Actually, I wrote this for my fellow Marines, but it was really a 'Nam-thing' so, I thought I would share it here as well.

I did not know if this was the right thing to do, but I was asked to write about how I received the Bronze Star. I thought about it, and I thought as it would sound like bragging, but I started typing and this is my story.

It is all too often that we do not tell the stories of us, and of others, or of what happened on those days when fright was a something that we lived with on a daily basis. The only one's we speak to are our fellow Marines, and our fellow Soldiers, if we can find them. I found that with each word typed, it was like a great weight was lifted from my shoulders.

It is well over forty years for me. It was Vietnam. And, I was one of the proudest of Marines that could be. I was doing what I was trained to do. I was an Eighteen Year Old Marine and just coming up on being over two years in the Marines, and I was going to war in Vietnam. This is just one of my stories, but please, feel free to unload to your fellow Marines and Soldiers the stories of your combat HERE! It was really good to drop this heavy pack from my back. Now I share it with you.

It was Zero Dawn Thirty (0530H), December 27, 1965. It was Chu Lai, South Vietnam, at the 3rd Battalion 7th Marine LZ. Merry Christmas!

It was drizzling, and it was cold to the bone as most Vietnam mornings were. It was the start of Operation Humbug.

We were standing there at the edge of the Battalion area for some thirty minutes after I rejoined my unit, after I was released from Battalion Aid for the influenza I had just spent a couple of days down, when the trucks finally arrived to pick us up.

The conversation was idle talk. The Marines talked of letters they received from home; they talked of what they would be doing when it was they were finally returned to the world; they talked of girlfriends; they talked of sports; and, they talked about the last couple of days along the lines, but no one talked about where we were going to, or even why we were going. It was not a conversation that was wanted. Each time we went on an operation, it meant some of us may not return.

I looked around at the Marines who were waiting there. There was something very unique about each one sitting there. Some were humorous, and others were very serious, and each Marine had his own way at looking at the war, and he expressed it in a few words or an image or two upon his helmet cover. Maybe, it was our way to protest, or just that famous Marine Humor coming to light.

There were different things written on the camouflage covers of their helmets that showed a great deal of their personality. Most of these writings were humorous in nature. One Marine wrote, "Don't blame me. I didn't swim here!" Another wrote, "You and me, God! Right!" Yet another would have "This end up!" The more serious of the comments were usually quotes of certain phrases from the bible, or famous Marine sayings, or even 'Antiwar' messages. I saw one Marine with the phrase, "No one LIKES war, ESPECIALLY me!" There was also, "Make love! Not war!" As well as there were also cartoon characters drawn on the helmet covers too, and there were religious images, both Buddhist and Christian, embedded on their covers.

My thoughts were taken back to the present reality with the arrival of the trucks. These trucks were Marine Troop trucks. We called them '6x6's'. The backs of these trucks were flat wooden platforms, and they had rails up on the sides. There were wooden benches on each side of the bed of the truck for us to sit on. In the front cab of the truck there was a machinegun turret over the passenger side of the truck, with a mounted machinegun on it. The assistant truck driver would stand on the seat, and he operated the gun when the truck was moving.

Our platoon filled three of these trucks. There was a squad in each truck. It was than it dawned on me, this was the whole platoon with Weapons Platoon incorporated in the squads. I knew that something big was going to happen to us this day.

When we all got onto the trucks they lurched forward towards Highway #1. As the trucks traveled the open road, we usually sat leaning over the rails with our rifles pointed towards the outsides of the truck. This was done in case of an attack by ambush. We were taught to not be unaware of our surroundings, even in relatively secured areas such as Highway 1, just a quarter of a mile from the Battalion area.

We left the Battalion area, and we went east towards Chu Lai first, and than turned south just over the railroad tracks, and onto Highway #1. This road was the main coastal road for South Vietnam in our sector, and it ran up the whole length of the coastline from the south to the north of the country. It was also a vital link for supplies for the ARVN, as well as the American and Korean Troops along its path.

