Rick Vecqueray RM3
USS Tulare (AKA-112) 1965 − 1967

23 Feb 09

Although many memories fade over time, especially ones so far back in one's life, one incident during my service aboard the Tulare will never be forgotten. When such things as automatic weapons fire, exploding grenades and General Quarters are involved, it tends to stick in a guys mind for a very long time.

I was a Radioman, RM3 at the time, and the Tulare was at anchor in Chu Lai, Vietnam in the spring of 1966. It was during a mid-watch at around 02:00 if memory serves. The night was clear, the sea at anchor was calm, and only starlight lit the scene in the area. It was common practice at the time to have a picket boat make routine circuits around the ship while at anchor. This was to protect the ship from enemy swimmers who may be prone to placing explosive charges to the hull of the ship. There had been some recent incidents in and around Siagon Harbor that had damaged Navy ships, and the brass was taking no chances on further incidents to any ships anywhere in Vietnam at the time.

The picket boat was one of Tulare's launches, outfitted with at least one Browning .30 Cal machine gun, and besides the coxswain, the other three crew members were armed with various weapons that included Thompson .45 Caliber sub-machine guns and .45 Caliber 1911 pistols. One boatswains mate who shall remain nameless, seemed always ready for action, and in thinking about it, I believe he actually looked forward to any kind of combat, being sort of the "Rambo" type of fellow. This particular sort was armed not only with his trusty .45 pistol, but also with a Thompson sub-gun and a generous supply of hand grenades while patrolling in the picket boat that night.

I was in radio central during my watch with the radio fleet broadcast receivers streaming away with the distinctive sound of incoming signals droning away in monotony, checking incoming messages for any signs of them being directed to Big T. My mind was suddenly startled into full alert when out of nowhere the sound of automatic weapons fire and exploding grenades filled the air. I could feel the concussion of explosions against the hull of the ship, and within seconds the clanging sound of "general quarters, this is NOT a drill" was heard, and the crew sprang to life all over the ship. Wearing our "steel pots", manning our GQ stations, the deck crew all arming themselves with weapons and scrambling over the decks to see what the ruckus was about, I wondered to myself if the enemy had actually succeeded in reaching the ship from shore, and would my next moment be filled with the feeling of the ship listing from taking on water.

We all wondered aloud what was happening, gave each other looks of "is this it?" but before long the 1MC crackled to life with the words "secure from general quarters".

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, put away our helmets, those that were not on watch returned to bunks, and the event generally wound down. We all however wanted to know what had happened, and it was not known until the next morning exactly what DID happen.

It turns out that the picket boat had orders to fire upon virtually anything of suspicion, as it could be enemy swimmers, a mine, scuba divers, or any other sort of floating or submerged threat. "Our boy", the overzealous boatswain's mate had seen what he termed "suspicious", and immediately fired upon it, lobbed grenades at it, and in return, the other crew members of the boat had in turn, also fired at the unseen "enemy", raking it with full-auto fire to ensure its destruction .

The item in question however, turned out to be a floating Dixie Cup. Not being able to see well in the moonless night, the boat crew followed "our boy" into action, and joining in on the firefight to protect the Big T from all invaders. The entire crew of course upon finding out just what had actually taken place, all gave both a chuckle, not to mention a sigh of relief from possible disaster. It was from that day forward during this particular deployment that many of us referred to this event as "The Dixie Cup Incident".