We went to a flood last night

My son called last night to ask if he could borrow my Jeep or Bronco to haul sand bags(???)

That's the first indication I had that something was going poorly for the stupids.

He told me the water was up to the registers in his old store and the District had called to see if he could help because the new manager was out of reach for some reason.

When he said "up to the registers", silly me, I thought it was creeping in that far. Actually it was covering the floor a couple of inches deep, with the water outside eight inches or so higher than the floor.

Per the news this morning, we erased our rain deficit for the year last night. Seven inches in a couple of hours.

The pictures above are of standing water, very important that is!

I and a couple of very nice young men, redirected traffic and pushed several cars out of the deeper water.

The white Lincoln will be on ebay soon as the man driving it tried to get out the door and then left through the sun (flood roof) roof. He was sitting on the top of the car when we went by.

I have a 4X4 diesel pick up that sits pretty high, and enough sense to turn around if it gets too deep. We plowed through slowly to the store to get money for sand bags. I parked on the side walk and talked to the employees through the door.

Sand bags were not going to help.

At that time I got a few lessons in how stupid some people are. Any one with any type of car that didn't float plowed along through the water, some of them with a wake a couple of feet high.

The drivers of cars we tried to redirect away from the deepest part, would look at you like you were trying to trick them, and then continue on until the water killed the engine or they started to float. Cars with low bumpers, had waves running up across the hood to the windshield.

They were still coming when we were done and finally went home.

The killer is I could see high pavement, and no one went that way.

The cars in the really deep water are in the street. The police actually blocked that road.

I enjoyed being an a$$hole for a little, when every other car on the street was in the center lane to stay out of the water, I got into it, had a clear lane, and thew some really high rooster tails.

I love me some tall truck.

Uber Redneck

I have written several stories about some of my friends with more than a little of the characteristic blush around the collar. I have to admit I am related to a few as well. Most of my paternal family are coal miners, entrepreneurs (shiftless), and in some cases incarcerated felons. The majority have a flirting relationship with common sense, untinged by the slightest hint of restraint.

One of my cousins is among the impressively departed, because he made a few misjudgments. His judgment wasn't always the best anyway.

Early on he tried to hang (current usage for the expression) with the older crowd, that would be me and some of the cousins. We didn't get him hurt, rather, we inspired him to excel by doing things we wouldn't dream of. He got his fanny whipped so often he didn't even notice anymore. His Mom got considerable exercise erasing our influences, mostly upper body, but some good cardio as well. That means she beat him until she was out of breath and too tired to whack him again. Not to fear, he was too hard headed to pay a lot of attention to that sort of thing.

Most every mountain boy dreams of going out of the mountains, to anywhere that's far away. He was no exception and eventually slipped away to join the Army. He had seen all the recruiting posters that show beautiful facilities at Ft. Carson, and knew it was just the place for him. No one told him who would be doing all the upkeep at those places. This was in the late seventies, all the poster shots were like real-estate photos, everything looked a lot better than it was.

He signed up, and likely got his first hint of a swindle when his Basic bus stopped in front of his new home, and he was greeted by a large angry man in a flat hat. That’s a tough day, I don't care who you are. He persevered and managed to esca,,, graduate from training.

Very soon the trouble began. The trouble included several article 15, nonjudicial punishment, assessments against his pay. Though I was never told about them, I suspect some correctional custody stays for the tail end of his military career. He decided the military wasn't for him and went home. Call it AWOL, or desertion, it's the same thing. One you are getting shot at, the other you're not. At that time the Army didn't expend a lot of effort to get you back, so his vacation was extended, considerably.

Eventually someone realized he was a fugitive until the situation was resolved, and made a call. The MP's showed up and hauled him away for a couple of weeks, then sent him home. The resolution was a discharge with no benefits. Employers in that part of the sticks couldn't care less which kind of discharge the military gave you, it didn't effect your lousy pay anyway.

He got the job of his dreams, being underpaid on a strip mine. Even his pleasure over this step up in the world couldn't motivate him to get out of bed and go to be productive. His car pool (truck pool?) was of like mind, and these boys would be so late the rest of us would just call in sick and stay home. Being the people they were, they would try to get there as quick as they could, to save having to explain to the boss.

I wonder if that few extra winks were worth dying for, probably not.

