Honor, Courage, Commitment

by Leahy, John F.

  Johnson We got a lot of strikes about the gas mask. Our team had one guy, Kyaw, who took his off too early.

  Adams I died too. I fired okay, but then they said the gas was cleared, so I took off my mask, and put it on the floor, and then they yelled “gas!” again, and I was fooling with the mask. But they didn’t give me a strike. I just had to lie there for a couple minutes, and that was okay with me.

  Midnight: Investigate and Rescue

  The teams gathered up their gear and mustered outside on Ohio St. Hopkins and Gildersleeve had nabbed those on the front row and issued death threats to anyone who tried to outpace the facilitators on the run back to Building 1312. “We meant it, too,” said the 6-foot, 5-inch tall master-at-arms afterward. “No way these long legs were going to make it through the night if we kept movin’ like we was.” The division got the hint.

  The group double-timed its way down Ohio St. The pace had slowed somewhat, partly because Petty Officer Russell had taken the lead, and neither she nor Petty Officer Kent had any desire to burn out the division early in the evening. The group did experience its first strikeout of the evening, however. A helmet had fallen from one of the recruits running near the front of the line, and Airman Recruit Cumpson stopped to pick it up. This was a serious safety violation, as it endangered those running behind him. The division had been drilled, time and again, that any loose gear was to remain on the road, and the road guards, running in the last rank, were the only ones authorized to stop and pick up gear. Russell escorted the crestfallen recruit to the barracks shortly after midnight.

  Sison It was too bad about Cumpson. I think he was trying to help out. But they had told us to call out “Gear on the deck!” if something fell during the run, and to let it lie there for the road guards on the last row to pick up.

  Dispirited by the turn of events, the team reached the battle stations building behind schedule. They were met by PNl(SW) Robinson and AD1(AW) Velasco, who quickly ordered them to don oxygen breathing apparatus (OBAs) and divide into six-person stretcher teams for the investigate and rescue scenario—one of the most realistic and frightening exercises of the evening.

  Petty Officer Robinson set the scene: “Your team has been assigned to investigate a smoke-filled compartment looking for, locating, and removing any victims to safety. You will have completed your mission when all of your team is accounted for, living or dead. Your assigned area is outside the primary fire boundaries, and because the ship’s fire party is committed to the main casualty, your team has only OBAs, two Stokes baskets, and two battle lanterns available to complete the mission.

  “During a shipyard overhaul in 1992, USS Holland (AS-32) experienced a spill of hazardous material when a 5-gallon container of Xylene (a thinnerlike, toxic cleaning solution) was crushed in a cargo elevator, spilling contents from the main deck to the seventh deck and into a storeroom. Toxic fumes contaminated the entire forward third of the ship within minutes of the casualty. Most of the areas affected were berthing areas that berthed up to five hundred personnel. The primary concern for the fire party was to locate and remove any crew members who may have still been in the berthing area and possibly overcome by the fumes. Electrical power had been isolated in that part of the ship, making location of personnel difficult. Due to the methodical and effective and quick search of the areas, several of the crewmen were located and removed to the weather deck where the corpsmen could attend them.

  “This particular fire party was quick on their feet and, even though fire fighting was not the mission of the party, they adapted their skills, teamwork, and can-do spirit to ensure the safety of their shipmates.

  “The need for quick and effective action in this type of casualty can occur in port or at sea at any time of day or night. You must be able to adapt to the situation. Now you must show commitment to your team by staying together and saving your shipmates. Are you ready, recruits?”

  The division was sequestered in a closed anteroom, lined with shelves of damage-control equipment. Robinson explained the dangers of the standard OBA. Once activated, the canister becomes very hot and must be handled with fire-retardant gloves. The facilitators had three criteria for their inspection—OBA not properly activated, timer not set, and poor seal on the face mask—any one of which could lead to fatality in a real fire. The recruits donned their gloves, breastplates, and face masks, and assembled by the door.

