Have you been close to death and how did it feel?

[Myrtle]

1968.........off the coast of Vietnam.......landing on a carrier “on the line”.........in the middle of a typhoon.

I am a Navy aircrew member on a C2A.....twin engine turbo-prop with the big guppy belly and rear ramp. We carry high priority passengers and cargo from the Philippines to ‘the line’ (the ‘line’ is the carriers stationed of the coast of Vietnam) to Danang field in-country.

Earlier that day (back at Cubi point in the Philippines) we got word that one of our C2’s was ‘down’ at Danang for electronics failure. It was determined that they needed a number of different components to get the radios and nav gear back up. I’m an electronics technician, so I grab what they need and hop the next C2 heading there. We have to make a stop on one of the carriers before we go to Danang.

It’s a good 4-5 flight to the line from Cubi point. I’m already pretty tired, and as we approach the ship, it’s clear that the weather is not good, as it is a pretty turbulent flight. Now, you gotta understand that the kind of turbulence that I’m talking about is probably something that most folks have never experienced. The C2A is much smaller that a 737 and, as a small aircraft, is significantly affected by turbulence.....Let’s put it this way, if you’re not strapped in, you’d be spread like peanut butter all over the interior of the aircraft. This is primarily a cargo plane....the inside is unfinished with support struts all over the place.....pretty much acting like a strainer should you hit them with any force.

The pilot flying is probably the best pilot in our squadron....as we’re on approach to the ship, it’s very clear that he’s having a hell of a hard time staying on glide path. Oh, did I mention that it’s the middle of the night, and 100% pitch black? FYI, on night ops on a carrier under combat watch the deck is bathed in faint red light.

So, here we go 130 knots or so, trying to catch the hook......the C2 is bouncing around in the turbulence to beat the band. We hit the deck....HARD.....miss the hook (we call it a ‘bolter’) and off we go again, around for another pass. At this point, I’m getting worried....we’re getting low on fuel and we won’t have much left for too many more passes. We’d better catch the hook this next time around.

Around we come again. I’m in the rear jump seat at the right of the C2. It has a window, so as we’re approaching, I can see the dim red glow and the deck. We hit the deck again, and the view is somewhat surreal. It appears that time is slowing down. I can clearly see all the deck crew watching us. It’s like watching the crowd at a tennis match, as their heads all move in-sync as they watch the ball go back and forth, but it’s all happening in slow motion. Their heads swivel from left to right, watching our progress, and BAM....we bolt again as we hit the deck.

I’m 21 years old at the time...have a wife and 2 young children, and now I’m plenty scared! As we’re coming around for the third pass, all of a sudden it hits me..... “We’re going to crash and we’re all going to die”. It wasn’t a feeling of fear or panic......it was a very calm acceptance of the finality and reality of the situation. I can remember kind of mentally ‘shrugging my shoulders’ and just sitting back and waiting for the inevitable. I will tell you that it is truly amazing as to how many different thought can go through one’s mind in such a short period!

In we go for the third pass.........another bolter......another view of the deck crew watching us......Oh, [censored]!!.....How much fuel do we have left? Around we go again...it takes about 4-5 minutes or so to make another approach....... certainly enough time to think about many things.

On the fourth attempt.......We catch the hook! Amazing!!! But, the C2 doesn’t stop bouncing around. It was then that I realized that the carrier was pitching and bobbing like a cork in a maelstrom. As the deck crew took over and tied us down, we could hardly stand upright....it was that rough, but it was a pretty good feeling to be able to feel how rough it was........to be able to feel anything at all!

We refueled, offloaded some cargo, waited for daybreak to catapult of the ship to Danang..... I still had a downed C2 there that I had to fix. During that time, the storm moved off, and when we saw the first wisps of dawn, the sky was reasonably clear. We ‘cat’ off the ship, and off we go to Danang.....a very short hop, no more than a half hour or so. It’s still an eerie pre-dawn when we hit the tarmac at Danang. The field is lit up, and there are lots of clouds and vibrant colors in the sky.....To this day I can still remember how pretty it was. We pull the C2 in our parking spot. In Danang there are ‘revetments’ to park aircraft. Picture a big garage, without a roof, made of walls of poured concrete, with separate spots for each aircraft, and a concrete divider between each spot, to isolate each plane from the one next to it.

We drop the rear ramp on the C2 and begin to unload. It’s still pre-dawn...this is my first trip ‘In-county’ (into the combat zone). By now, it’s been well over 30 hours since I’ve slept. I have two heavy pieces of electronics on my shoulder (probably 120 lbs. or so) as I wander off looking for the other C2 with problems. It’s somewhat quiet, but even at that time of the early morning, there’s still plenty of activity on the field.

All of a sudden, alarm sirens start going off all over the place. I then hear small arms fire, and at the same time everyone starts running everywhere! I’m standing there, with the gear on my shoulders, and I haven’t got the slightest idea where to go or what to do, so I start running to.....where? Beats the hell outta me, but seemed like a good idea at the time, as everyone else was doing it??!! The arms noise is getting more intense....I’m still less than 50 yards from our plane, and all of a sudden there’s a loud “whooshing” noise, followed very shortly by an overwhelming BOOM!

