thedrifter
06-05-07, 06:26 AM
Last modified 6/5/2007 - 6:02 am
Originally created 060507
My day in the dunker
This writer considers himself a fit 40something, but gym visits, 5Ks and sprint triathlons didn't prepare him for ...
By Jeff Brumley, The Times-Union
It was shortly before 8 o'clock Thursday morning when I was asking myself: "What am I doing here?"
Two Navy sailors and I, in full flight gear and opaque goggles at Jacksonville Naval Air Station, were seated and strapped inside a giant beer can-shaped contraption called "the dunker," which is designed to simulate a crashed aircraft. In seconds it would drop 7 feet into a pool, turn upside-down and sink into 12 feet of water. Our mission was - while holding our breath - to unstrap, discern up from down, find a narrow exit and swim to safety.
"Everybody ready?" one of the Navy instructors shouted. With the others I yelled "ready," but really wanted to say, "get me out of here."
What was I doing - and why?
I was taking the Navy's initial survival course taken by all sailors, Marines and Coast Guard members who fly on military aircraft. Lt. Cmdr. Susan Jay, director of the Aviation Survival Training Center at Jacksonville Naval Air Station, said the course prepares aviators to survive aviation mishaps at sea and on land.
Somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 students a year come through the center, which teaches its initial survival course once a quarter and refresher courses about six times a month, Jay said.
The center is one of seven such facilities in the Navy, and students can include law enforcement personnel and civilians whose jobs regularly place them on military aircraft, Jay said.
The Navy required me to take the course after approving my request to fly on one of its Jacksonville-based P-3 Orion patrol planes. I was there with about a dozen other students, most of them enlisted Navy fliers.
What subjects are taught at the center?
It's a crash course in aviation physiology, the aeromedical aspects of ejection seats, combat first aid, parachute fall and landing methods, flight equipment swimming, underwater problem solving, waterborne parachute drag, and the aforementioned underwater escape exercise.
Was I ready for something this grueling?
I agreed to the training because I was sure my regular gym routine and the handful of 5Ks and sprint triathlons I run each year would help this 43-year-old reporter succeed.
The first day
On Tuesday, we listened to talks about the low-pressure chamber, the indoor ejection seat and parachute descent trainers. Then we went and used those devices.
A low-pressure chamber is a large, rectangular room that re-creates the effects of hypoxia - oxygen deprivation - on the human body.
We were taken to a simulated altitude of close to 30,000 feet, told to remove our oxygen masks and start playing patty cakes with the student next to us.
The Navy really had us play patty cakes?
Yes.
Well, they tried anyway.
The idea was to demonstrate how quickly coordination and vision begin to deteriorate under those conditions.
My partner in the exercise, Marine Lance Cpl. Richard Oglesby, 22, said he started noticing the signs of hypoxia in himself almost immediately.
"My hands started shaking, which was uncontrollable," he said. "I knew I was slowing down, but I couldn't do anything about it."
My memory vs. the video
What I remember from the chamber is putting the oxygen mask back on and switching to 100 percent oxygen when told to do so by one of the instructors.
But the video shows the instructor picking up my air mask and holding it to my face for several seconds before I responded.
"I saw you slowing down while we were playing patty cakes, and then I saw the corpsman putting your mask on for you," Oglesby said. "I was kinda laughing about that in my head."
The second day: Fun at the pool
After a morning of lecture and video, we were off to the pool to learn to swim in full flight gear (helmets, harnesses, flight gloves and boots) and without the aid of flotation devices.
I did pretty well in all the above activities and usually exited the pool with a big smile on my face.
Not so much smiling on the third day
There was the parachute drag and parachute disentanglement; we practiced using emergency underwater breathing devices and escaping from the underwater escape trainer.
The parachute drag exercise simulates being pulled across water by an inflated parachute.
So they dragged me back and forth across the pool, on my back, three times before I could get out of my harness. It was embarrassing, but I passed.
Yikes - the dunker
Every student I talked to about "the dunker" feared it.
Petty Officer 2nd Class Roger Debiase even asked why jet crew members like himself - who most likely would eject from their stricken aircraft - had to endure the dunker.
"Let's say you eject from an S-3, a helo picks you up and then the helo goes down," civilian instructor Al Parks said to uproarious laughter. "You're having a real bad day."
So down we went
Each person had to take four trips in the dunker - two without opaque goggles, and two with.
With vision, it wasn't so bad. Even fun. I felt the water rush in and took a deep breath. Once inverted, I unbuckled and swam toward the light.
But with the black goggles on, to simulate nighttime conditions, it was flat-out scary.
To the rescue
On my fourth ride in the dunker, I became disoriented.
I forgot the route I planned to take out the window and slammed my head into a wall where I thought the exit would be.
I began to feel panicky at that moment.
Fortunately, Petty Officer 2nd Class Cory Flament was behind me, realized I was in trouble and helped guide me to the surface.
I had been one second from summoning the center's nearby divers for help.
Afterward, Flament, a 21-year-old helicopter crewman stationed as Jacksonville Naval Air Station, was joking with me about being in the dunker for the first time.
"It was the craziest thing I've ever done," he said, spitting water. "It seems like it puts you close to a life-and-death situation."
'People don't like it'
I passed all sections of the course with a "Q" for qualified, but I am glad I don't have to ride that dunker again.
Lt. Cmdr. Jay said she hears that a lot, even from Navy pilots.
