35 Miles from Shore (26 page)

Charles Mayes and Jim Brawley arrived on scene just as the Navy helicopter began picking up survivors from the main group. They spotted two people in the water upwind of the main group. Both appeared to be unconscious. Jim told the crewman to lower the rescue basket. Neither person made an attempt to get inside the basket. Jim decided to try a platform pickup. He had the same trouble trying to land in the rough seas as had Bill Shields. They abandoned their attempts and waited for the SH-3A to finish their pickups. As soon as Saltspray 15 departed the scene, they moved in and began bringing up survivors from the main group.

Operating the hoist system requires a degree of skill. The operator has to lean out of the helicopter and guide the cable with his right hand while his left hand works the toggle switch that operates the hoist. It can be a difficult task even in good weather. When the crewman in back said he was having difficulty controlling the basket in the strong winds, Charles Mayes left his seat and went in back to assist.

The HH-52A had a maximum gross weight of 8,400 pounds. With three crewmembers on board and full fuel, a full load would have been four passengers. After they picked up the sixth survivor, Jim Brawley expressed some concern that they might be overweight. Commander Mayes looked over Brawley's shoulders and saw that they had burned off a significant amount of fuel. He told Jim that
he thought they could safely pick up one more. After the seventh pickup, the helicopter was so full they couldn't have picked up another person even if they had wanted to. They departed the scene for St. Croix, leaving three people behind at the slide.
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Tom Blank continued to circle the scene in the HU-16. When he got word that a number of pleasure craft had left St. Croix and were headed to the accident scene, he told his radio operator to have the boats return to St. Croix. He didn't want them interfering with the rescue. It's not known if the message got through or how many boats were involved. At one point in the rescue, a Cessna 150 arrived over the scene with the intention of taking photographs. The small two-place plane was much slower than the HU-16 and the Skyvan and quickly became a flight hazard. The pilot of the Cessna refused to leave until Tom Blank threatened to report him for interfering with a rescue operation.
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When the last helicopter departed the accident scene, there were still people in the water. There were three people at the escape slide and at least two more people who were either dead or unconscious floating nearby. It was a little after six
P.M.
The weather had improved, but now it was starting to get dark. Tom looked out on the horizon, hoping to see the six Marine helicopters headed his way. He had sent word for them not long after the Navy helicopter had left the scene.

T
HE CREWS OF THE SIX
CH-46
HELICOPTERS HAD
not been very happy with the instructions from the Coast Guard HU-16 to land in St. Croix. In their minds, they were needlessly being kept away because of some inter-service rivalry. John Barber was one of those who disagreed with the order to land in St. Croix. But rather than waste time complaining about the situation, he set out to get his helicopter refueled. It was immediately apparent to Barber that it was going to take some time for the lone fueler to fuel each helicopter. Barber and Vince Perron, the extra crew chief who had hopped aboard as they refueled on the deck of the
Guadalcanal
, jumped out of the helicopter and approached the fueler. Vince Perron was a tall, strapping farm boy from Minnesota. While other guys had pinups taped to the inside of their lockers, Vince kept pictures of John Deere tractors and combines. “You're gonna fuel EM-13 first,” Vince said threateningly to the fueler. The instructions Barber and Perron had received was that the Marine helicopters were going to be called out one at a time. They didn't
want to be the last ones fueled. “Yes, sir,” the fueler replied, looking up at the imposing figure staring down at him.

While the helicopters were being refueled, the pilots gathered inside the terminal to learn what they could about the ditching. When a Coast Guard helicopter landed with four survivors, several of the Marine pilots ran out to talk to the Coast Guard crew. Minutes later, two of the Marine helicopters were starting their engines. They departed St. Croix at 6:00
P.M.

Not long after the first two helicopters departed, Art Nash and Bill Murphy returned with news that they were next to launch. At 6:15
P.M.
, EM-13 and EM-15 headed out from St. Croix. The last two helicopters departed a few minutes later.

Twenty minutes after leaving St. Croix, Art Nash's voice came over the intercom. “Okay, keep your eyes open. We're coming up on the crash scene.” Art could see the two helicopters that had taken off before him. The anti-collision lights on the top of each helicopter created a pulsating light that lit up the misty atmosphere of cloud, water, and spray.

