to overrun and annihilate the defenders.

As the battle developed and elements became fragmented under pressure, Captain White assumed control of all allied forces.

The situation deteriorated rapidly as the battle became one of savage hand-to-hand combat. Enemy flamethrowers swept the trenches, friendly fire incidents occurred in the confusion, some Nung mercenaries betrayed the defenders and medevac helicopters struggled to extract the growing numbers of dead and wounded, with two of them shot down in the process.

Artillery support remained frustratingly ineffective.

In the midst of this chaos, one of Captain White’s young Vietnamese soldiers performed a selfless act of bravery. Grabbing a live grenade from their pit, he held it to his chest and lunged out of the pit to shield Captain White from the blast.

Captain White realised his force could no longer withstand another sustained assault. When he requested permission to withdraw, headquarters ordered him to hold the position.

Recognising the situation on the ground no longer matched the orders he had received, Captain White made the decision to withdraw in order to save the lives of his men.

The battle does not end when the guns fall silent. 

All equipment that could not be carried was destroyed or rendered unusable. A withdrawal route was selected and prepared. Coordinating danger-close fire support, Captain White created a corridor of napalm through the jungle. His force then withdrew directly through the flaming barrier, towards the enemy’s expected line of advance.

The bold move caught the North Vietnamese by surprise. They had positioned a deadly ambush along the more obvious withdrawal route, which the defenders avoided entirely.

Many of the wounded, and some of the dead, had been recovered earlier in the battle. However, several killed in action could not be retrieved.

In the aftermath, Captain White faced harsh criticism from certain US commanders who had demanded the garrison fight to the last man. Worse still, some families were denied the truth about their sons’ deaths for many years and were instead left to believe their loved ones were missing in action, possibly held as prisoners of war. 

After 51 years of tireless campaigning by his brother, wife and Royal Military College classmates, Mr White was finally awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his extraordinary leadership, courage and judgement under fire.

Yet recognition alone could never fully capture the true cost of that day. The battle does not end when the guns fall silent. The decisions made in the heat of combat, especially those involving profound loss, follow a soldier home. They shaped memory, identity and reflection for the rest of Mr White’s life.

Mr White continued to serve long after he left the battlefield through the not-for-profit Veterans Care Association, dedicated to supporting serving members, veterans and their families. 

The decisions made in the heat of combat, especially those involving profound loss, follow a soldier home. 

He became a key figure in Timor Awakening, a peer support program founded by retired veterans Major Michael Stone and Lieutenant Colonel Gary Stone. Focused on preventing veteran suicide, the program helps restore purpose, connection, identity and wellbeing.

Mr White shared his own story with raw honesty and vulnerability, speaking openly about his struggles. To many, he became a tribal elder, a respected and trusted voice among veterans of all ages.

He spoke candidly about his experiences with PTSD and moral injury, making it clear they are not the same. PTSD, he explained, is the body and mind’s natural response to trauma, while moral injury is a deeper conflict of the soul, born from decisions and actions that betray one’s deepest values. 

In sharing his truth with authenticity, courage and often humour, he gave fellow veterans something many desperately seek: understanding, acceptance and hope. He made it easier for others to open up, reflect and begin their own healing journey.

It was not until the age of 60 that he was finally diagnosed with PTSD after decades of silent struggle.

Mr White also contributed to the Land Warfare Centre, where he mentored future officers and senior non-commissioned officers. 

He taught the tactical lessons of Ngok Tavak, but placed greater emphasis on moral courage and ethical resilience under pressure. He reminded those preparing for command that true leadership was not always about making clear or easy decisions, but about taking responsibility and maintaining resolve. 

This Anzac Day, when we say ‘We remember them’, let us truly understand what that means. We remember the courage to act under fire, but also the courage to make the hardest decisions. We remember the leadership that saves lives, even when it carries a heavy personal cost. And we remember the soldiers who carry the weight of those decisions for the rest of their lives.