Finding your website and seeing the Marines embarking on the Tulare in Feb 66 was an incredible time capsule event since I was part of 7th Motor T Battalion at that time and quite possibly was in that photo.  Almost 39 years later it brought to my mind that experience as we left San Diego for Hawaii, and finally on to Chu Lai, Vietnam.  As we neared our destination one month later, I remember thinking that America was only 90 miles from Cuba - It occurred to me that communism was 90 miles away from the States and I had just spent a month trapezing over an ocean to help eradicate communism 10,000 miles away from the States. How ironic.  But the trip on the Tulare was a memorable one.

    I was a Marine Private when I embarked and I forever remember the meaning of RHIP since all Marines PFC and above were allowed on deck to view Pearl Harbor as we cruised in..... while the few Privates, myself included, remained in the heads cleaning and swabbing in a starboard head above the water line.  I distinctly remember getting down on my knees to view Pearl Harbor through a pipe that ran through the bulkhead allowing me to see Pearl Harbor perhaps like a tiny periscope view from a submarine. Good grief!  How low can you go?  I remember wanting badly to be up on deck and how this situation really sucked.  So, I made a committment at that moment to make rank as hasty as possible.  I, in fact, got promoted to PFC during the cruise (where I learned what "pinning your stripes" on your arm meant after my two triceps muscles looked like bruised turkey necks!)  I didn't give up because I made Lance Corporal with 57 days in grade as PFC, and then made Corporal in about 8 months, finally making Sergeant after 21 months in the Corps.  I thank the Tulare head drain pipe for its motivating features.

    I remember our one day of Liberty in Hawaii.  Around 10:30 pm, while getting ready to leave Fort Derussey (sp?) on Wakakii Beach) after a day of Liberty, my group of Marines were finishing off our last beers when we heard a commotion on the beach nearby.  We had to get back by midnight or miss the Tulare's departure.  Being Marines, we couldn't pass up the commotion, so we ran off some local Hawaiian punks that had caused two very drunken sailors on leave to get beat up pretty badly.  Each had huge black eyes and were pretty near unconscious.   We recognized them as being on the Tulare and put them on our shoulders and got them back before midnight.  The Officer on the Deck just smiled in a sardonic way as we saluted the ensign and brought them on board.

    I have to give credit to the Captain for his insight and empathy for the Marine spirit since he took the opportunity to swing the Tulare northward a bit so that he could give us a surprise with his personal order telling the Marines to go directly to the starboard deck to view Mt Suribachi in the distance.   It was Feb 23, 1966, the 21st anniversary of the flag raising there.  I was celebrating my 20th birthday that day and I became aware for the first time of the significance of my birthdate as a Marine.  Every Marine on deck was in awe of that experience and appreciative of the Captain for making it happen.  I can still see Mt Suribachi unforgettably imprinted in my mind.

    I remember standing guard on deck at night and watching flying fish and the phosphorescent plankton...an eery site for a landlubber.  I remember playing trumpet with a group of swabbies with drums and guitars aft on the helicopter deck during a boxing smoker for the Marines.  I don't know if we played any decent rock songs, but the Gillette "Fight Song" ("You'll look sharp, and you'll know your OK.....") went over well.  I will never forget having to do guard duty in the front cargo hold during a mighty Pacific storm.  I was about three stories down from topside while the Tulare was pitching, yawing, and rolling about as much as any ship could withstand.  I bet we pitched three stories at least and then crashed down with a hard and loud bam and then rolled hard, either right or left, on and on and on.  I was amongst trucks  that were chained down, so I hoped.  To make matters worse, I was being checked by the Sergeant of the Guard, who looked three stories down at my pitiful state where he saw a boot Marine on all fours with a sea of purplish froth all about.  I can remember that the blueberry pie I had previously eaten was rather good in the mess, but now was a reminder of how bad things can turn out in a Pacific storm.  The Sgt of the Guard yelled down to tell me that this was why they have the Supernumerary of the Guard.  So I waited a bit and he came back with my relief, however I was not free and clear of that predicament until I mustered the will to climb that damn little scraggly iron ladder up three stories, weak and sicker than a dog, while the damn ship continued to pitch, crash, and roll! It truly was a worthy experience that the television show "JackAss" should consider showing.   So, the Tulare can put Marines through its own "Crucible" of sorts!

    I can remember the night before we disembarked at Chu Lai because the crew was stirring about, whistling, humming, and smiling as they prepared the air castle for "Casino Nite" that night.  They said they usually do this the night before the Marines reach their destination so that they can "take all of their money."   Well, I won $85 playing craps, and just about every Marine I saw was smiling and looking happy that night.  I didn't see the Tulare crew whistling, smiling, or appearing anything but gloomy as they took down the casino after it was over.  I think 7th Motors was the best dang gambling fools in all of WESTPAC since we were always playing cards in Vietnam.  One payday in Chu Lai, the Coleman lanterns were still lighted in most tents at 11:30 pm while everyone was playing cards.  Our Battlalion Commander was a bit of a Church Lady as far as gambling that late goes, and he sent our adjutant with a bugle to my tent to have me play Taps at 11:55 pm (since the Adjutant was once a band director for the 1stMarDiv band and he was aware that I played the trumpet).  The word was passed to every tent to put out the light when Taps was played or face trouble.  I went to the top of the ridge and played taps with my helmet and flackjacket on and sure nuff the lights all started going out one by one.  I started hearing things whizz by my head in fast succession and I, of course, finished taps in rapid fashion since I had remembered a gook shooting a .50 cal at us on that ridge a few weeks earlier.  I then heard some Marines about 40 or 50 yards cussing at me all upset that I had awakened them and they had the 0200 guard shift! Those were the culprits throwing rocks at me.  So, in a way, I was a combat bugler that night.

    All those memories were certainly stirred by that photo I saw on your website recently.  Thanks again for reminding me of my personal experience as a young Marine who truly appreciated the US Navy in its tradition of chauffering us Marines to war, albeit not without some excitement.  Semper Fi, Do or Die!.....

Charles J. Neilson MD
322 Oyster Creek Drive
Sugar Land, Texas  77478

28 Dec 04