"The dunker leads the pack" in the most-dreaded-events category, Jay said. "Some people just don't like being turned upside-down underwater."
jeff.brumley@jacksonville.com, (904) 359-4310
Ellie
Originally created 060507
My day in the dunker
This writer considers himself a fit 40something, but gym visits, 5Ks and sprint triathlons didn't prepare him for ...
By Jeff Brumley, The Times-Union
It was shortly before 8 o'clock Thursday morning when I was asking myself: "What am I doing here?"
Two Navy sailors and I, in full flight gear and opaque goggles at Jacksonville Naval Air Station, were seated and strapped inside a giant beer can-shaped contraption called "the dunker," which is designed to simulate a crashed aircraft. In seconds it would drop 7 feet into a pool, turn upside-down and sink into 12 feet of water. Our mission was - while holding our breath - to unstrap, discern up from down, find a narrow exit and swim to safety.
"Everybody ready?" one of the Navy instructors shouted. With the others I yelled "ready," but really wanted to say, "get me out of here."
What was I doing - and why?
I was taking the Navy's initial survival course taken by all sailors, Marines and Coast Guard members who fly on military aircraft. Lt. Cmdr. Susan Jay, director of the Aviation Survival Training Center at Jacksonville Naval Air Station, said the course prepares aviators to survive aviation mishaps at sea and on land.
Somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 students a year come through the center, which teaches its initial survival course once a quarter and refresher courses about six times a month, Jay said.
The center is one of seven such facilities in the Navy, and students can include law enforcement personnel and civilians whose jobs regularly place them on military aircraft, Jay said.
The Navy required me to take the course after approving my request to fly on one of its Jacksonville-based P-3 Orion patrol planes. I was there with about a dozen other students, most of them enlisted Navy fliers.
What subjects are taught at the center?
It's a crash course in aviation physiology, the aeromedical aspects of ejection seats, combat first aid, parachute fall and landing methods, flight equipment swimming, underwater problem solving, waterborne parachute drag, and the aforementioned underwater escape exercise.
Was I ready for something this grueling?
I agreed to the training because I was sure my regular gym routine and the handful of 5Ks and sprint triathlons I run each year would help this 43-year-old reporter succeed.
The first day
On Tuesday, we listened to talks about the low-pressure chamber, the indoor ejection seat and parachute descent trainers. Then we went and used those devices.
A low-pressure chamber is a large, rectangular room that re-creates the effects of hypoxia - oxygen deprivation - on the human body.
We were taken to a simulated altitude of close to 30,000 feet, told to remove our oxygen masks and start playing patty cakes with the student next to us.
The Navy really had us play patty cakes?
Yes.
Well, they tried anyway.
The idea was to demonstrate how quickly coordination and vision begin to deteriorate under those conditions.
My partner in the exercise, Marine Lance Cpl. Richard Oglesby, 22, said he started noticing the signs of hypoxia in himself almost immediately.
"My hands started shaking, which was uncontrollable," he said. "I knew I was slowing down, but I couldn't do anything about it."
My memory vs. the video
What I remember from the chamber is putting the oxygen mask back on and switching to 100 percent oxygen when told to do so by one of the instructors.
But the video shows the instructor picking up my air mask and holding it to my face for several seconds before I responded.
"I saw you slowing down while we were playing patty cakes, and then I saw the corpsman putting your mask on for you," Oglesby said. "I was kinda laughing about that in my head."
The second day: Fun at the pool
After a morning of lecture and video, we were off to the pool to learn to swim in full flight gear (helmets, harnesses, flight gloves and boots) and without the aid of flotation devices.
I did pretty well in all the above activities and usually exited the pool with a big smile on my face.
Not so much smiling on the third day
There was the parachute drag and parachute disentanglement; we practiced using emergency underwater breathing devices and escaping from the underwater escape trainer.
The parachute drag exercise simulates being pulled across water by an inflated parachute.
So they dragged me back and forth across the pool, on my back, three times before I could get out of my harness. It was embarrassing, but I passed.
Yikes - the dunker
Every student I talked to about "the dunker" feared it.
Petty Officer 2nd Class Roger Debiase even asked why jet crew members like himself - who most likely would eject from their stricken aircraft - had to endure the dunker.
"Let's say you eject from an S-3, a helo picks you up and then the helo goes down," civilian instructor Al Parks said to uproarious laughter. "You're having a real bad day."
So down we went
Each person had to take four trips in the dunker - two without opaque goggles, and two with.
With vision, it wasn't so bad. Even fun. I felt the water rush in and took a deep breath. Once inverted, I unbuckled and swam toward the light.
But with the black goggles on, to simulate nighttime conditions, it was flat-out scary.
To the rescue
On my fourth ride in the dunker, I became disoriented.
I forgot the route I planned to take out the window and slammed my head into a wall where I thought the exit would be.
I began to feel panicky at that moment.
Fortunately, Petty Officer 2nd Class Cory Flament was behind me, realized I was in trouble and helped guide me to the surface.
I had been one second from summoning the center's nearby divers for help.
Afterward, Flament, a 21-year-old helicopter crewman stationed as Jacksonville Naval Air Station, was joking with me about being in the dunker for the first time.
"It was the craziest thing I've ever done," he said, spitting water. "It seems like it puts you close to a life-and-death situation."
'People don't like it'
I passed all sections of the course with a "Q" for qualified, but I am glad I don't have to ride that dunker again.
Lt. Cmdr. Jay said she hears that a lot, even from Navy pilots.
"The dunker leads the pack" in the most-dreaded-events category, Jay said. "Some people just don't like being turned upside-down underwater."
jeff.brumley@jacksonville.com, (904) 359-4310
Ellie