We traveled the road all the way south to Nhuc Manh (I am not sure of the spelling of the town, but as best I could translate the town was translated to 'Water Town'). There was a great deal of traffic on the road this day, more than the usual that I had seen before this in the many times that I had been down the road before. Mostly, the traffic was made up of little motorcycle type three wheeled vehicles painted in bright colors. The Vietnamese seemed to like very bright colors in their clothes and their possessions.

There were many Vietnamese women along the road this day. They were very beautiful women, the Vietnamese. Usually, they were slender, and they looked taller than they really were. They had long black silky hair that hung down their backs to their waist. Their hair shown brightly from beneath the conical bamboo hats they wore on their heads, or, in some cases, the hats had been thrown onto their backs, and hung there from multicolored ribbons tied around they necks. They were very pretty of face, and often quick to smile, and it was easy to see why these women were very much to be appreciated by any man. On this day, they all seemed to be wearing the traditional formal dresses of their country. These were gown like dresses with high silk collars, some had embroidery stitched into them, and others did not. The dresses split up the sides to the area of the waist, and were worn over their long silk pants, usually the same material as the dress. These dresses showed very well the curves of their women's bodies, and the sight was very pleasing to my eyes. The colors of theses dresses, they too, were of some of the brightest blues, reds, and yellow colors I had seen for some time.

It didn't dawn on me until that moment, the calendar date was past Christmas Day, and most of the people in this area were of the Catholic Religion, and this was their Holiday Season. They dressed in their finest clothing, and they went and they visited family and friends in the area as part of their holiday duties.

There were also people dressed in the traditional 'black pajamas' as we called them. They were usually working along the roadways. They walked along the road carrying loads of wood and shucks of rice. They carried them on long flat bamboo slabs with rope holding baskets on both ends of the bamboo. The baskets were filled to the very tops with these various foods and implements of daily life for the Vietnamese people. There was one basket in front and a second basket in the rear. When the man, or the woman, carrying these loads stood up, they looked like human weight scales, balancing the loads front to rear.

There were other vehicles on the roads this date, such as bicycles and motorcycles, and small private trucks and cars, as well as military vehicles from the ARVN (Army of the Republic of South Vietnam), and US Marines, and the US Navy as well.

The town of Nhuc Manh, or now that I think of it, may well have been Bin Son, who knows now, for now I will call it Nucc Manh, was a military center for the ARVN. It was not a fort like the outpost I had been flown to near Qui Nhon my first couple of days in my unit. Nhuc Manh was a town long before the war, as well as a regional and cultural center for the people in the area.

The ARVN had a prisoner-of-war camp in the middle of the town that was surrounded with barbed wire and guard towers. There were different military installations throughout the town, as well as shops and restaurants along the roadway, and some large brick buildings. There were guard posts manned by soldiers of the ARVN at the bridge leading into the town. I saw soldiers in all different types of uniforms walking the area of the shops, each of these men were carrying rifles, and wore gun belts around their waists. The town was busy, and the streets were crowded with all different types of people shopping and carrying on their daily life.

On the hill to the west of Nhuc Manh was a Marine outpost to guard the town from any serious attacks. The Marines called the Outpost 'Bulldog.' It was usually garrisoned by a platoon of Marines. It was considered to be good duty to be sent there, as far as duty went in the Republic of South Vietnam, the reason being because there were chances to socialize with the Vietnamese women, and to walk the shops of the town, and to feel like human beings for a short time, if only briefly.

As we turned toward the west, on a secondary road, just over the bridge of the Song Tre Bong River, 'Bulldog' appeared to be our destination. There was some low happy chatter in the truck by the Marines as we rode up the hill towards 'Bulldog'.

I asked Cpl Arp, my fireteam leader, who was sitting next to me, what was it all about? And why the men seemed so happy? He explained 'Outpost Bulldog' to me, including the part about fraternizing with the local women, and it made me smile too. Unfortunately, this day for us, it was not to be our day to hold 'Bulldog'.

The low happy chatter stopped as we continued past 'Bulldog' to a second bridge that crossed the Song Tre Bong River again, and than we turned farther west towards Central South Vietnam.

About ten miles outside of Nhuc Manh to the west, we got off of the trucks, and formed into our units.