  The first stretcher parties exited into an adjacent passageway. At the far end was a standard watertight door, tightly dogged. Inside that door was a compartment, identical to a typical berthing space at sea. Rows of bunks, tables, chairs, and personal effects filled the room.

  Each six-person team removed a Stokes basket from the port bulkhead, and lined up fore and aft facing the watertight compartment. Robinson inspected them again, paying close attention to the operation of the OBA. Although the smoke in the room was not toxic, once the door was closed behind the fire parties, the recruits would be unable to breathe without support. Several recruits received their first strike of the evening for improper use of their life-saving equipment.

  Johnson Well, I took one strike for not turning my timer back to 30. So that kind of disappointed me at that point.

  Several recruits had been quietly removed from the anteroom and had been positioned—wearing functioning OBAs—as victims within the watertight compartment. Unlike in the mass casualty exercise, these recruits would be rescued only once, and would return later as stretcher-party members. Dan Kent, properly equipped, remained inside the smoke chamber as a casualty/observer, assisting MM1 Mike Bandlow, the safety manager for the exercise.

  A smoke generator filled the room with thick, black, greasy smoke, and the lights were extinguished. The casualties were positioned as one would expect in a sleeping compartment, although safety rules prohibited placement in the upper racks. Two teams of six would enter together and search the area thoroughly. Teams were to stay linked at all times. Only the team leader’s hands were free to explore the deck, bulkheads, and equipment in the room. The others were required to keep one hand on the Stokes basket at all times, and the forward stretcher-bearer had the additional responsibility of holding the D-ring on the back of the leader’s OBA.

  With a nod from Petty Officer Robinson, the teams entered the smoke-filled compartment.

  David Mills, 18, South Daytona, Florida

  We went inside, and they closed the door behind us. It was pitch dark. You’ve heard people say, “I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face”—well, I couldn’t. The smoke was heavy, there were no windows, and no lights, and the mask of the OBA started to fog up. I had no idea where I was or what was around me.

  McClellan Our team leader took my team right to the very back of the room, and then proceeded to lead us around in a circle for the whole time, like a two-foot circle for the whole time. Meanwhile, Petty Officer Kent is up in the front, dying from the smoke.

  Alcazar I was the search leader for that stretcher party. I was nervous, because they had us line up, because he kept yelling, “Person Number Six, get the battle lantern!” and I didn’t realize right away that I was number six. You can’t see real well with those OBAs on. When we went in there, it was difficult, because our victim was in a really hard place to find. When we found Petty Officer Kent, he was hiding between the corner of the bunks and the place where you came in. He was real close to the door, but we went all the way to the back, before we realized that the victim could have been behind us. And he was.

  Johnson Well, we passed right by a body, because it was in the bunk right near the front door.

  Burger My group only got one victim. That was Petty Officer Kent, and that’s because he was big, and in blue. We never did find SR Burrell—they had her hidden under the bottom rack, right up against the wall. There was no way we could see her in the dark and smoke.

  Melissa Stamp, 21, Englewood, Colorado

  I was the dead person for the first team. I was the first one they used as a victim
, and that team never did find me, and I was in there for awhile. So, when I was holding the stretcher later, I was trying to tell Freeman where to go and what to do, but she wouldn’t listen.

  Freeman Man, I couldn’t hear anything, with the noise and the masks and all, and it’s a dark room and full of smoke, and I’m the search leader and I can’t see nothing! I got a strike there because I got away from my team, tying to find the body. I went left and they went right, and I wound up back by the door, and that’s where the body was, anyway. But I got a strike for getting away from my team.

  Gildersleeve They had Atitsogbuie as our victim. That dude is heavy, and big—he’s like six-six. I thought there was a dummy, he was so heavy, till I felt, and he was flexible and soft, like, and it was, Oh man! It’s A.T.! We ain’t never gonna get this guy outta here. But we did.