Barber connected the pistol grip to the ceiling-mounted hoist control panel. The pistol grip was attached to a twenty-five foot cable that allowed him to operate the hoist remotely. He opened the hell-hole door and folded it backwards. He then took up his position lying flat on the door, looking straight down into the water. Randy Logan and Vince Perron served as an extra set of eyes. Vince stared out the gunner's window while Randy Logan stood in the doorway to the cockpit and looked straight ahead through the cockpit windows along with the pilots.

The first thing John saw was a small light. The light was attached to a life preserver, which was around the neck of a thin, elderly man still dressed in a business suit. “I got someone,” John said over the intercom. “You're coming straight at him.” John started giving Art directions.
“Okay, come forward, come forward, come forward...okay, slow down, slow down.” But the helicopter didn't slow. It flew right over the man. “You just overshot him!” Barber yelled into the intercom.

“I have another one lined up,” Art Nash said. Art had seen the first individual but the man looked unconscious, so he decided to go for the next person he spotted.

The second individual, however, didn't appear to be any more responsive than the first. Randy Logan, dressed in only his flight suit and wearing a Mae West life preserver, volunteered to go into the water after the man. After some discussion as to whether it was worth the risk, Randy got into the horse collar and Barber lowered him to the water. Randy immediately set to work getting the unconscious man into the rescue sling. It was dusk now and becoming harder for the pilots to find a reference point to use for hovering. Art Nash, who was the pilot in command, decided to hand over the controls to Bill Murphy, who had more experience flying the CH-46. It was a smart, unselfish decision by Art Nash.

Barber struggled to keep an eye on the two men in the water as they bobbed up and down in the huge swells. He gave constant instructions to Murphy—left, right, forward, back—to keep the helicopter from drifting away. Unlike the crews of the Coast Guard Helicopter and the Navy SH-3A helicopter, the pilots of the CH-46s couldn't see the hoist operation. They had to rely solely on directions from the crew chief.

Once Randy had the sling in place around the unconscious man he gave a thumbs up signal, indicating to Barber to raise the hoist. As John raised the hoist, he continued to keep one eye on Randy Logan, fearful that he could easily lose him and never find him again in the dark. John ran the hoist to the stop. The man was left dangling in the center of the helicopter, his feet barely clearing the hell hole. At this point he and Vince noticed that the man had stripped
down to his underwear. There was nothing to grab onto to pull him inside. The flimsy life vest around his neck was of little help. Adding to the problem was the man's size. Barber guessed him to be well over 250 pounds. His skin was cold and clammy. He was dead weight. John let out some slack in the cable and with one hand pushed him toward Vince, who grabbed him and pulled him inside.

Vince removed the man's life vest and immediately started performing CPR. He did this despite the fact that the man's upper lip appeared to be gone. There was just a thin bloody strip where his lip should have been.
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Barber meanwhile turned his full attention to retrieving Randy Logan, who by now was barely visible in the dwindling light. Once Randy was safely aboard, Barber closed the hell-hole and started helping Vince by doing chest compressions. Alternately they would turn the man over and use a back pressure method of respiration, which involved applying pressure to his back, then pulling his arms and shoulders back in an attempt to clear his lungs of salt water.

While Vince and John were busy in back, Randy Logan gave Art Nash and Bill Murphy a quick assessment of what was happening. Art decided to fly immediately to St. Croix, where the man could receive medical treatment. He knew there were other helicopters in the area, plus by now it was so dark it was almost impossible to find a reference point for hovering.

Pilots Glenn Warren and Ned Lemoine were flying helicopter EM-07. They were the first to depart St. Croix and the first to arrive on scene. In back were Sergeant Gary Bockman, Lance Corporal William Schrader, and a Navy corpsman. Earlier in the day, twenty-year-old Bill
Schrader had taken his final flight test to qualify as a crew chief. Bill had spent the day performing all of the duties of a crew chief while his examiner, a Sergeant Blankenship, looked on to make sure everything was done correctly. While John Barber and the three helicopters with him were doing troop back-loading, Bill Schrader's crew and another helicopter were put to work hauling supplies and equipment back to the ship. One of Bill's first tasks was to supervise an external lift of supplies. The supplies had been placed atop a large cargo net. Bill guided the helicopter over the load of supplies, giving the pilot instructions on altitude and direction. He then lowered a hook through the hell-hole to have it attached to the cargo net. With this accomplished, he gave the pilots instructions to slowly lift the supplies. When Bill was assured that they had a good lift, he instructed the pilots to return to the ship. The next task was to lower the supplies to a waiting crew on the deck of the
Guadalcanal
. Blankenship wanted to see another external lift, so he had Bill set up a jeep lift. The jeep lift was a bit trickier because if it isn't rigged up properly the jeep can shift after being lifted and throw off the helicopter's center of gravity. Bill hooked up the jeep without difficulty, and the pilots got in a little practice of their own, flying with the heavy jeep suspended beneath them. Rather than fly the jeep back to the ship, Blankenship wanted to have Bill oversee the loading of the jeep into the helicopter through the loading ramp. Bill performed the task without difficulty.