We were ordered to get on-line for a sweep of the area in front of us. We were on the north side of the River, and the land in front of us was mostly rice paddy and some small villages. The area along the riverbank was a higher earthen dike, maybe 2 meters above the rice paddies. My team was ordered on the extreme left flank to check the riverbanks for enemies hiding in the water. We were told there was a small band of VC in this area harassing the farmers of the area, and we had to find them and destroy them.

It was still early, a little past 0700H, when we received our first sniper fire of the day, and 5 VC could be seen running south out of Chau Tu. And it was an hour after that when the 5 VC were reported captured near Tien Doa (1).

It was funny to me that most of these small hamlets had the same name, and how they were differentiated one from another by a number behind the name, but that was Vietnam.

The area was on the edge of the jungles near several villages called Tri Binh and Phuoc Thuan I believe. The rice paddies were around the villages, and with the recent rains, the rice paddies were filled to over-flowing with water. The farmers had been out to the fields earlier, and had opened the floodgates that allowed the water to flow into other fields around their villages. The mud was very thick in some of these paddies, and it caused us to slow down so as to have the Marines in the paddies keep on line with the rest of us on the outer flanks.

Our jump-off point was called line December, and we were nearing Line July. Company M was sweeping in from the North where they had been Helo-lifted into the area. We were about five Hundred Meters into the sweep when we came under fire again, as some of our Company was removing fences that were constructed by the VC in the area. It was light machinegun fire, and we rushed the positions. There was a brief firefight, and the resistance ceased as the enemy fell back into the villages and the thick jungle growth.

We searched the dead VC we found, and we called in to report the action. We were told to hold our positions on the edge of the jungle until a blocking force of Marines were in position behind the enemy.

We were in position for maybe an hour, most likely much linger, when we saw helicopters on our very far right and left flanks and some moving to about Fourteen Hundred Meters in the front of our lines.

Arp's team, my fireteam, was still moving along the riverbank, and it was Tanguay and I on the extreme left flank. Tanguay was watching the other side of the river for any enemy activity, and I was watching this side of the river's bank for any enemy soldiers.

It was about 1300H when we were about another Four Hundred Meters into the renewed push, when I saw some movement in the water. I ordered a halt to the forward push of our troops, and Tanguay went onto the ground where he had stood up to that time, and the rest of the Marines to the north went to one knee ready to fire.

Cpls Arp and Brock came on-the-run to the riverbank where Tanguay and I were.

I had moved to position near the water down on the sandy riverbank, and I was watching the water for movement. Brock and Arp went to a low crouch as they approached, and than onto the ground and they crawled as they neared my position.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop us?" Said Brock in a low voice.

"There is something in the water, Corporal Brock." I pointed to an area where there was only a slight ripple of water now.

"Are you sure it is not a crocodile, or something like that?"

"No! I'm not! I would rather hold everybody up for a little while, and check it out rather than to have someone come up behind us. Let me go check it out, Brock." I said.

"OK! Arp! You get Rickey, and Tanguay together, and you stay here, and get Barone's team over here to cover Carey in the water."

While this was being done, I removed my flack jacket, and web gear. I left my boots on, after Brock said to 'watch out for panji stakes and barbed wire in the water'. He said it was a VC trick to put those things in the water where they could not be seen. I took my bayonet out of the sheath on the web belt, and I took off my shirt.

I went down to the water's edge of the riverbank. Freeman and Tanguay covered the other side of the river with their AR and rifle, and Barone and Rodriguez kept their rifles pointed ahead of me as I entered the water. Brock and Arp moved along the top of the riverbank looking for any thing of interest in the water below them. I slowly went into the water. I kept my eyes above water as I swam quietly toward the spot where I had seen movement. The rest of me was well under water, and barely a sound was made as I swam.

In this area of the river, the banks were about two to three meters above the waterline. I knew if I were fired upon here, I was not going to make it out of the river alive.

Again, I saw some movement in a bush just above the water line, and I rolled on my back and I hand-signaled to Barone, and to Arp and to Brock to watch that area, as I pointed to it from the river. I than went under water, and I swam to that area with the Bayonet in my teeth (Just like in the Pirate stories). I came up slowly out of the water showing only my forehead and eyes above the water, and I was very near the bush, but I could see there was nothing there, absolutely no one!

