I had been the Officer of the Day on December 17, 1970 and had the 18th off to catch up on my sleep.  On that evening ,I woke up when the next day's flight schedule was dropped in the door of our hooch.  The schedule had me launching at "O dark-thirty" the morning of December 19th as LtCol. Hank Steadmans copilot.  As the "FNG" of our hooch I had the top bunk, so dropped off to sleep with the bare bulb of our hooch shining brightly near my head.

Fade to black. . . . . .

Arise to such a clatter!  Two corpsmen skipping down the middle of  a hospital ward yelling "Merry Christmas."   I can only guess at how startled I must have looked.   Startled enough to attract the concern of  one of the corpsmen.   He came to my bed and asked, " What's wrong Lieutenant?"   " Where am I? " "   Your on Guam."  My thinking, a little on the fuzzy side,  I associated what he said with  the LPH Guam.  I had  qualified on this ship a short three months earlier.  My statement about it being in the Atlantic, didn't jibe with his island geography.  He ran for a doctor!  A quick look under the sheet covering me and the corpsman was  back with a doctor.   I asked him why I was there ?  He told me the tank I was driving, hit a land mine.  To this day , I think that may be the greatest insult given to a CH-46.  I reached down to scratch an itch on the back of my right calf, and came up with a bunch of blood and puss on my hand.  The doctor called for  a surgical kit, had me turn over on my stomach and with one quick slice dropped something metallic in a bed pan.  From all the concern over my head injuries, the shrapnel in the back of my leg had gone completely unnoticed.  One large Band-Aid and approximately 20 minutes later, a major from Marine Liaison was pinning a Purple Heart on me.

They wouldn't let me keep the shrapnel, TOO MANY GERMS!  A bad concussion and shock  was my final diagnosis for five days of amnesia.  Only took the Navy ten weeks and three hospitals to come up with it.  30 days convalescent leave and one week inspecting baggage  on Treasure Island before I finally got a PSA ticket back to the Marine Corps.  Copilot of the PSA flight must have  been getting one of his few landings.   Dropped  a half dozen ceiling panels out of the overhead and all of the oxygen  masks also.  Definitely  my roughest commercial  landing to date.

A short time later I was reunited with a few of the Purple Foxes , when HMM-364 was deactivated at MCAS(H) Santa Ana.  Got my HAC papers in 46's and was transferred to HMH-363 when the Marine corps started running out of 53 pilots.  Sam Ware and Dave Owens  (my Best Man) were other Foxes who became Red Lions.

Thirty one days with the Purple Foxes are still my "10 minutes of fame."

As soon as I can find a picture, I'll send it.
 
Semper Fi,

Thomas C. "TC" Davis, former 1stLt USMCR