On the morning of their shuffle (sprint?) off to the next life, they were way late. The driver/pilot had a big block Ford pickup and an IQ barely escaping single digits. The roads in the mountains near their job is crooked enough to make a Nascar driver pee his pants.

I learned to drive on the same roads as Junior Johnson and some of the old drivers. I've never been known for my restraint behind the wheel, and those roads scared me!

The boys were trying to make an impression, being fashionably late and all. They made an impression all right, into a bridge abutment. The driver lost control, if he was ever in control, on the last curve before the turn into the site. The truck with its unhappy occupants sailed from the road bed in a high trajectory through a stand of large Poplars, cutting six of them off at ten or so feet above the ground. They hit the above mentioned bridge across the Clinch river and knocked it off the foundation.

People this was a concrete bridge built to carry coal trucks!

Don't try this at home!!!

The truck was compressed around the bodies so badly they couldn't be removed. This was in the days before a Hurst Tool was more than something on TV. Several hours and the careful application of hydraulics and chains, considerable retching, and no doubt some painful memories, the boys were extracted. The service was closed casket.

My Dad was in the fifth wave at Normandy, and at some point in recon, got the undertaker to open the box.

He said it was pretty bad, I'll take his word for it.

Beachin'

We took the girls and the grand babies to the beach yesterday.

The act of a total idiot.

Memorial day, everyone from hours around and farther, who thinks a 4X4 selector makes them the Rat Patrol, must go to the beach. The park rangers were handing out instructions on how to avoid getting stuck.

Idle hope.

I saw people who were stuck and didn't know it yet. No one was airing down the tires and they were just plowing on until they high centered, no it wasn't high centered, it was worse, they were sitting on the body with all four wheels free wheeling. The beach was really cut up and soft. I can normally pull something out, but yesterday it was an invitation to sink like a rock.

The alternative is the winch. Great toy there. Put it in park, let the hopeless hook up, unless they have tow hooks. Tighten the cable, watch the tires on my truck, push sand and sink until the other vehicle moves or the winch stops pulling. If it stops dig and repeat.

Score for the winch fest, One Grand Cherokee three times (he had his wife and child with him), one Wrangler twice, one Chevy Blazer, and one Tahoe. In case anyone thinks I charge, not this time, probably not ever, unless they are really stupid and make me actually work.

I had a great time, and saved some others fun day, not too bad at all.

The best part of all this was the love of my life driving her new (to us) Wrangler with nary a bobble all the way out and back.

She did great!

CSR continued.

One of our operators went down from heat in the primary containment, two levels above the exit, and about equidistant from either ladder down. He is, thankfully, at home now, resting. When he was accessed he had no sensation in his extremities or his face.We covered him in ice packs, cut his outer clothes away, put him on high flow O2, a pulse oximeter. He came to shortly and regained conciousness and some strength.

The ambulance was brought in to the reactor building and held at the inner railroad door. The area we were working in is High rad, high contamination, high noise, and way to warm. We rigged two separate lowering setups, one for each elevation. The patient was secured in a Half Back, with spinal immobilisation. When we got him outside, he was transported to the local ER for an IV and rest.

This is a classic case of being too close to your patient. He is one of the people that every one likes. Thus our Incident Command System went to $h!T. The assigned commander was doing patient care, the second commander on scene was trying to manage the rescue from the inside, I was the third commander on the scene, and wound up doing rigging and safety in the containment. I did turnover command to someone outside before I went in.We are the most experienced rescue responders, and we had a job to do, we handed the efforts off to others and went to care for our friend.

Other knowledgeable people popped up and we put them to work, hauling equipment, some mechanical people did part of the rigging and managed lines.The good news is we had enough people to eat the guy on the spot and not have to carry him down, but as no salt was available, we brought him out intact. The bad news is the same, enough people to eat the dude, there's no place to stand around there.

We are generally very careful about not spreading contamination, that went out the window. The Rad Protection techs were about to allow me in wearing my street clothes, I declined the offer. I chose instead to invest twenty seconds in donning a paper suit shoe covers and gloves. I find it amazing that no one had to shower, nor were any even contaminated.

The thing that really bugged me was the lack of equipment available to work with. We train with lots of top quality equipment. Now, in the middle of the night, I have to do the real deal, and I don't have enough equipment to do much more than tie my shoes. A lot of things I would have done, given tools and two minuets, settled out into using every piece of rope I had for something. In this business having just enough, means your options are limited, and load ratios and safety lines are the things of theory.The next real problem that looms on the horizon, what if I'm the patient?

