The Helo-Dunker from Hell

Where:

This story takes place at the Naval Air Station – Pensacola, Florida.  Yes, the same one made famous in the Richard Gere movie, ‘Officer and a Gentlemen’.  Except I wasn’t there for Naval Flight Officer School.  I was there for the enlisted version, Naval Aircrewman Candidate School. (little side note, the Richard Gere movie was actually filmed in Washington State.  They wouldn’t let them on the base.  That’s why the whole movie has that gloomy vs sunny look)

I won’t lie, NAS Pensacola was a great base to train on.  It’s located in the panhandle of Florida, has pristine white-sand beaches, blue surf, and tan women.  It rocked.  It was also the main location for Naval flight officer training and enlisted aircrew training.  For the officers it was like a second boot camp.  Discipline was strict and they got hazed mercilessly by the instructors. 

For us enlisted it was a lot better.  We weren’t boots.  We were free to do what we liked when the training day was over and we had weekends off.  That’s not to say the training was easy.  It wasn’t.  But the base was small and quiet, the weather was great, and did I mention the beaches?

What:

I was there for Naval Aircrewman Candidate School.  A school designed to give Aircrew volunteers (they only took volunteers) the basic skills needed to operate in and around Naval aircraft.  It was a demanding school with long hot runs up and down the sea wall, obstacle courses, pool training and of course the infamous helo dunker.

The Helo Dunker;

The subject of this story, the dunker, was a long, large metal tube (about fifteen feet in length) designed to mimic the inside of a CH-46 troop transport helicopter.  Inside were about eight rows of seats facing forward.  Each row had a window next to it and there was an open main door on the right side of the tube.  The whole thing was suspended by cables from the ceiling of a giant indoor pool.  Steps from poolside lead up to a platform from which you could enter the dunker.  Its purpose was to teach aircrew how to escape from a helicopter which had ditched or crashed into the ocean.

The helo dunker is not to be confused with the dilbert dunker, again made famous in ‘Officer and a Gentlemen’.  The dilbert dunker simulated a fighter jet cockpit, which crashed into the sea.  It was a single seat inside of a cut down cockpit.  The whole thing is on a track that leads straight down into the pool.  The track then turns the dilbert dunker  upside down while underwater. 

It sounds bad.  But it isn’t.  There’s only one way out of the dilbert and once you’re out you just follow the rail to the surface.  You can’t screw it up.  Despite what you see in the movie, the worst thing that can happen in the dilbert is water shoots straight up your nose.  That’s it.  I know because I went through the dilbert at a different base for a special project.

The helo dunker was a different animal completely.  It was a device straight from hell. 

The helo dunker was dropped into the deep end of the pool where it would submerge completely.  Then as it sank, it could be rotated, via the cables, to the right or left or upside down.  Once submerged and rotated, all the trainees inside had to extract themselves and find their way to the surface.

To exit the dunker you had two options.  The first was to exit out the window next to your seat.  The other option was to work your way to and out the main door. 

The window was by far the easier of the two, (unless you got the seat right next to the door).  Otherwise if you were going out the door you would have to fight your way over about eight other guys all trying desperately to get out as well.  Kicks to the head were common.

To complicate matters, you were not doing this dressed in a bathing suit.  Oh, no.  They had you completely geared up.  You went in wearing a full flight suit, gloves, mid-calf leather boots with steel toes, a flight helmet and an SV-2 survival vest.

[A note on the SV-2.  The first day we got to the pool to start drown proofing courses the instructors showed us the vests.  They sat the class down on metal bleachers in front of the pool.  The SV-2 vests were all hanging on hooks on a wall to our right.

An instructor came out and pulled one off the wall and carried it in front of us.  “Class!” he said. 

“This is the SV-2 survival vest which you will be wearing during your training.” 

“All of the survival gear has been removed and replaced with wooden blocks in each of the vests’ cargo pockets.”

“Now I know all you swinging dicks have heard that these wood blocks are saturated with water and don’t float.  I’m here to tell you that’s BULLSHIT.”

“These vests float!  And I’m going to prove it to you!”