It turns out to be a rocket attack, and a rocket has just hit an A3 parked in the revetment next to our C2. It’s hard to write this because it all happened so fast, yet things appeared to be happening in slow motion! As I didn’t know wtf to do, I still had the gear on my shoulders. I’m a big guy in good shape (6’3” 225 lbs. at the time), so it’s not that I was terribly hindered by the extra weight.....it just never occurred to me to drop the gear and run for the nearest cover. OK...now I’m running to......btf outta me where......I see a sandbagged open shelter, head towards that, and as I’m ready to get in, the blast from the exploding A3 catches me, and I go ass-over-tea-kettle into the bunker....still carrying the gear, but upside down now, landing on my head. I wrenched my neck pretty good, and it later turned out that I also tore my left rotator cup.

I’m now in the hole with other guys who know what is going on. It’s clear we’re under attack, and no-one seems to be terribly concerned about it......everyone is somewhat nonchalant about it! OK....I follow suit.

In a while, the all-clear siren sounds, and we all go back to our business. I’m now beyond tired. I find the C2. It takes about 2 hours to r&r the gear. I check out the systems and they’re all now working, so....mission accomplished.

Our C2 was not damaged at all in the attack, so we prep it to get out of there. Before we can, all of us (enlisted men, that is) get commandeered to help unload a big cargo plane that just pulled in........Oh, for joy! It’s now mid-morning......over 100 degrees on the field, I still have my full flight suit on.....It’s freakin HOT!!! By the time we unload the plane, my flight suit is totally soaked.

We are then kicked free, get back to our C2 and get the hell out of there. Once we get to altitude, I fall into a deep sleep....totally exhausted. I wake up a bit later, pull out a cigarette, start to light it up and.........aarrrgghhhh!!! I can’t inhale!! Long story short.......instant pneumonia!! Off duty for almost 2 weeks........was absolutely miserable......If not for the apricot brandy that a friend slipped me in hospital, I don’t know what I would have done! By the way, it didn’t take very long for me to find out that the rocket attack at Danang that I had just experienced was the opening salvo of the Tet offensive......lucky me.......being able to get outta there before the [censored] REALLY hit the fan!

Anyhow, I guess that’s my “near-death” experience. At the time, it didn’t seem like that big a deal....maybe it really wasn’t. I look back at it now, and the most vivid memory of it all was bouncing of that deck, and watching the deck crew watch us bolting....all bathed in that eerie red light. It’s strange the things that stay with you..........

Why did I bother posting this today? I just happened to see the topic in this string, read the other posts and it got me thinking about things, as today is my birthday, and I guess we all have the right to reflect upon this kind of stuff on our birthday.

Today is Tomorrow’s Yesterday.........We can never have Yesterday back.......Live Today to its Fullest.........


Sorry if it’s trite........It’s how I’m feeling at the moment.

Myrt..........

p.s. Both our pilot and my fellow crew member were later killed in a crash as they attempted a carried landing.....One of the props came off during approach and sliced the fuselage in half....all within site of the flight deck. I still think about them ..........May they rest in peace.

[daveymck]

Great story, but all this time I thought you were female.

[thatpfunk]

fwiw, this is an internet forum and all, but thank you. seriously.

[Shajen]

WOW.

[Myrtle]

Davey,

Here's where "Myrtle" comes from........

Back in the mid nineties, when I started playing seriously, my then 4 year old daughter bought me a small, green, Japanese 'good luck' turtle to keep in my pocket whenever I played.

The turtle ended up being hot glued on top of a small rock to use as a card-weight/protector at the table. I still use it whenever I play live.

Of course, it had to be named, and daughter came up with.......

.....Myrtle the Turtle, (or as they say in da Bronx...Moitle da Toitle).

I adopted that name when I started playing online, and use it here as my ID.

[Jake (The Snake)]

[ QUOTE ]
But thats how it feeled when I was 12.

[/ QUOTE ]

So you're 12 and a half now?






Sorry I couldn't resist. I'm sure it was very traumatic.

[bholdr]

I've been involved in several minor car accidents that i'm sure weren't as close to fatal as i remember them. and once i got hit with 220 volts on one hand and the other hand in a stainless steel sink full of water. not pleasent, ut an electrictian i know says it wouldn't have killed me.

so i geuss i've only almost died once:


I was 19- snowboarding in the alpental backcountry at snoqualmie pass, washington. I know the area well, and am very comfortable picking my way down icy 50 degree pitches, etc. the friends i was with were both experienced mountanieers, we had all the proper gear; peeps, shovels,
radios, etc. what i didn't have is an ice axe an ice axe and crampons, but we were going downhill, right?

heh. wrong.

the fog rolled in for just long enough for us to take a wrong turn, and then, like it was toying with us, it lifted to reveal our prediciment. we were perched in a narrow gap between ridges, on a 40 degree pitch. we couldn't see the transition out of the drainage, but we could see the tops of trees (the area hasn't been logged for 60 years, so that's not a good sign.) and jagged rocks about 100 feet below. no screwing around, now, it's you-fall-you-die.