I slowly went under water again, and the water was so muddy that I couldn't see anything, and I knew that I did not cause all of that mud.

I came up slowly for air once more. I could just barely hear Brock above me on the banks, "Carey! Five feet in front of you, and I hope it is not a crocodile! There is something moving in that bush." Brock said in a low whisper from the bank, as he aimed his rifle.

I slowly slipped under the water again, and I went right down to the bottom, and I quietly stayed there and looked for any movement, and I waited for the mud to settle.

Then, I saw them!

There was a pair of pair of legs in front of me. I looked toward the surface form the river bottom through the grasses growing there, and I could see a Vietnamese man with his face turned to the surface breathing air beneath a bush through a bamboo tube. There was an M-1 Carbine in his hands below the surface pointed upward to the riverbank as he watched Brock looking in to the water below.

I put my feet under me on the floor of the river, and used the leverage to push myself into the man grabbing his rifle and putting the bayonet into him below his chest and pushing up with it and turning it the way I was taught. He was most likely dead immediately, but I pulled him further under the water with me and to the middle of the river. I saw no air bubbles escaping from his mouth, and I let him drift away to the bottom of the river. As I took the Bayonet out of him, while still under water, I swam underwater to where the Marines were on the bank waiting for me. As I did this, I thought I saw another set of legs in the water in the same spot. It might have been bushes in the water, but I was pretty sure it was a pair of legs.

There was absolutely no resistance from the man I had just killed, so I came up slowly for air.

When my head went above the water, I saw Arp looking down at me, and I used my free hand to motion for quiet. I than swam to the low part of the bank that both, Barone and Rodriguez, were standing guard at.

I handed up the dead VC's Carbine, and I signaled there was another one in the water, for them to be quiet. I than went back into, and under, the water.

I swam to the bottom again, and I waited for the water, and the mud, to calm down, and, than, I moved in to where I had seen the possible legs before, and saw there was nothing there!

There were no legs! There were no Branches! There was just nothing there, but bushes! I came up for air again, and Arp was over me on the bank.

I took the bayonet out of my teeth, and I said very quietly, "There was another one, but I can't find him now! Damn! I would have had him, if I would have stayed a little while longer."

I was so mad at loosing the soldier, I kicked at the riverbank, only, my foot didn't stop at the bank. It kept going into the side of the bank!

I fell beneath the water and into a hole. I felt someone else's flesh touch my leg. By accident, I had found him!

I had fallen into the opening of an underwater cave entrance, and, now, I was in the cave. I could see how I had not seen it before; it was well hidden in the tall grasses well under the water line of the river.

At about a meter and a half under water on the riverbank was the start of the entrance to the cave. Below the entrance, there was a hole that went down approximately another meter, than there was a meter step-up, and than it was grated up inside the riverbank to a point above the waterline, where there was a level and large manmade cavern that went down a meter or two below the entrance's water door.

At the time, it was more what I could feel about the cavern, rather than what I could see of it. It was pitch black in there, and there were a great many different voices around me.

Something cold and metal touched me in the back, and I turned and thrust the bayonet into where I thought might be a chest cage of a man, but it went through something very soft and pliable, and I felt the bayonet grate against bone at the end of the thrust.

I did not have a chance to think about what I was doing. There were loud excited voices that sounded like 'fright-night' at the local theater back home, and there was someone right next to me. There was a scream that came from behind me.

Pandemonium had broken loose in the cavern. Someone tried to put his arm around my neck, and I stabbed again, and again, and again.

I was going to die, but I wasn't going to die alone. I grabbed the two nearest bodies to me, and I pushed my way out of the cave with them in my arms, and I delivered them back to the riverbank.

One of the men broke free, and he tried to escape across the river's water to the other side, and either Tanguay, or maybe it was Rodriguez, one of them, shot him. I think it was Rodriguez that jumped into the water to get the perforated escapee.

My bayonet was still in the cave, and I went back to get it.

People often ask me, "Why did you go back for a bayonet?"

