Experience Friday: The Accident Part 1

 

The Accident: Part 1

USS Scott DDG-995 January 1992

 

I really have never put this down. I have told people about the accident, but I have never really put down my thoughts. This night my Naval career was turned upside down. The day started off fantastic. We had liberty in Hurgada, Egypt. The dates for everything is lost to the ages; I just know it was around January 9.

USS Scott was deployed on Med 1-92. We were enforcing UN sanctions against Iraq in the Red Sea. For me, it was my first Med Cruise. We were operating near the mouth of the Gulf of Aqaba. Every 14 days, we were in port Hurgada Egypt, so January 9 for the accident is very possible.

The ship was having a party at one of the local hotels. There was food all day long and, of course, plenty to drink. I had decided not to partake much in drinking, kind of odd. As the day turned into the night, a group wanted to ride across town to go to a Disco. I had been there the night before, so I knew where it was. I also planned to make a phone call home around 3am local to catch my wife at home.

An odd thing the drivers did in town was driving without their headlights on. They drove with the parking lights on, and if it was dark, they would flash their brights at the oncoming cars.

The city of Hurghada, Egypt, is located on the Red Sea. It sits on a bump in the coastline and has a set of barrier islands guarding it against the open water. It is known in Europe for its diving and pleasant climate. As a matter of fact, there were a good many Germans there when we were on liberty. Our first stop was on Christmas day, 1991. We came across a German Christmas party at one fo the Hotels. They were very friendly and invited us to enjoy with them

The city is a mixture of tourist areas and areas for the locals. The hotels are mainly located on the coast, and all were on the beach. The city hugs the coast, and there are some roads through the desert that make the north-south trip faster. Our party was at the Royal Sonesta Hotel, probably gone now. It was south of the main city.

So, back to the story. I and two other crewmembers get into a cab and start to head north. Meanwhile, a taxi with 4 other shipmates was headed south. We Went off into the night. Soon we passed a shell gas station. The sailor sitting behind me said, “Hey, I wonder if my shell card will work there.” We had a laugh at that.

Our taxi was a small car, about the size of a Subaru wagon. It was a tight squeeze for us all. I am 6’5”, the other two guys were easily 6’-2 each. The cabs did not have seat belts, a no-no in the Navy. We had no other way around town, so we took the cabs.

The road we were on looked reasonably new. It was a blacktop 4 lane divided highway. We here in the states know how to drive on those, I am sure. We were also outside the central city, so it was pretty dark. I see a car coming toward us.
I ask the driver, “You see that guy?”

“Oh yes, I see him, my friend,” he replies. Everybody is their friend.

The cabs continue on their paths. Each flashing their lights, but neither moving. My exact words are lost to me, but I imagine I was not too polite. There was the sound of tires squealing just before impact, and our driver did swerve. The two cabs impacted each on the driver's side.

I have no idea how long I was out, but I could taste blood when I came to. I sniffed the air for fire; there was none. I tried to move, but my left leg was not having any of it. I ran through my first aid checklist in my head. I could breathe, I was bleeding, my left leg was immobile, my other limbs worked, and there was no fire. OK, so I know, do not move more than I have to. Wait for medical personnel to arrive.

While I am doing this, I know of nothing that is happening to anyone else. The two sailors in my car are both hurt. One has dislocated ribs, while the other looked like he had gone 5 rounds with Mike Tyson. In the other vehicle, one sailor is unhurt. He sprints to the ship's party about a ½ mile away. I learned this information from the JAG investigation held afterward and my speaking with some crew members after the fact.

The sailor who went for help came running into the party yelling Hot Shots Down. Our ship was known as the Hot Shot in the US Navy. We were very proud of that too. Luck was on our side because the ship's Corpsman was present that day. He had also brought his trauma kit with him, which he said he never did that before.

While that is happening, I am in the cab holding the steering wheel with my left hand to take the pressure off my left hip. Out of the might, a few Egyptians try to get me out of the cab. I think to myself, F NO! I know not to “move” until a trained medical person comes. So, I start cursing and swinging at them. ” Leave me the F along. Get the F out”

I heard after the group of guys left me that a single Egyptian came out fo nowhere, shouting Arabic. He came toward me, and I punched him square in the chest. Knocked him a could feet backward. He stood and said something in Arabic and walked off. The guy with the bad ribs told me that in the hospital.

Our Corpsman arrived and began to help. He improvised a C-collar and bandaged my head. They also broke a chair to make an improvised backboard to get me out of the car. I am sure I passed out again sometime because it seemed only a few minutes before I heard our helo landing. They load me into a truck and drive me slowly to the helo after it landed.

They took me to the USNS John Lenthall, who was in port with us as well. Now, this is crazy. I remember when being put on board the helo, I thought to myself, “Nice, I get my first ride in the chopper.”

I wake up on the John Lenthall and see I am hooked up to am IV. They also had cut all my clothes off. Luckily there is a beautiful warm blanket on me. I hear the Doctor say, “Hit him again with the morphine.”

The assembled people are talking about getting me to a hospital in Saudi Arabia, Tabuk. That is 185 miles as the helo flies, but they would need to tank on the flight over.

Here is a crazy thing. The medical offices on the Lenthall are not on the same deck as their flight deck. So, they had to put me in an elevator to get my back up to the flight deck. To do this, they had to stand the backboard up I am strapped to. That was fun.

I’m loaded into another helo, along with a Navy Doctor, and off we go. Like I said, we have to refuel, so along the way, we stop on another Navy ship. I was getting freezing by now and hungry. Bening on Scott’s Helo Refueling crew, I ask if I can see the sample too. The crew member in the back laughed at me and told me to trust the pilot. Off we go again.

Somewhere over the desert, I ask the crew member, “What do I do if I have to pee?”

He holds up a bag with a flattened sponge in it. It has a “tube” portion where you insert your manhood. The problem is I am doing this with an IV in one arm and flat on my back. I end up partially pissing on myself. It was nice and warm for a moment. I hand the bag to the crewmember who promptly tosses it out the window. Imagine the poor bedouin whose tent that landed on.

There is more to this story, so I will leave this hear and ring out part two next Friday.  I have been slowly putting a timeline on this event. I base most of the dates on a couple sporting events that happened around this time, the AFC Championship Game and the Super bowl. I was able to call home during the AFC game when I made it to Germany. And I arrived back in the US the day before the Sper Bowl.