My buddy scott, the most experienced of our trio says: "i've been here before, there's a shelf to the right that you can hop to and traverse on, then it's an easy ride out. I'll go and see if we can get there from here."

two minutes later he'd ridden about 40 feet and could see around the bend: "it's there, no problem! one at a time guys, becons on!" and he dissapears around the corner.

Steve and i start inching that way- the snow under our feet is sluffing away as we ride and grabbing my board and his skis, trying to pull us over the edge. i make progress by taking the handle off of my shovel and using it as an impromptu ice axe, anchoring each few feet that i slide. This takes about ten minutes, and thankfully, the activity has kept my mind off of those rocks. then scott appears below: "the shelf's gone!"

me: "what the fu** do you mean it's gone?!"
scott: "it slid as i rode it!"
me: "so now what?"
scott: "i don't know i can't see"
steve: "brian, do you have a ciggerette?"
me "shut the fu** up steve!"
scott: "maybe you can jump it! it's only forty feet or so!"
steve "onto rocks!"
scott "i can't see! want me to call patrol?"
me: "what the hell are they gonna do?"
steve: "i could really use a smoke"

now comes the time to think about my mortality. we stand there, getting tired, as just holding our position is strenous. it's gonna get dark in an hour, but we probably can't hang on anyway. sh**.

i think: 'do i believe in god?'
i answer my own question: 'no.'
this is when i knew i was in trouble- i rarely ever think about things like that.

scott's climbing a little pinnicle to try to get a look at our position, steve looks like he's gonna cry, i'm happy that i took a dump a couple of hours previously- it was really sh** yer pants time. we try to edge our way back up, but it's one foot up, slide down two. hmm.

***

we were up there for what felt like hours, though in retrospect it was probably only about forty minutes. a looooongg forty, though. i had some very uncomfortable thoughts, the kind that only strike you when death is present- yours or that of someone you love. i had run out of adreniline and was starting to feel pretty rotten about the whole thing, queationing my abilities, our judgment, even my love for the sport. i almost started praying, like a doomed man does, thinking about making deals with the god i didn't believe in...

***

but i ran out of time. the sun went over the horizon, which means the run would be freezing up. steve looked at me and said "lets ride the shelf anyway" i say "ok you first" (which was dumb, 'cause whoever went first would get whatever was left of the rideable surface). He goes, i follow about ten seconds later, just in time to see him fall off. without thinking about it i went about ten feet farther and jumped- there wasn't really anywhere else to go and i must of thought that i could have helped him, though i don't know why.

it was about a thirty foot drop. we landed in neck-deep powder, in (miracously?) the only area without big pointy rocks. steve landed head first, and when i managed to figure out what was going on, his feet were kicking in the air about five feet away from me, as he shimied loose, laughing like a fool. i was too, i think, high from the adreniline rush of a lifetime (i thought i was spent).

we had our smoke and traversed back to the lodge. the next day (with ice axes, tele skis, and crampons) we returned to the same spot- only to see the "DANGER- CLIFFS!" sign that the fog had obscured. sometimes climbers/ skiers/ etc feel that the mountain that they're on has a will of it's own, and tries to lure them to their deaths. i don't believe in that crap, but i was certianly spooked.

***

and here's something really creepy about that mountain: there is a for-real no-sh** indian burial ground up there. a local climber got lost up there last year- he was missing for three days and lost both feet to frostbite- he reported that in his delirium a native wrapped in furs had hounded his steps, telling him to give up, that he was dead already, that he shouldn't have come there.

they found footprints that followed his track. (makes me shudder when i think of it)

[astroglide]

[ QUOTE ]
they found footprints that followed his track. (makes me shudder when i think of it)

[/ QUOTE ]

i bet it was dimebag darrel!

[ilya]

I almost died from internal blood loss once as a result of a surgery [censored]-up. This was after they'd let me out of the hospital. I'm sitting on the couch in my living room and I go to sit up and suddenly I get this horrible pain on my right side. It hurt a lot for a couple minutes, and felt really hot. I'm not sure why but I immediately *knew* that it was life-threatening. Anyway, I puked when trying to get up and had to sit back down and wait for the ambulance to arrive. The pain stopped after a couple minutes, I guess because I had lost too much blood. All the color drained from my fingernails and lips and eyes; I looked fvcking creepy. But I was neither scared nor upset. On the contrary, I felt very calm and relaxed. I think it must have been all the blood loss. When the paramedics got there, they freaked out a little because I had no measurable blood pressure, but I was like, 'whatevah!'
I guess my point is that if you're gonna die, you could do a lot worse than blood loss.

[InchoateHand]

Depends. Once it felt not so good. Another time it felt very wonderful, in a sleepy sort of way. At least until the Narcan.