thedrifter
06-06-07, 06:57 AM
Modest Heroes Say It Was Just Their Job
By JESSE HAMILTON
Courant Staff Writer
June 6 2007
GROTON -- James Tyler and Sam Jordan stand at attention in sailor whites, their new medals hanging heavy from their chests.
For "heroic achievement," the two Navy hospitalmen 2nd class have been singled out, pulled from their jobs on the Groton Navy base for a few moments Tuesday and reminded of their time in Iraq.
For Tyler, it's the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal, for events a year ago today. For Jordan, the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal and a Purple Heart, earned on Sept. 4.
The two men are a year and thousands of miles from the frantic episodes described in the award certificates.
The citations are read aloud to a crowd of sailors standing outside the base health clinic. The words talk of two nights on the streets of Fallujah, but words can't bridge the gap from here to there. If any come close, it's the word "devotion." They had that, working in the dark over Marines they knew.
Navy corpsmen act as medics for Marine infantry units. These two lived with and patched up the guys from 1st Battalion, 25th Marines, known as "New England's Own" and including Plainville's Charlie Company.
Jordan is quiet. The 23-year-old, now a surgical tech on the Groton base, doesn't relish attention. His citation describes a night he hasn't even told his family in Minnesota about. Jordan thinks Purple Hearts should go to those more seriously hurt or killed. As for courage, he says there are plenty walking around the clinic who have done similar things. "I hate this," he says of all the fuss.
His wound was to his hand, his skin seared while he worked on a torn-up Marine. The injured sergeant was hurt with two others when a mine exploded beneath their Humvee, in the same convoy Jordan was in. Jordan didn't really notice his burn at the time, but as he worked on the man, the Humvee beside them was on fire. He treated the sergeant and dragged him away from the vehicle.
"That night, yeah, I think I did a good job," he says. But that's about all there is to it, he thinks. With or without the new medals, what he carries inside is a quiet knowledge that when things go bad, he can hack it.
Tyler, 26, has "mixed feelings" about the new decoration on his chest. When a bomb buried in a Fallujah road blasted through the bottom of a Humvee in his convoy, the Marines strewn on the ground were his friends.
"All that I did was my job," he said. He was the only corpsman around, and four friends were hurt - two of them badly. He ran along the dark street to them, tripping in the bomb crater. Then he started fast care.
"Doc, he's turning blue."
"Don't leave me, Doc."
He cut an airway in one Marine's windpipe, to keep him alive long enough to get to a hospital. He attached tourniquets on another's legs, one of which would later be lost. A year later in Groton, where he's medical liaison to the sub fleet, a hot breeze or a car backfiring can transport Tyler back to those memories for a moment. "It just comes in flashes."
The Marines Jordan and Tyler worked on those nights lived. They and other corpsmen saved dozens of New England's Own, though the battalion lost 11.
Lt. Col. Kris Stillings drove from the unit headquarters in Massachusetts to attend Tuesday. "A corpsman becomes one of the brothers," he says. Having corpsmen to keep them alive is "the reason why Marines are able to do what they're able to do."
"Two American heroes are standing in front of you right now," Stillings tells the ceremony crowd.
The heroes dutifully shake hands with everybody. Then they go back to work.
Contact Jesse Hamilton at jhamilton@courant.com.
Ellie
By JESSE HAMILTON
Courant Staff Writer
June 6 2007
GROTON -- James Tyler and Sam Jordan stand at attention in sailor whites, their new medals hanging heavy from their chests.
For "heroic achievement," the two Navy hospitalmen 2nd class have been singled out, pulled from their jobs on the Groton Navy base for a few moments Tuesday and reminded of their time in Iraq.
For Tyler, it's the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal, for events a year ago today. For Jordan, the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal and a Purple Heart, earned on Sept. 4.
The two men are a year and thousands of miles from the frantic episodes described in the award certificates.
The citations are read aloud to a crowd of sailors standing outside the base health clinic. The words talk of two nights on the streets of Fallujah, but words can't bridge the gap from here to there. If any come close, it's the word "devotion." They had that, working in the dark over Marines they knew.
Navy corpsmen act as medics for Marine infantry units. These two lived with and patched up the guys from 1st Battalion, 25th Marines, known as "New England's Own" and including Plainville's Charlie Company.
Jordan is quiet. The 23-year-old, now a surgical tech on the Groton base, doesn't relish attention. His citation describes a night he hasn't even told his family in Minnesota about. Jordan thinks Purple Hearts should go to those more seriously hurt or killed. As for courage, he says there are plenty walking around the clinic who have done similar things. "I hate this," he says of all the fuss.
His wound was to his hand, his skin seared while he worked on a torn-up Marine. The injured sergeant was hurt with two others when a mine exploded beneath their Humvee, in the same convoy Jordan was in. Jordan didn't really notice his burn at the time, but as he worked on the man, the Humvee beside them was on fire. He treated the sergeant and dragged him away from the vehicle.
"That night, yeah, I think I did a good job," he says. But that's about all there is to it, he thinks. With or without the new medals, what he carries inside is a quiet knowledge that when things go bad, he can hack it.
Tyler, 26, has "mixed feelings" about the new decoration on his chest. When a bomb buried in a Fallujah road blasted through the bottom of a Humvee in his convoy, the Marines strewn on the ground were his friends.
"All that I did was my job," he said. He was the only corpsman around, and four friends were hurt - two of them badly. He ran along the dark street to them, tripping in the bomb crater. Then he started fast care.
"Doc, he's turning blue."
"Don't leave me, Doc."
He cut an airway in one Marine's windpipe, to keep him alive long enough to get to a hospital. He attached tourniquets on another's legs, one of which would later be lost. A year later in Groton, where he's medical liaison to the sub fleet, a hot breeze or a car backfiring can transport Tyler back to those memories for a moment. "It just comes in flashes."
The Marines Jordan and Tyler worked on those nights lived. They and other corpsmen saved dozens of New England's Own, though the battalion lost 11.
Lt. Col. Kris Stillings drove from the unit headquarters in Massachusetts to attend Tuesday. "A corpsman becomes one of the brothers," he says. Having corpsmen to keep them alive is "the reason why Marines are able to do what they're able to do."
"Two American heroes are standing in front of you right now," Stillings tells the ceremony crowd.
The heroes dutifully shake hands with everybody. Then they go back to work.
Contact Jesse Hamilton at jhamilton@courant.com.
Ellie