  Adams I was the team leader on my stretcher, and all I could see was bunks and bunks and bunks. And I was so afraid that Wirsch was gonna let go of my D-ring, and I’d get a strike, because if she let go, we’d never get back together. The only thing was, the team that was in front of us found their victim before we did, and laid the stretcher right between the bunks, and I tripped over Atitsogbuie and nearly killed him.

  The teams cycled through the smoke-filled compartment. Some were successful in finding their casualties within the time permitted, others were not. The large number of strikes incurred by recruits who did not energize their OBAs properly concerned Petty Officer Russell. “That gets me right in the heart,” she said. “I’ve spent my entire career as a damage controlman. These kids think it’s a game. They get out into the fleet—somebody is gonna wind up dead from that kind of knuckleheaded mistake. They have got to learn that, and learn it now. We try to teach ’em but...,” she shook her head.

  Still behind schedule, the team gathered outside Building 1312 for the transit to their next event.

  Johnson Here’s the funny thing, see. I went back after we graduated, as part of field day, and man, that room is small! I thought it was, like, a gym or something, but it’s not much bigger than this office [about 12 x 20 feet]. It just seemed big, in the dark with all that smoke and the OBAs on and all.

  *Petty Officer Bowser is a signalman, first class (E6), with surface warfare qualifications.

  *Petty Officer Robinson is a personnelman, first class (E6), with surface warfare qualifications.

  **Petty Officer Velasco is an aviation machinist’s mate, first class (E6), with air warfare qualifications.

  *Petty Officer Rotello is an aviation electrician’s mate, first class (E6), with air warfare qualifications.

  13

  Battle Stations! Finishing the Course

  0100, USS Marlinespike

  The recruits left Building 1312 at 0050. A cold, light rain had begun to fall. The temperature hovered just above freezing as they double-timed south on Indiana St.

  Not everyone was headed to the USS Marlinespike, however. SR Edgar Lee, who had picked up a safety violation strike at the weapons trainer, incurred two more at Investigate and Rescue, and was finished for the evening. He had forgotten to energize his OBA and to set the timer. Crestfallen, he walked slowly back to Ship Eight, accompanied by Petty Officer Russell.

  Russell rejoined the division in time for the next casualty of the evening. SR Stephanie Prosper, whose knee had continued to swell during the evening, requested aid, and at 0100 the duty corpsman pronounced her unfit to continue. Fortunately, the Marlinespike trainer was just a few hundred feet from Ship Eight, and she was escorted to the compartment by the medical corpsman. By 0100 Division 005 had lost three participants, and had several more with two strikes. Things were not going well for the division at all.

  Division 005’s luck continued to deteriorate, along with the weather. The division had spent but a single afternoon aboard the Marlinespike, early in their fourth week of training. Unfortunately, seamanship training corresponded with the major outbreak of the Ricky Crud. Many had been sick in quarters and had missed those important hands-on exercises. For nearly a quarter of the division, this would be their first visit to the shipboard training simulator.

  Stamp I for one had had never been there before. I had ship’s watch the day the division trained on the Marlinespike.

  Adams I was on watch the day everyone else went. But I thought, hey, this is cool. I mean, it even looked like a ship, you know?

  Marlinespike, constructed in 1991, does indeed resemble a Navy ship. Nearly 50 feet long and 30 feet tall, it is an accurate, quarter-scale model of a Navy auxiliary and can easily accommodate a full recruit division.

  As the recruits crowded the bleachers in an adjacent classroom, SM1(SW) Scott Bowser set the scene for the next event. “The USS Marlinespike has been ordered to sortie due to an approaching hurricane. This is an event often encountered by sailors on the East Coast, sometimes more than once a year. Often word comes when there is only the duty section on board. You, the crew of the Marlinespike, have just reported aboard and have very little experience. Still, the job must be done, and drawing on what your instructors before have taught you and using your ability to come together as a team, you must get this ship under way.”