Life would suck huge!
Posted by DW at 3:43 PM

P.S.
This is a repost, I have been spammed. I am sorry to report I have activated the protection against that.

CSR again

One of my brothers in operations went down today, he will be fine. We went to get him, all of us. He is a great guy, and we love him, he is our own.
Convulsions, loss of sensation in the extremities, delirium. Heat stroke or what ever you care to call it.

When the rest of the site realises that ops is serious, then we get what we want. We got it.
We will get the rest later.

It could have been a lot better. I am the rigger, I didn't have what I needed. I used what I had. I could have carried him out in my arms, and I would have, given the chance. I have to give others the chance, eventually they will learn. I can only hope the price will be labor, not lives.

We managed, we will do better.

I doubt this will make the national news, but we had two ambulances in the reactor building. My brother, my friend, we will all pray for your recovery, and speedy return to us.

More later.

Ok, you broke the window because......???

There are some things that just don't help get the job done. Knowing you are out of your mind, and should be scared witless, would be two. Ignorance is bliss, and most times, I'm the happiest guy in town.

There are some people who have always been, and will always be, trouble. They should have large, illuminated signs, floating far enough above them that the passerby would know to shy away. Police would know to keep a weather eye in that direction, well, cops know any way.

I got a call one night fairly early, unknown injury, and the address was just outside town. We, the two female EMT's and my self, hustled to the address and found nothing.

Humph!

Maybe we overshot, I'll have a peep over here at the neighboring house. Yep! I call on the radio to the crew to bring the unit around the house. I can tell this is the place because of my finely tuned intuition and investigative skills, and the pool of blood covering the greater part of the kitchen floor.

This is when every officer in the county "u" turns and heads my way, didn't know it until later. Seems these boys, sons of the Mayor, are known to all and sundry, except me. Their Dad is part of the good ole boy network here 'bouts. They have been involved in drugs, alcohol, and every hair brained dust up that can be named. Daddy, being the richest and most influential dude in town, gets them off every time. No lessons learned.

When I get to the door, I can see two men on the floor, one holding the hand of the other who is unconscious. One man looks up and says something like "help my brother". He looks pretty dead to me, but OK, I got gloves on, let me check a pulse. I walk slowly and carefully through the blood, did you ever notice how slick the floor gets when there 's blood on the tile? This pool was not as deep as it looked, not even half the thickness of my shoe sole. I still didn't want it on my pants. He has a heart beat, so I asks what happened. "He was off his medication and felt a seizure coming on and got pissed off and punched a window. He cut his hand real bad and I just grabbed him and put pressure on it."

The bad news is these are the sober two of four brothers, the other two are behind me. Where the hell they came from I have no idea! The crew is in the unit with the doors locked. I now have two drunk, irate, ner-do-wells, one for each shoulder, like stinky parrots, yelling at me to do something. So, rather than have them behind me, and way too close. I turn to them and move them back. I didn't have to push them or anything, I just faced them and held my hands up between us and they stayed just out of arms reach. As soon as I turned and asked the brother to let me see the injury site, I got drunk parrots again, same routine. I was more than a little worried that they might think the thing to do is to kick my butt to motivate me a little. Who knows what a drunk will do?

It seems conscious brother is afraid seizure brother will start bleeding again. I tell him it's OK, I'll handle it if it does. When brother slowly opens his hand I see, nothing. I wonder how long those two sat there that way. The puncture wound to the back of his hand was sealed and barely visible.

The crew has talked with dispatch and now that they know the cavalry is en route, have decided to come see why my ungainly carcass isn't pinwheeling through the air to the yard. They actually bring a kit and the stretcher. I bandaged the seizure brothers hand, put conscious brother to controlling the parrot brothers, loaded seizure brother and hauled his butt to good old Stump Water General ER. On the way seizure brother wakes up and has some very uncomplimentary things to say about us. The police arrive and have a word of prayer with seizure brother.

The pin head got home before we could get the unit back in service, it took a little longer because seizure brother is HIV+, and as we all know that's extra care for cleanup.

I never saw that lot again, and I don't believe I'll miss them. I only hope the next poor sap that walks into that place has been warned, and has the boys in blue or khaki in tow.