Trigger warning – this blog post describes the death of a shipmate on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. It doesn’t contain specific details, but it may trigger flashbacks for some—I hope not. My intent is to share with you an experience that I hope no one will ever have to face. But for those of us who served in the military, it happens.
Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)
- Who said, “The main thing is to keep ‘the main thing’ the main thing.”?
- In what movie (and who said) the following, “Say hello to my little friend.”?
- What song (and who sang it) do we find the following lyrics?
So I went to the corner
Just to ease my pains
Yeah, just to ease my pains
I got troubles, whoa-oh
I got worries, whoa-oh
I came home again
This has been a difficult post to write. To tell you the truth, I started to write it several times over the past few months, but backed off for various reasons. One of which is our current COVID-19 crisis. My intent of “A Veteran’s Journey” blog is to always keep a positive outlook on life.
But, I needed to finish this one. Something recently happened that brought this subject closer to home. Life is precious. You just never know…
Most of us have experienced death at one time or another during our lives. It may have been a loved one or it may have been a close friend. For us veterans, we may have experienced death during our tour of duty.
I don’t think we get to choose when or where—that’s left to a higher authority. But after losing someone close, we must find a way to keep moving forward.
The Most Dangerous Job?
It’s been said that “working on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier is the most dangerous job in the world.” That may be true, but I think it depends on your personal perspective. I’d venture to guess that soldiers facing an enemy on the battlefield, shooting at you with an intent to kill, or hunkering down in a foxhole, trying to avoid an artillery barrage, may beg to differ.
There’s an old adage, “Whether active duty, discharged, retired, or reserve, a Veteran is someone who at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to The United States of America for an amount of up to, and including, their life.” To me, THAT.IS.HONOR.
So, in my humble opinion, it doesn’t matter if you’re Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, or Coast Guard. When you sign on that dotted line, you join an elite brotherhood, knowing that your life may be on the line.
Westpac ‘75
My second duty station was USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63 (my first was NAS Agana, Guam). I was a third-class petty officer assigned to the V-1 Division and worked on the flight deck in Crash & Salvage. During Westpac ’75, we lost three sailors. I don’t know the specifics of two, but let me tell you about the one that happened on the flight deck.
Our overseas home port was PI (Philippine Islands). We were in and out of PI seven times in 1975. The Vietnam War has “officially” ended a few months earlier, but we were still on alert during our deployment. On this particular trip, Kitty Hawk headed out to sea for a two week exercise—standard at sea time for us.
(Click to enlarge)
The first aircraft off the deck for flight ops was the “plane guard” helicopter from the HS-8 (“Eightballers”) squadron. We had a 2-man Crash tractor manned on the flight deck, which was required for pre-launch. The rest of the Crash crew were in the Crash compartment on the starboard side of the island or standing outside shooting the breeze, waiting for flight ops to begin.
Crash to the Flight Deck!
Suddenly, the Air Boss announced over the 5MC (flight deck PA system), “Crash to the flight deck! Crash to the flight deck!” We all hauled butt out onto the deck; all we could see was a helicopter trying to take off. It took a couple of seconds to realize what happened.
The starboard landing gear had collapsed and one of the helo ground crew was dangling from the wheel well. The main wheel tie-down chains had been removed, but the helo was still attached to the deck by the tail wheel tie-down. The pilot was hovering over the deck at about six inches. The Plane Captain was directing the pilot to keep steady, but it was tough since the helo was still chained to the deck.
My pal, Buddy Laney, was suited up on the back of the Crash tractor and witnessed it all. He told me later that it was one of the most harrowing experiences in his life, being so close to a killer helo and not being able to do anything about it. He said his training kicked in and they were preparing for the worst—a crash on the flight deck.
Several of us grabbed a rescue stretcher and dunked down, inching closer to the helo. About that time, the helo dropped the ground crew member. We grabbed his legs and pulled him out of range of those dangerous rotors. Yes, we were under the spinning rotors.
The flight deck medic was right there with us trying to save him, but this shipmate was long gone. We put him into the stretcher and carried him over to the #2 elevator where he was lowered down to the hangar deck and rushed to Sickbay.
Meanwhile, the helo was still hovering just a few inches off the ground. I heard that our Crash LPO Jeff Atteberry was on his stomach crawling toward the helo. The only way this thing could end safely was to release the chain. When Jeff reached the tie-down, the Plane Captain saw what he was doing and helped the pilot keep the helo steady. Once released, the pilot flew off and everyone on the flight deck breathed a sigh of relief.
Recovery & Salvage
We weren’t done yet—the second part of our name was “Salvage.” We had to figure out how to get the helo and its crew safely back on board. Fortunately, part of our Crash arsenal included a “crash dolly,” a heavy metal dolly about three feet by four feet with four heavy rubber wheels. Several mattresses were brought up from below decks and tied to the crash dolly. We then anchored it to the flight deck in the recovery area using a half dozen tie-down chains.
In order to get the helo safely back onto the flight deck, a squadron Plane Captain served as the director—standard operating procedure. We parked a tow tractor in front of him so that if something happened, he could at least duck down behind the tractor. We moved all nearby aircraft to the aft part of the flight deck—no need destroying or damaging aircraft if it could be helped.
(Click to enlarge)
We also had the Crash truck parked on the starboard side with a full crew. Steve Deaver, a big strong Texan who had recently joined Crash in the Philippines, was fully suited up and standing on the back of the crash truck, ready to roll. I know his heart was pumping.