  Bowser counted off various teams. About half the recruits would be assigned as line handlers; others would play various roles as telephone talkers, line captains, and port workers. A small group was randomly chosen to play ship’s officers and was dispatched to the bridge. The team would have only seventeen minutes to get the ship unmoored and ready for sea.

  The recruits filed out of the classroom, and climbed the brow to the Marlinespike’s main deck. The lights dimmed, and eight stereo speakers surrounding the ship provided realistic sounds of a major storm overhead. Bowser started a large, visible timer and gave the order to get under way.

  Nothing happened.

  Few, if any, of the bridge crew had participated in the training sessions. Key telephone talkers had no idea of what to do, or when. Line captains awaited directions. Some recruits milled around on the main deck, others waited passively for orders. One line team took things into their own hands, and the members were soon declared dead from “line snapback,” a natural consequence of attempting to disengage heavy hawsers still under strain. It quickly became a case of the living envying the dead: the dead at least were sequestered on the forecastle, and were spared further humiliation, which worsened as the clock ticked down.

  Johnson I was just confused. I was just totally lost. The last time I was on the pier, this time I was on the ship. Nobody knew what we were supposed to be doing.

  Hattrich I don’t think our team was very motivated; no one really wanted to take charge and get things going. We were, like, just hanging around waiting for something to happen. I was a telephone talker at the aft end, and I was trying to tell both teams things I had remembered, but they were just standing there.

  Shari Courtheyn, 19, Minerva, Ohio

  Nobody knew what to do! No one knew how to bring in the line, and get it manned and ready.

  Leitner Well, they made me a telephone talker down on the deck, but the guy up on the bridge never did connect his phone, so I’m talking and talking, and there isn’t anyone answering. I knew my phone was working, because I could hear the team on the aft end, but nothing from the bridge. Come to find out, they never plugged in their phone up there.

  Gildersleeve Well, shoot, man. See, I didn’t get a chance to do it before, because I was light limited duty when we were on it the last time. And didn’t the man put me up in the house, and make me telephone talker. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing, or anything. I’m just standing up there, like, I don’t know, just standing up there.

  McClellan When they had about four or five minutes left, and I had gotten a strike for allowing my knee to touch the nonskid surface of the deck, and everyone was standing there with their thumbs up their [butts], I knew it was gonna be a long evening.

  Tasheka Gamble, 19, Mounds, Illinois

  By then,
I wasn’t worried about getting the ship under way. I was just worried that if they were going to make us sprint again, and not jog, that I wasn’t going to make it and I’d fail battle stations. For me, thinking that was the worst part.

  Kent and Russell looked on in dismay and disbelief from the bleachers adjacent to the mockup. The clock continued its race to zero, and when the seventeen minutes had expired, the ship was still snugly in port. Division 005 had failed the evolution.

  BMC(SW)* Adam Beller is leading chief of the Seamanship Training Division. Interviewed later, he explained, “Actually, it’s not unusual for divisions to fail the Marlinespike exercise during battle stations. We know we have two major difficulties to overcome. Because of the large number of recruits who cycle through the Marlinespike, most divisions get less than a single afternoon of training on board. And because of the heavy training schedule these recruits undertake, that training happens during their fourth week here. By the time they’ve gone through Service Week, the gas house, firefighting and their PT tests, many of them have forgotten what they’ve learned. We’re aware of the problem, and are trying to move seamanship training later in the training cycle.”

  Kent and Russell mustered the division in the passageway. “What’s the matter with you people!” Kent shouted. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I’m ashamed of you, I really am. You guys don’t deserve to pass battle stations, you know that? Now get outside. We’re going for a little run.”

  Trenton Kessimakis, 20, Salt Lake City, Utah

  When we blew the exercise, Petty Officer Kent was going, like, “Awwww,” like he was mad because we didn’t know what to do.

  Adams Petty Officer Russell was so mad after the Marlinespike, she and the other petty officer made us sprint all the way back to the battle stations building. But I figured it wasn’t our fault if people hadn’t been there before, you know?