There I Was...We were on a routine plane guard mission. It was a night mission, very poor visibility with rain. Jeff was in the right pilot seat, Ron in the left pilot seat, I was in the left sonar seat, and Rusty was sleeping on the troop seat.

We had been tasked, after the last fixed wing had trapped, to fly out and identify a surface contact, about 80 NM from the ship. As we were heading out to the vector, the aircraft, without any prior warning, began to violently vibrate. I looked forward from sonar, and could only see a blur of shapes. I then saw the PAX door fly open (both upper and lower). Fearing catastrophic damage if the door/s departed the aircraft and hit the rotor system, I unstrapped and attempted to secure the door. I managed to haul up and close the bottom door. I then got hold of the upper door, and shut. However, it again popped open, and this time it departed the aircraft.

By this time, the vibration/shaking had gotten worse, and I heard a very loud grinding noise from the transmission area. At this point I decided that the aircraft was in peril, and immediately strapped back into sonar, tightly. I then turned around and looked at Rusty. I told him to prepare to ditch, and he gave me a thumbs up. Throughout, I could hear the pilots attempting to trouble shoot, However, they were basically blind, as the instruments were only a blur. Ron expressed fear about flying into the water. I then asked if he intended to ditch. He replied that we did not really have any other choices. I then, by touch, turned my ICS dial to transmit, and began broadcasting maydays. It was at this time that the lower PAX door again sprung open. It then departed the aircraft, and I saw it fly past the sonar window.

At that time, the aircraft began a rapid turn to the right. It seems that the door hit the tail rotor. I punched out the left sonar window, turned around to Rusty and exchanged thumbs up signs, and braced for impact. The sound of the impact was deafening. I really had not been prepared for that kind of noise. We hit the water rapidly yawing to the right, with a pronounced right wing/nose down attitude. In fact, the right side of the cockpit took the brunt of the impact, causing it to collapse. When we hit the water, the force of the impact caused my leg to fly up, and my knee to hit the lip of the pull out table of the sonar console. (The scar is still on my knee!). The aircraft immediately filled with water, and I mean immediately. No chance for a breath of air.

Between the noise of the impact and the sudden pain of my knee, I became a bit disoriented. As I started to panic, I had a very clear image of the helo dunker. At this point, I was filled with calm, as I knew getting out was no sweat! (Thank God for NACCS!) I then grabbed my reference point and pulled myself out the sonar window. What happened next has me puzzled to this day. I remember kicking off the side of the aircraft, gliding and then popping my flotation. However, rather than come to the surface, I came up underneath something, with something on either side of me. Now I panicked. I thought for sure I had screwed the pooch, and had inflated inside the aircraft. Luckily, as I thrashed about for a few seconds, I realized I was under the stub wing, not inside the aircraft. So I reached for the leading edge of the wing, and pulled myself up to the surface. At some point my upper left lobe got punctured, so I only had half my flotation. A beer to the guy who designed the thing, as I floated without any real problems!!

I then yelled that I was on the surface. Ron called back that he was okay, but did not know where Jeff or Rusty were. I then looked at the area around me. I could see a sponson floating some distance away. I also noticed a lot of debris on the surface. The aircraft was gone, save for a large rush of bubbles that soon subsided. By this time Ron and I were together, and calling frantically for Jeff and Rusty. Jeff surfaced a short time later. He said that when the aircraft hit the water, his side of the cockpit collapsed, shoving his head into the instrument panel, and blocking his window. He said that he had egressed through the broken chin bubble, and had nearly become trapped in it.

We then continued yelling for Rusty. By this time, the bubbles had quit coming up. The three of us connected ourselves together, and using my flashlight we kept sweeping the surface, and calling for Rusty. I am not kidding. He was down for a very long time. Several minutes. Suddenly, he exploded to the surface, in a full panic, flailing all over the place. After several minutes he calmed down, and then told us what had happened to him.

When we hit the water, the cargo door had slammed shut. However, he assumed it was still open. So, he unstrapped and pushed himself towards the cargo door, UNAWARE that it was now closed. So, when he hit a wall, he thought the currents had spun him around, and then went back to the other side. He never used hand holds for reference points. Now it gets hairy. Rusty stated that by this time his lungs were on fire. He was completely lost, and confused by all the debris in the after station (raft, sonobuoys, flares, helmet bag, SAR bag, and God knows what else). He simply had no idea where he was. He also knew he was drowning, So, according to him, he decided to end the pain by breathing in water. He quit. Except for one thing, When he breathed in, it was actually air. As incredible as it sounds, he was in a small air pocket. So he breaths, but still has no clue where he was. He is still in very serious trouble. After a short time, the air got stale, so he decided to continue his search for an exit. At this point, he said that he figured he would just start kicking, hoping that he could kick his way through the sheet metal. I think that this is when an Angel took hold of his foot as he was kicking, and directed it to the cargo door handle. Rusty said that as he was kicking, he felt something give. He then reached down, and discovered that he had kicked the door open. He then egressed the aircraft.

However, by this time he was quite deep. No one knows for sure how deep, but the flight surgeon estimated it to be triple digit. At any rate, due to his depth, when he pulled his SAR one inflation, nothing happened. Rusty has no memory of what happened next, except that he next became aware of being held by the rest of us. It is difficult to put into words just how happy we were to all be on the surface together. After what had happened to Jeff and Rusty, and the violence of the impact, it is really amazing that all of us lived to tell the tale. After being in the water for nearly an hour, we were rescued without incident, after advising the rescue helo that we were covered and floating in fuel, and to kindly not use any flares!! We all suffered from rashes due to the fuel. Only a rotor head can nearly drown in a helicopter, and then cheer when another one comes to pick you up!!

Lessons Learned: Rusty was a young kid who rarely took things seriously. When we did egress training, he always screwed around, and cheated by lifting the blindfold. This attitude nearly cost him his life. It is okay to have fun, but when it comes to training, go with the program.
Before pulling your flotation, make damned sure you are clear. I still am not sure how I came up under the stub wing, but I assure you, it was an unpleasant sensation! Be aware of fuel in the water before tossing in a flare!!
Epilogue: Ron and Jeff were awarded Air Medals.
I lived to fly another day.
Rusty never recovered from this incident. A few months later, in Thailand, he overdosed on drugs purchased in town. Only by quick actions by his shipmates did he survive. He was subsequently discharged with a BCD.
As it turned out, we were the last crew to ditch without HEELS or HEEDS (emergency lighting and air). I am sure these would have been of considerable help to Rusty.

Fly safe and come back dry!
AW1(Civ.)Gary Schreffler