You will have to understand, I was a Private first Class at the time, and any equipment that we lost, we had to pay for, and to be honest, I could not afford to buy a new M-7 Bayonet from the Marines at that rank! I really had to get that bayonet!

I found it right away. It was by the entrance, and, when i picked it up, I saw a pair of legs there. so, I picked up the bayonet, and I grabbed the legs I saw, and I swam like hell, and I pulled my way back to the bank, and to the safety of my Marines with the VC in tow and screaming all the way.

Then I went back to see if I could get another one just as easily! I guess at this point it had become a game with me, and with each VC there were points awarded, who knows what goes through the mind of an 18 year old? Not even I know what it was I was doing at that point, but I went under water, then, I thought I did die!

There was white light, and I could not hear anything any longer. I had no feeling in my body, with the exception of the electric shocks running through places on my body that I did not even know I had places. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Than I felt like I was air and fire both at the same time. Than, everything went blank, and I was nowhere! I thought, is this death?

As I think about it now, I remember, when I kept coming up for air from beneath the water, and even when I brought up the VC soldiers, I felt there was something that was missing. At the time I could not put my finger on it exactly, because I was too busy, but something, or someone, was missing. I later found out it was Corporal Brock.

Corporal Brock, he was a good NCO. During the time I was in the water, he had found the air vent for the cavern below the riverbank, and he had gotten a group of engineers attached to our unit to blow up the air vent with C4 explosives. Little did he know, that I was inside the cavern when he ordered the air vent blown-up! The concussion of the explosion knocked me out of the cave.

It was Arp that told me what had happened during that brief time I was missing all the action. He said that he was sure I was dead, but he said I walked out of the water under my own power, and I just fell down on the bank.

Arp told me, when the explosion settled, and everything stopped falling around them. They came up on the hole in the ground that had taken the place where the bank was once, before there was the explosion, they took another 14 prisoners out of the hole, somewhat shaken and pr4etty well cut up, but alive none the less.

He said they saw bodies all over the place in the crater of the explosion, but, he said, he was most surprised to see the VC alive.

He said, he and Barone, and others jumped into the hole and pulled the VC out.

It was Doc Thunder that said I was all right, and that I would live. He told me I could have a mild concussion, but that I would be all right in a short period of time as he put bandades on the scratches and cuts on me. Saying that I was just stunned by the concussion of the explosion.

Surprisingly enough, I did not receive a Purple Heart for the wounds received that day, I guess you had to be a Navy Officer like Kerry, or a Marine Office like Murtha to get PHM for cuts bruses and scrapes! Anyhow, I got my PHMs later in the war as things got more interesting.

Brock was sitting there near me by this time, as Doc was treating my cuts, and he asked me how I was feeling. I could hardly hear him, because of the ringing in my ears. He gave me a 'thumbs up' sign, and he told me we would be leaving in an hour. He asked Doc if I would be ready to go by than, and I heard this, and I told him, "Of course he will be ready."

The Lt asked me when we got back to the lines about what happened? And, why was I in that cave?

I thought that I was in real trouble now! I told him roughly what happened, and after I told him, I thought maybe I should not have done it.

It was not for weeks later that I knew that the LT had put me, and the squad in for commendation awards. The Marines didn't hand out metals for bravery that often in the beginning of The War in South Vietnam. The 'Official Word' was that we are all doing our job just by being there, but General Fields, The Division Commanding Officer, on July 26, 1966, decorated me for bravery in this cave incident, while I was still in Vietnam with a Bronze Star with a Combat V, and Corporal Brock and the others also received Navy Marine Corps Commendation medals with Combat V's on that date.

Oh well! This is one of my stories, what is one of your stories. Man, it sure does not hurt to unload this stuff!

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Joe_Carey,

That is quite the story of enemy action.
Thanks for posting it.
And I salute you.

quote:

Originally posted by Bullhunter:
That is quite the story of enemy action.
Thanks for posting it.
And I salute you.

Well thank you again Bull hunter

Bronze_Star_Citation.jpg (191 Kb, 27 downloads)

Joe, What does the citation say?

OK I finally see it!

quote:

Originally posted by joeamodeo:
OK I finally see it!