When the helicopter returned to the
Guadalcanal
later that afternoon, Bill was feeling confident. Everything had gone smoothly. As soon as the rotors stopped turning and the noise quieted down, Sergeant Blankenship stuck out his hand and congratulated Bill on becoming a crew chief. The pilots congratulated him also, then told him to put the bird to bed. Bill folded the blades, put on the protective covers, then had the helicopter parked along with the others
on the side of the flight deck. He hadn't even made it off the flight deck to celebrate when he got word about the ditching. He saw the first four helicopters land and take on fuel. He had his helicopter pulled out of the pack. He was joined by Crew Chief Gary Bockman and a Navy corpsman. Bill performed another preflight and had the helicopter ready to go when pilots Glenn Warren and Ned Lemoine jumped in. Before departing, Bill and Gary grabbed some blankets and tossed them into the back of the helicopter. They didn't have time for anything else.

Warren and Lemoine departed the
Guadalcanal
along with another helicopter piloted by Captain Gordon Tubesing. The two helicopters were told to fly directly to St. Croix. The first four helicopters off the
Guadalcanal
were already on the ground in St. Croix when they landed.

Captains Warren and Tubesing weren't on the ground very long when they saw the Coast Guard helicopter land. After talking briefly with the two Coast Guard pilots, they were told to head out to the accident scene. Neither of their helicopters had been refueled. Both decided to go with the fuel they had, which was a little over an hour's worth.

The Coast Guard crew had briefed the pilots on where the plane had ditched, but both Warren and Tubesing had trouble locating the scene. Low ceilings and poor visibility forced the two helicopters to fly as low as 50 feet above the water. It was also becoming difficult to see due to the rapidly dwindling daylight. Glenn was concerned that if they didn't find the scene soon, they would have to return to St. Croix due to a lack of fuel.

The Navy corpsman was first to spot what looked like two or three people sitting in a life raft. Glenn wasted little time taking up a position directly over the slide. Bill Schrader and Gary Bockman prepared to lower the rescue sling. The first few attempts at lowering
the rescue collar were unsuccessful. The swells made it difficult to judge the distance between the helicopter and the survivors. Just when it looked like the collar was in position, the person trying to grab onto it would disappear into a trough. The wind was also causing havoc, blowing the collar off center and out of sight.

Each failed attempt was followed by an update on the fuel status. “We've got less than twenty minutes of fuel,” Ned Lemoine warned.

“Talk to me, Billy,” Captain Warren said over the radio. “We're not leaving until we get 'em all.” It was getting so dark that he was afraid that if they didn't get the three survivors now they wouldn't be recovered until the next day.

Bill Schrader had been a crew chief for a little more than two hours. He could count on one hand the number of hoists he had performed. As he peered down into the maelstrom below him, he could feel his stomach churning. He had felt some butterflies earlier in the day during his flight test, but this was different. This time there was no Sergeant Blankenship standing nearby to bail him out if he screwed up. This time the lives of three men rested squarely on his shoulders. Bill put aside his fears and focused on the task at hand. “We need to be closer to the water,” he announced over the ICS. As the helicopter inched lower, he was able to judge the swells better. “Hold it right there,” he said, sounding like a veteran crew chief. This time one of the men on the slide was able to grab and hold onto the rescue sling. The first pickup was a man with a beard. This was passenger Rick Arnold. He appeared to be suffering from hypothermia and was given a blanket. The second person rescued was a young male, later identified as passenger George Kellner. He was shivering uncontrollably. The Navy corpsman and Gary Bockman wrapped a blanket around him. When that didn't stop the shivering, one of the men in the helicopter lit a cigarette and put it in George's mouth. George gladly inhaled the warm smoke despite having quit smoking months earlier.