He then threw the vest into the pool.  It sat there on the surface for all of about, oh… one second …then went straight to the bottom like a rock.  The instructor stood there, legs braced, hands on hips staring into the pool.

He then turned around and yelled, “Well all the other ones float.  Now go grab one and get in!” … Classic.       (To this day I don’t know if they were playing a joke or if he really thought it would float.)]

 

My Turn in the Barrel;

After about a week of drown proofing it was time to take our test in the helo dunker.

The test consisted of four evolutions. 

Round One;

In the first evolution the trainees filled the dunker, took a seat, and rode it down.  Once it stopped, everyone went out the window closest to them then swam to the surface.  Not bad, hard to screw up.  About the worst thing that could happen was if the safety diver (who was inside with you) gave you a face full of water.  If he saw you trying to take in a huge breath right before you sank under the surface, he’d splash water right in your face so you’d suck it in instead of O2.  They didn’t do it to be cruel.  They expected you to sit there calmly and ride it down.  This was there way of reinforcing that lesson.

Round Two;

Second evolution, was identical to the first except…yup, everyone had to go out the main door instead of the window.  Now things were starting to get dicey.  Eight guys, or thereabouts, all trying to get out one door before their air ran out.  It could get pretty wild. Kicks to the head, shoved this way and that.  A couple guys had trouble making it to the surface before sucking in water.  One guy in particular, a Marine sergeant I’ll call Sgt.-W was really having issues.

Round Three;

Now things got very interesting.  Everybody filed in and took their seats.  The instructions for this evolution were again to go out the window next to you.  Easy, except that you had to do this with the visor on your flight helmet down.  The visor which the instructors had spray painted black!

This was done, again not out of cruelty, but to train you for a night crash.

Once you were out, you still couldn’t see.  You also didn’t know if the dunker was tilted to the left, the right, or upside down when you exited.  In short, you had no idea if you were pointed up, down, or sideways.  You didn’t know which way to swim to the surface.

However, our ever knowledgeable instructors had drilled us on how to solve this puzzle.  You made your body long and rigid then waited.  Your flight boots were leather with steel toes.  Your helmet was foam padding and plastic.  Meaning your feet were a lot heavier than your head.  As you floated in the water, your body would slowly, ever so slowly, orientate itself with your feet down and your head up. 

If you were running short on air when you got out, this could be a torturous wait.  The other disconcerting thing was you didn’t know how far it was to the surface.  If you were claustrophobic or let your fears get the better of you, you were going to have a very bad day.

Even though the windows were right next to us, several trainees got disoriented.  I was watching from the side of the giant pool as I waited my turn.  A couple guys were trying to bash their heads through steel plating that definitely was not a window.  The divers had to pull them out.  Sgt. W was one of them.  He had quite a bit of water in his lungs that he coughed out.

Round Four;

Now for the final round.  You filed in took your seat and strapped in.  The blacked out visor was again down so you couldn’t see.  The safety diver splashed water in your faces as the dunker slowly sunk and rolled over.  You could feel the water rising up over your body and head as you went down and this time it was everyone out the main door.

No window for you.

This sucked.  You had to memorize your position in the dunker.  Place a hand on something, usually the seat in front of you, so you could maintain a mental anchor point.  Then climb over the correct number of seats, which you had counted beforehand, until you were at the door.  Then hands on the door and a big push outside.

At this point you hoped you had enough air left to figure out which way was up.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  If you were out and waiting to point head-up you were lucky.  Because getting to the door with eight other guys all trying to do the same thing, in the blind, was a royal pain in the ass.  People were climbing over you, kicking you with steel toed boots, pulling and pushing you.  If you could keep your head and your orientation with all this going on it was a miracle.  And the farther back you were in the dunker the harder it was.

Again I was watching from the top of the pool.  Surprisingly, most of the guys made it out without tooooo much trouble.  By now you’d had several turns and most guys were getting the hang of it.  Which was the point.  But a few still had problems.  Including Sgt. W.  Once again the divers had to pull him out. Pump his lungs out and stand him up.