Yeah! the LT wrote the citation, and he only got the story of what I was willing to tell him of what happened, as I was an enlistedman, the bare essentials of the whole thing was written of. Sixteen hardcore VC captured was not a bad day's work!

Respectfully,
Joe Carey

Joe C
This post really well done. I salute you effort.
A comment
All of the various threads, posts, discussion boards, etc, contain stories of our past. Outside of the current events discussion, the posts all contain the history of our various wars, battles, liberties, and lot more, with pics to boot.
Would it be the proper thing to have a separate thread, discussion board, or what ever we may call it, to text out and save our sea stories?
The WW 2 folks have thier oral and written traditions being saved for the future. We here in this forum are posting lots of good stuff and, in my opinion should, somehow, be saved.
Admin Comments?
end

quote:

Originally posted by TennSlim:
Joe C
This post really well done. I salute you effort.
A comment
All of the various threads, posts, discussion boards, etc, contain stories of our past. Outside of the current events discussion, the posts all contain the history of our various wars, battles, liberties, and lot more, with pics to boot.
Would it be the proper thing to have a separate thread, discussion board, or what ever we may call it, to text out and save our sea stories?
The WW 2 folks have thier oral and written traditions being saved for the future. We here in this forum are posting lots of good stuff and, in my opinion should, somehow, be saved.
Admin Comments?
end

Technically, Slim, once it is on the internet, it is there for the world to see, all that one needs is an address to read it, and then you have the problem with ownership of it.

I write these stories for my fellow Nam Vets, but, I am currently writing a murder story that I was involved in the 80s, that will not be left unprotected in the open Internet.

My only problem there is that I have thrown the thing out three times already, because I was having a hard time piecing things together to where one person does not look so guilty all the way through the book! And, somehow, the weather conditions don't match the official record, which does play a part in the story. It is either bad policework, or the officals tried to put one over on the people.

That I will eventually work out!

quote:

Technically, Slim, once it is on the internet, it is there for the world to see, all that one needs is an address to read it, and then you have the problem with ownership of it.

Joe C
Got my time set so I can do some Mil.com reviews of posts. Old posts, current hot posts, and some that are 1 year old all contain "sea stories", true life stories, comments that contain military events, and a variety of good technical comments.
Running thru these posts are the history of at least 40 years of military life!!
What I think would be a good approach is to have the Mil Admin folks set up a front end, near the beginning posts, a separate "Military"
post containing these written testimonies.
bt
Personaly, I am beginning or restarting my writing. I post here, on Politico and others. Would like to get articles started on line, knowing the internet rules.
end

quote:

Originally posted by TennSlim:

quote:

Technically, Slim, once it is on the internet, it is there for the world to see, all that one needs is an address to read it, and then you have the problem with ownership of it.

Joe C
Got my time set so I can do some Mil.com reviews of posts. Old posts, current hot posts, and some that are 1 year old all contain "sea stories", true life stories, comments that contain military events, and a variety of good technical comments.
Running thru these posts are the history of at least 40 years of military life!!
What I think would be a good approach is to have the Mil Admin folks set up a front end, near the beginning posts, a separate "Military"
post containing these written testimonies.
bt
Personaly, I am beginning or restarting my writing. I post here, on Politico and others. Would like to get articles started on line, knowing the internet rules.
end

Slim, These stories are for my Nam Bros, I do not wish them to become part a commercial venture!

Joe C
Right. I understand the privacy need.
My thougths were to post our stories on the Mil.com ONLY.
Looking around a bit, I find buried in the comments a lot of anecdotes, true experiences and regroups of old shipmates. So, considering all we have said, seems like the need to post our stories is really being met.
Now, I need to get my slide pics in order, so I am off for now.
end

quote:

Originally posted by TennSlim:
Joe C
Right. I understand the privacy need.
My thougths were to post our stories on the Mil.com ONLY.
Looking around a bit, I find buried in the comments a lot of anecdotes, true experiences and regroups of old shipmates. So, considering all we have said, seems like the need to post our stories is really being met.
Now, I need to get my slide pics in order, so I am off for now.
end

I'll be looking for them Slim! No story is a bad story, and no memory should be forgotten.