In The News
Night Vision recently won a contract to supply night vision equipment to Coast Guard marine units. The win was based on the experience of Coast Guard air pilots who had been using Night Vision equipment for the past few years. Here's an example of why this customer values our Night Vision technology so highly.
Coast Guard Crew Rescues Six "On the Verge of Death"
March 1, 2004
Washington Post
PORTSMOUTH, Va., Feb. 29 -- The U.S. Coast Guard chopper was nearly full and running out of fuel when crewmen pulled aboard what is most likely the last survivor of the Bow Mariner on Saturday night.
One man on a stretcher screamed in pain. Another, disoriented from hypothermia and oil fumes and drifting in and out of consciousness, tried to jump up and bite his rescuers. Flight mechanic Sam Pulliam had to look twice when the sixth and final sailor came up.
"I couldn't even tell if he was a person," Pulliam said. "He was all curled up in a ball and covered in black oil. I couldn't even see the whites of his eyes. It was like a horror movie."
The Coast Guard suspended its search at nightfall Sunday for the remaining 18 crew members of the tanker that exploded Saturday night and sank off Virginia's Eastern Shore while carrying 3.5 million gallons of ethanol from New York to Houston. Authorities will decide Monday whether to continue looking.
Three crew members are confirmed dead in what officials said they believe was an accident. But the exact cause of the fire and explosion on the 570-foot vessel about 55 miles east of Chincoteague Island is unknown.
The harrowing rescue mission at sea began about two hours after a 6:10 p.m. distress call from the Greek-managed ship, when the pilot, Lt. Eric Bader, 31, and his colleagues, Petty Officer Dave Foreman, 24, and Pulliam 33, left Elizabeth City, N.C., in an orange and white HH-60 Jayhawk helicopter.
It was pitch dark when they came across what Bader called an "unearthly scene."
Through NIGHT VISION GOGGLES they spotted a huge swath of the ocean covered in a sheen of black oil with what appeared to be vapors of steam rising above it. On top of the oil, scores of empty life vests bobbed in the darkness, their emergency strobe lights blinking.
They spotted a raft, but a canopy prevented them from clearly seeing how many people were on it. It looked like only one person was aboard.
Concerned about reports of a chemical spill, the crew carefully lowered a steel basket next to the raft, shined a light and yelled down to the person to get inside. But there was no movement.
Foreman decided to lower himself into the water. When he maneuvered beside the raft, the stench of the oil and ethanol was almost overpowering, he said. He tried not to think about the possibility that a spark from the helicopter equipment could ignite the flammable liquid around him.
On the raft, he spotted several more men, all Filipino, covered in black oil. One of them spoke broken English and became Foreman's interpreter.
"Everything was slippery and dark," Foreman recalled Sunday in an interview. "I asked about injuries, but there was no time for anything else. The fumes were strong, and I was starting to get disoriented and not feeling so hot."
One by one, Foreman sent the men up in the basket, which could hold only one person at a time, staying behind to help the others. But the last two posed problems: One man was lying flat on his back and indicated he had a back injury; the other appeared to be lifeless.
"I knew all these people were on the verge of death," Foreman said.
Meanwhile, 75 feet above in the helicopter, Bader worried about Foreman. The whirring of the chopper blades made communication impossible. And he couldn't see him in the darkness as the force of the helicopter churned up the water below. If Foreman got into trouble, Bader knew he would be out of options.
"If Dave lost consciousness, I had no one else to put down to get him back," he said.
Behind him, the cabin was so drenched in oil that flight mechanic Pulliam was slipping and sliding dangerously close to the helicopter door as he pulled each victim up in the basket. His hands covered with oil, he covered the men in blankets and quickly put together a stretcher to lower to Foreman to help the man on his back. Finally, the last crewman and Foreman made it aboard.
Low on gas, Bader headed to Sentara Norfolk General Hospital. It was hard to hear anything in the crowded chopper with the screaming man, the radios and the helicopter. Giving them oxygen was too risky because of the flammability of the oil. They could only do their best to keep them warm.
At the hospital, the six sailors, whose names were not released, were treated, and three were released Sunday morning. The other three were in good condition and ready to be released Sunday night, according to a hospital spokeswoman.
"I can't [overstate] what those guys did last night," Bader said of his crew. "They put themselves at considerable risk, and six men are living today because of them."