Then it was my turn.  I got lucky.  I was only one seat back from the door.  They dropped the dunker and it started to sink.  I popped my seat belt and held myself in the seat till the dunker stopped.  One seat over and out.  Big push.  Feet sank down and up I swam.  Piece of cake and I was done!

Or so I thought.

We all climbed out.  Then the instructors called out the failed seat numbers.  They called mine with the comment, “early release”.  What the?!?!  Ok, I kept my mouth shut and lined up for a re-test.  My whole military training strategy to date could be summed up in three words.  ‘Under-the-Radar’.  Keep your mouth shut.  Do what your asked as fast and as well as you could and DON’T attract attention.  So I did just that.

I lined up with the others for scenario four again.  Sgt. W was with us.  He was visibly shaking at this point.  And who could blame him.  The dude had just had his lungs pumped out three times.

They called out our seat assignments.  I hit the jackpot.  I had the seat right next to the door.  Yes, oh yes there is a God.

We filed in sat down, strapped in and rode that bitch down.  I popped the safety harness as we sank then clamped my hands down on the seat to hold my ass firmly in.  The dunker sank, rolled and stopped.  I still didn’t let go.  I kept my ass glued to the seat for a good five count.  Guys were climbing over me but it didn’t matter.  I knew right where I was and I was going to make the most of this gift.  Yeah, I dare you to call ‘early release’ on me this time.

So out I went.  Feet down, head up.  Swim to the surface and I’m gold.  I climbed out and the instructor looked at me called my number and said, “Early release, fail.”     MOTHER FUCKER!!!

Calming myself, I asked, “Excuse me sir but what do you mean?”

“You popped your seatbelt early again recruit.”

Oh shit.

“Get back in line for a final retest.”

This was it.  Do or die.  There would be no more chances and I’d just blown my golden ticket.  Also in line with me were a couple other guys and, you guessed it, Sgt.  W. 

Sgt.  W had again become disorientated in the dunker.  He’d lost his anchor point then lost track of where the door was.  The divers pulled him out as he tried to ram a hole through the metal skin of the dunker with his head.  Pump out lungs, prop him up and back you go.

Sgt. W was in front of me in line.  They ordered us to ascend the platform and take our seats.  And I’d got a seat in the back.

The Sgt. was shaking violently at this point and was so weak he had to use his arms to lift his legs up each step.  But he was a Marine and a tough one.  He never complained.  He never bitched.  He just sucked it up and forced himself up the platform.

Sgt. W had just reached the top when a voice came over the loud speaker.  It said, “Gentlemen, the cables on the dunker are not working properly.  We have to shut it down for the day.”

The look of relief on the Sgt.’s face was visible as he sank to the ground.  The dead men walking had been given a reprieve.  And they passed us all without having to retest.

To this day I believe there was nothing wrong with the dunker.  I think they liked Sgt. W’s ‘Charlie Mike’ attitude (that’s Continue Mission for you civilians) and didn’t want to lose a good Marine.

That night, Pat, Jay and I went to the Enlisted Club on base.  Sgt. W was already there.  He was sitting at the bar and had at least eight shots of whiskey lined up in front of him.  We slapped him on the back and he grinned up at us.

[Pat, Jay and I all enlisted on the same day, April 1^st.  Yes April Fool’s Day.  But Pat was from Boston.  Jay was from North Carolina and none of us knew each other prior to boot camp.  Not only did we enlist on the same day but we’d all signed up for the exact same training pipeline.  Boot camp in San Diego, Russian Language in Monterey, Crypto in Texas, then on to Aircrew Training at Pensacola.  Not surprisingly, we were shipmates and pretty tight by the time we got to NAS Pensacola.  After Pensacola we went to Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape, or SERE, training in the mountains outside San Diego.  But that’s another story….]

Post Script:

Today’s dunker;  I went looking for a photo of the dunker to include with this story.  I found many but since I went through they’ve changed it.  It’s now a kinder gentler George Bush style dunker.

It’s now about half the size, the windows are huge, it has bench seats facing in, and the door is right in the middle.  Also the entire back half is open, instead of closed in, making for easier extracts.  Somebody probably almost drowned in the old beast and forced some changes for the new guys. ... lucky SOBs!