All unnecessary personnel were cleared off the flight deck. V-1 Division and squadron personnel were in the catwalks standing by with fire hoses in the event of an all-out crash and subsequent fire(s).
As the helo approached, the Plane Captain directed him slowly over the flight deck. The pilot hovered a few feet over the deck to let the crew and passengers jump down.
The pilot knew what needed to be done, but it took him three times to ease down before he could place the crippled starboard wheel safely onto the crash dolly. I can’t say enough about the teamwork between the Plane Captain and the pilot. Both knew what could happen.
We had placed enough mattress pads on the dolly so that when the helo landed, it would be level. Once the full weight of the helo was down, he kept the rotors going until the blue shirts and helo crew could tie the helo down to the flight deck. When that was done, the pilot cut power to the engines. He was safe, we were safe, and there is a God.
R.I.P. We Have the Watch
That was one of the scariest and most challenging times in the Navy. But we cannot forget that we lost a shipmate. He was pronounced DOA when he got to Sickbay.
From what we heard, he was removing the landing gear safety pins, something always done before a launch. The port side pin came out fine, but the starboard side would not budge. He started banging on the pin. It came out all right, but when it did, the wheel collapsed. He was inside the wheel well, so he was caught by the weight of the helo.
At the time all this happened, I didn’t feel any emotions, just adrenaline, and my training kicking in. You bet, my heart was racing; I think everyone felt the same. I’ll be honest though, when it was all over, I had to find a quiet place for a bit to decompress. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one that day.
I’ve often thought about that airman over the years. The flight deck is a dangerous and sometimes unforgiving place to work. He was just doing his job, like me and all the others on the flight deck. It could’ve been any of us.
I thank the good Lord for that Plane Captain and the helo pilot that kept the aircraft in the air and steady, so we could do our jobs. We all worked together as a team with men we didn’t know, but trusted. That’s what you do in the military.
I didn’t know AMS3 Andrew J. Wantulok, but his death on September 23, 1975 affected me personally.
This event took place almost 45 years ago and the description may be a little fuzzy. But I’m fairly certain it is accurate.
Gone in an Instant
A month ago, my wife’s cousin was killed while riding his bike. He had been an avid cyclist for most of his life and traveled the world over with his wife and family. He easily had 100,000 miles of cycling experience under his belt. He was on an early evening ride, close to his home in Chico, California, when he was hit by an SUV. We don’t know the details, but he was gone in an instant. He and his wife had just visited us in Florida a year earlier on their way to their new home and their new life. Dave had recently retired at age 65.
You never know when your time is up. Death leaves an impression that you carry with you throughout your life. How can it not? I’ve often said that “death is part of life’s journey,” and I truly believe that. But still… sometimes it hits close to home.
Sometimes I think about the “what if…” I mean, am I the only that does that? What if the helo had hit the deck, crashed, and sent shrapnel flying all around. There’s not a lot of room on the flight deck and plenty of personnel around. Then… I remind myself that it did not happen. That keeps me from wandering down a potentially dangerous path.
I’ve been married for almost 40 years to the love of my life, with two wonderful kids, and two energetic grandkids. I worry about them more than myself. I think most parents and grandparents do. Don’t get me wrong, I want to live long and prosper.
My first two “long life” goals are to live longer than my dad (68) and my mom (72). I think I’ll make it. Both of them died of smoking-related cancers. I don’t smoke.
My next “long life” goal is to live long enough to see my daughter’s third grandchild graduate from college. While she’s married to a wonderful man, they don’t have any kids yet. <grin on>I’ve got my fingers crossed.<grin off> And before you ask, yes, she’s heard me say that before.
Lofty goals? Absolutely, but certainly doable. Right now, I’m like most of you—taking necessary precautions to avoid the coronavirus. That’s my day-to-day goal. So far, so good.
Stay safe, my friends.
Until we meet again,
Andy
Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.
Previous blogs mentioned in this post:
Answers
- Stephen Covey.
- Scarface (1983); Tony Montana (Al Pacino).
- You Were on my Mind (1965), We Five; written by Sylvia Fricker
As always, I appreciate your blog Andy. I know we have discussed this previously, but I relived that day as I read. I was Air Transfer Officer while you were crash and smash. That helo had the Admiral onboard. As ATO one of my jobs was scheduling helo rides for those needing it. So ATO was “working” that flight…walked him out, saluted, etc. I distinctly remember the crewman banging away with what I think was a chock. When that pin came free, the helo tilted and the blades came down so close to the deck. I learned later that had the blades hit the deck many on flight deck would have been killed. So many thanks to that pilot. When the helo returned and settled on your padded dolly, and was secured the Returning Admiral’s ask me “how is he?” and I had to tell the Admiral that he had died. As ATO, as you know, I scheduled the C-1, and the next day Andy Wantulok began his trip home. RIP Ship mate. Thank you “Chet” for your writing style and your ability to bring these long ago memories back.
Thanks, Gordon. That means a lot. I know a lot of guys who were in the area that day and are thankful it wasn’t any worse.
I remember this incident on the flight deck . I was coming out from the starboard side of the island coming from the weather office to take a wx observation on the angle deck . I was instructed to go back into island. Once back in weather office, the news of the accident then came down. This was one of several incidents that occurred during the ‘75 cruise.
I’m not sure when the rest of the ship found out, but I know word spreads quickly. You’re right, there were others. I remember a helo going into the drink, one or two F-4s having to punch out. I know we lost 3 shipmates on that cruise, too.