A soldier’s heroism, known by too few, getting wider honors

May 15, 2015 – Edward Colimore, Inquirer Staff Writer

James Castaldi (right) manned an M-60 machine gun with Bill Port. Neither man would live to return home.

They were sent out that day on a search-and-destroy mission.

James Castaldi of Magnolia and a couple of dozen comrades in the Army’s Seventh Cavalry headed down a mountainside Jan. 12, 1968 – right into a hornet’s nest of about 200 heavily armed North Vietnamese troops.

The enemy was moving through the Que Son Valley in preparation for the planned Tet Offensive on Jan. 30 and quickly overwhelmed Castaldi’s unit, not unlike the Seventh Cavalry under Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

The platoon leader and sergeant were quickly hit as the unit sought high ground, and Castaldi – then a private – tried to fill the void, firing a machine gun until he ran out of ammunition, then using his handgun until he was killed by an explosive satchel charge.

On Saturday, 47 years later, he will be posthumously awarded the Silver Star – third-highest military decoration for valor – during an 11 a.m. ceremony at American Legion Post 372 in Cherry Hill.
“He deserves it,” said Castaldi’s cousin Anthony Caravello, 78, of Havertown, who grew up with him and will accept the medal on Armed Forces Day. “He’s a hero.”

At age 26, the tall and lanky Castaldi was one of the older members of Company C, Fifth Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, a unit made up mostly of 19-, 20-, and 21-year-olds. He and Bill Port, 27, manned a belt-fed M-60 machine gun.

“Jimmy was quiet, a good fellow,” said former platoon leader Tom Golden, now 68, a retired Pennsylvania state trooper who lives in Harrisburg. “Everyone was family.

“We weren’t hoping to run into anything that day, but if we ran into something, we’d take care of it,” he said. “I just wanted to keep my guys alive another day.”

Golden, an auctioneer in Harrisburg who owns a coin shop, didn’t know “we were going to bump into anything that size,” speaking of the swarm of North Vietnamese soldiers pouring through Quang Nam province.

He was seriously wounded early in the fight when he twice threw himself between enemy grenades and comrades. He was hit by shrapnel in both legs as well as in his back and an arm.

“We were pinned down all day,” said Golden, who later received the Bronze Star with V, denoting valor in combat. “I saw Jimmy moving from position to position to help guys.

“He was right out in the open, putting his life at risk,” he said. “I think I told him to get his ass down.”

Port, a Petersburg, Pa., native, was shot in the hand but helped rescue another wounded comrade and later smothered a grenade with his body to protect others. He was taken prisoner, died of his wounds in captivity, and was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

Stepping in to fill the void was Castaldi, who showed “no fear while delivering fire on the enemy,” Golden said.

His heroism helped keep the unit together at a critical time, saving lives. “We didn’t have many who weren’t wounded,” Golden added.

At the mountaintop landing zone where the platoon originally coptered in, the commander of Company C, then-Capt. Mike Davison Jr., could see the smoke rising from the hill where the battle was underway and heard the gunfire.

He helped direct artillery and mortar fire around the embattled platoon and eventually called in airstrikes.

“Castaldi and other soldiers took the initiative to establish what they could of a perimeter,” said Davison, 73, a retired Army lieutenant general and a Myrtle Beach, S.C., resident, who will present the Silver Star.

After Port was wounded, Castaldi “took over the machine gun without hesitation and moved to a more exposed position to protect a flank,” Davison said.

The decimated platoon broke contact with the enemy under the cover of darkness.

By then, Golden, unconscious from blood loss, was flown out by helicopter for treatment of his wounds and never had a chance to deliver an after-action report to Davison, who went on to other fighting during the Tet Offensive.

The story of Castaldi’s heroism that day “fell through the cracks,” Davison said.

But about three years ago, still haunted by the battle, Golden located Davison and e-mailed him his report.

With that and the testimony of other surviving members of the unit, Davison sought the Silver Star, which was approved by the Army in January.

Then came the job of finding the next of kin to receive the medal. Golden reached out to Sue Quinn-Morris, a member of the Ladies Auxiliary of the American Legion Post in Cherry Hill, who had investigated similar cases. She learned that much of Castaldi’s direct family had passed on but did locate a cousin.

“This is a feel-good story,” said Quinn-Morris. Castaldi “didn’t die in vain. His acts will be recognized.”

They were already recognized by grateful comrades who never forgot his heroism.

“I did not know Castaldi well,” said Davison, who retired from the Army in 2000 and worked as an executive in the defense industry. “But certainly, it’s very satisfying to close this chapter.”

War “has a profound impact on what you think about,” he said. “That day is a day I never stop thinking about. . . . We’re the fortunate ones who came home and picked up our lives.”

Added Golden: “Everybody did their part and then some. It was like a day in hell.”