Indian Island Chemical Training

Indian Island was home for the 201st MI BREs' 502nd MI Battalion, for a week while performing chemical protection training. I was part of the HQ Service Company as a Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic/Recovery Specialist. This was one of the hardest and fun missions I was on. I was station at Fort Lewis, Washington, and we had to convoy to Pudget Sound to meet up with our transports who would take us and our vehicles to Indian Island. Indian Island is located west of Marrowstone Island between the waters of Port Townsend and Kilisut Harbor. Indian Island is approximately 4.2 nmi long and oriented on a north-south axis between Marrowstone Island and the mainland of the Quimper Peninsula.

The day started out before the moon rose, hours before the sun even thought about slipping into darkness. We convoyed to a small area on the sound to catch our transport barge. When we arrived at our meeting location we hurriedly loaded Humvee trucks, 5-ton trucks, a Hemmit and my 5-ton wrecker onto the transport. Unfortunately someone did not estimate the time correctly and the tide had gone out and we were stuck. The barge with all of the extra weight was sitting on the ground and we had to wait for tide to come back in before we could leave.

Night had fallen by the time the shore released its grip on us. Most of my fellow soldiers had taken to sleep inside their vehicles. I on the other hand had to go explore. I did not sleep one wink that night, as I had a guided tour through the engine room and other areas of the barge. An experience I am more than happy I missed sleeping to have. Learning, seeing new things has always been important to me, and this was a once in a lifetime experience to be able to see everything I did that night. Morning came, and a few of my fellow mechanics began to stir and so we ventured around the barge together taking in the sites of the sound and really enjoying this part of our duty. Military life has its ups and downs, a lot of time of having the feeling of being alone and missing, yet, this simple slow ride up Pudget Sound was a natural high and really boosted moral for a lot of people. Which, I believe really helped us survive what was going to happen next.

As we landed on Indian Island, my vehicle was the first to come off, I pulled around to the side as I watched the other vehicles roll off and was ready if any needed assistance. I watched the last vehicle roll off the transport and into the island. The transport packed up and I watched as they slowly lolled out into the sound and that was the last bit of peace I had, for mortar simulators shook the ground and thundered through the skies. The next sound heard was the chemical weapons alert, training had started and it was time to don our NBC gear (Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical).

Strangely enough, even though this was NBC training, we arrived in the area at MOPP level 0. You see there are 5 levels of MOPP (Mission Orientated Protection Posture) starting at level 0 with no added protection and ending at level 4 in full NBC gear. The first step was to don the protective mask and hood than move to coverings, top, pants and finishing with over-boots and gloves. Being the only recovery specialist for the BRE had some perks, one of which was I had time to put on my protective gear correctly. Let me explain this a bit more before I go on, one would wear their normal BDUs and add the NBC gear over the uniform. The pants and top to me, seemed like putting on charcoal filled quilted clothing. They where thick, heavy, very hot and left black charcoal smears on your underclothing. Than rubber boots over our leather boots, and tucked in to not allow any exposure between pant and boot area. The Chemical protective mask, is just as you would think, it is a huge mask with canisters and a hood that attaches under the arms to reduce exposure between top and hood. The mask hampers breathing, sight, hearing, and can cause claustrophobia in some people. Lastly butyl rubber gloves are added and secured causing a loss of touch, and dexterity. These hindrances are small prices to pay in your protection against hazards that can damage you in more ways than one.

As I pulled around and made my way to camp, I found out that midway through their own arrival they where attacked and gassed with CS (2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile) a type of tear gas. As I looked around, people where still scrambling to fix their gear and put on pieces and such. It looked like they had been attacked. I was told the immediate threat was neutralized but the main threat lingered and with chemical in the area we had to continue to wear our protective gear. This is where things become difficult, we had to erect camp while wearing this gear, I found for myself the loss of hand manipulation really cost me extra time and frustration. As the frustration and body heat built it began the oceans of sweat poring down my face, and without any circulation underneath the gear it made everyone's temper shorten. Yet, setting up camp was not the only difficulty we held, as mechanics we also had to perform full maintenance services on some of the vehicles and it had just started to rain. If you never believed in teamwork before, this next part will make you a believer, it was the strongest I have ever seen a team work together.

A single mechanic can perform a service on a vehicle within a couple hours in less than optimal environment. However, I would have to say, our current environment was more than considered a harsh environment. We took ourselves to tackle as a team each vehicle one at a time, instead of the more common practice of one mechanic on one vehicle. We each took one of our best areas of the vehicle and preformed the service and moved to another area of the same vehicle when completed. We aided each other when needed and even though I was laying in two inches of water and mud with rain and grease sprinkling my mask, I seemed to enjoy my job and the camaraderie we had completing those services. We were given a ridiculously short time period to have those vehicles completed and tested before returning to their operators. We finished with time to spare and no one to care but ourselves. Being a military mechanic has to be one of the most lackluster, thankless and important jobs in the service. But, there were times when it didn't matter, there were times it our small group of mechanics worked together and appreciated each other and those times made it worth while.

Normally, everyone hated guard duty; one has to go sit in a hole away from everyone watching for the enemy. For me, I relished this duty while on Indian Island, for you see, I was far enough away from camp that if even for just a moment or two I could crack the seal on my mask and get some life revitalizing, crisp cool air to brush across my hot flushed sweaty face. That cool breeze felt like nothing ever experienced before, it was better than putting on fresh socks after a long hike. Granted I wasn't supposed to do that, there was still a threat in the air, but, oh it was so nice.
The week itself, went along like this, every once in a while we would be attacked, we had classes on chemical threats, and did competitions and stuff all while wearing full NBC gear. We did have small reprieves of the mask while we ate MREs (Military Read-to-Eat Meals), and change underclothing (basic personal hygiene). We had even slept with our masks on. Even with all the training and events going on, there were times when we had down time and were able to walk around and explore the island a bit, and collect sand dollars for poker and what not.

Sadly when the week was over, we convoyed back to base instead of taking the transport through the sound. We had to travel across a floating bridge, but before we got there, the MPs (Military Police) had to stop traffic on a two lane road. One lane was west bound the other was east bound. We were turning eastbound to make it back to the mainland. I was the last vehicle of course, because I was wrecker, but I was also the slowest vehicle. As I was driving down this very narrow road, the stopped west bound traffic seemed to go on for miles. Than I noticed someone traveling on the east bound lane, in the wrong direction. This person was driving a small truck heading straight for me, with a row of cars on my left, and a shear cliff on my right, I had no where to go with my 5-ton truck. First thought through my mind, was that I had a reinforced four foot steel bumper on the front of my truck and the other driver would be killed before he even hit the bulk of my truck. I only had split seconds to react, I inched my truck to the right as much as I could, and right before impact I locked the brakes for a split second. There was a loud 'THUNK' as something in my bed shifted, and the driver of the small truck served in between me and the row of cars. Something was looking out for everyone that moment for no vehicles touched and I continued on my way. My shop foreman, my boss, was my TC, he was riding shotgun in other words, a big man, stood about 6'3". After I straighten out in to the middle of my lane again, I looked over at him, and saw him curled up with his knees to his chest looking out the window. He was stating over and over again 'The guard rail disappeared, the guard rail disappeared.' He was looking straight down the cliff into oblivion. The 'THUNK' that was heard; I found out later was an extra fuel can that hit the cab right behind his seat. He recovered from the incident fairly quickly and thanked me for my driving skills. After arriving back to the rear, the BMO (Battalion Motor Officer) was told about the accident avoidance and I was given a pair of mechanic gloves as a reward.

This concludes my adventures at Indian Island for NBC training with the 502nd MI BN.