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The Fourth of July and Douglas Dimberg, Parts one and two.

March 31, 2011 By 1 Comment

I originally posted this on my first blog. In fact, it was THE reason I started blogging. I had an experience in my life that I never forgot, and I always thought, “you know, if I die, I’d really like to at least get that thought down on paper… or something”. So I started blog over on blogger and tried to put it into words. I wasn’t very good at it initially, and it sort of psychologically and creatively exhausted me and I wound up splitting it into two posts that were spread out over a couple of weeks.

I just got an email that the domain name for my old blog was expiring, and I finally decided that I was going to go ahead and delete the account and shut it down.

But I really didn’t want to lose this one post (well, two posts actually). So I’m going to just re-publish them here as one long post… for posterity. At least until I delete THIS one…

So without further ado…

The fourth of July and Douglas Dimberg

It’s officially the fourth of July and this is what I remember:

It was November 30th, 1988 (by the way, as a side note, I had to go look that up in my cruise book. Sad isn’t it?). I had worked about eighteen hours that day. I was an Aviation Ordnanceman on the USS Nimitz and was working “CAG Arm-Dearm” and was on Cat 3. This meant I was working the third catapult all day, which meant cats and traps, or as they’re commonly known, takeoffs and landings. Those days are rough because you have to be up well before the first takeoff, and stay until the last trap of the day, which is usually just before midnight. So getting up around six, and working until midnight was pretty much the standard “Cat 3 day”.

So there I was, just getting off work, and looking forward to catching up on a little rest. I was finished, showered, dressed for bed, and ready to call it a night when I heard it,

“GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS. PROCEED UP AND FORWARD ON THE STARBOARD SIDE, DOWN AND AFT ON THE PORT SIDE…GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS”

Without missing a beat, off came the sleepwear, on went the greens, redshirt, and boots, and out the hatch I went. My berthing at the time was on the level just beneath the arresting gear aft, pretty much under the 4 wire. I was above the hanger bay and below the flight deck. When I woke up every morning to go to work, I normally would proceed out of my berthing area, thru a hatch leading to the catwalk outside. This would place me along the edge of the flight deck, on the port side, where the landing safety officer would normally stand. I’d hop up the ladder, up on deck, and I could cut straight across the flight deck to work. Honestly, since it was after flight quarters, and there was nothing landing or taking off, it would be fine to head out to my shop in this manner, even at night under general quarters.

So off I go, getting ready to head up the catwalk to the flight deck when “Tucker”, another AO, came down from precisely where I was going. “Can’t go that way,” he said. “Why not?”, I asked. “Because it’s all on fire”.

It took a couple of seconds for that to sink in.

End of Part One.

The fourth of July and Douglas Dimberg Part Two

So there it was. The flight deck was on fire.
Later, we’d learn that an A-7 Corsair II had shot its M61 Vulcan rounds into a KA-6D tanker that was full of fuel. The rounds were high explosive rounds that were packed with White Phosphorus that ignites on contact with Oxygen. They were depleted Uranium shells, so you figure out how that was supposed to work. High Explosive round with an armor penetrating casing. It’s created to go INTO something (a tank), and set the INSIDES of it (the tank) on FIRE. Imagine how that works on a tanker aircraft that’s full of fuel. The tanker was parked near the bow, between Catapults 1 and 2 in an area known as “the street” with the A-7 parked directly next to it facing its side, over cat 2.
I know, I know, you’re saying to yourself, “how on earth can guns fire on the ground? Aren’t there steps to ensure that nothing like that happens?”. Oh how right you are. That’s why the people who were responsible for this were made to pay. Leavenworth, from what I understand.
It’s very simple. Weapon systems won’t work on the ground.
It’s easy. There’s an actual switch in the landing gear called “the weight off wheels” switch. When the plane is on the ground, the weight compresses the landing gear and the switch is active. Weight is ON the wheels, and the weapons systems are not “allowed” to arm. Missles can’t fire, Guns can’t shoot. In order to “fool” the airplane, sometimes you have to use a “weight off wheels” actuator. It’s just a wedge that you wedge into the weight on wheels switch to actuate it and make the plane think the landing gear is up. Of course, before you do this, you’re supposed to go thru a lengthy checklist that include disconnecting any plugs or wires that might lead to the accidental firing of a weapon.
Not so in this case. Gun is connected. Weight is OFF the wheels, and some poor sucker in the pilot seat of the A-7 pulls the trigger, thinking nothing is going to happen. The whole team was neglegent and people paid with their lives.
What happens is in the second he pulls the trigger, he blows rounds into a KA-6D tanker not 15 yards away igniting the fuel inside and engulfing the whole immediate area in flames. Several people are killed instantly including Douglas Dimberg, who was on his way to an EA-6B Prowler to work on it. Doug and I had gone to boot camp in Orlando together in May/June of 1985. Upon completion of boot camp, he went off to his “A-School” and I went off to mine. I eventually made my way to the VA-165 Boomers stationed on NAS Whidbey Island where we ran into each other months later. We’d occasionally pass each other on base, or, as we were deployed, we’d see each other in the chow line, on the flight deck, FOD walkdown, etc.
So that’s what I’m faced with as I make my way to the flight deck. It’s probably been on fire now for about four or five minutes as I head up there on the starboard side, forward of the island. I’m an Aviation Ordnanceman, so starboard side of the island is the weapons farm, where literally all of the weapons are staged for loading onto aircraft on the flight deck. There are enough people already worrying about the weapons staged there and that was their job, and I wasn’t about to get in the way. Instead, I’m grabbed and led across the flight deck, behind the fire, to the port side. There I run into my best friend Mike, who’s on a team and slowly advancing toward the fire. My team grabs a hose and maneuvers to the left of Mike, coming at the fire now from almost the top/bow direction. So I’m on a hose advancing, and Mike’s on a hose advancing.
I don’t really remember when the AFFF kicked in, but I do remember fighting the fire, helping move aircraft, and walking around in the early morning hours in several inches of foam, so I know the system kicked on at some point. I remember watching the sun come up and getting the first chance to see the devastation on the forward flight deck. Our KA-6D was a complete loss. Over the side it went, but not before our squadron spent the better part of the day stripping out every useful component in her. I remember the kind of stunned silence of walking around up there. People going about their jobs with a focus and determination that cut thru the tragedy of the day. I don’t really remember a time to reflect on the accident, or think about what had happened until much later. It just seemed like there was so much to do.
I have pretty vivid memories of fighting the fire with Mike. Later, I think Mike and I would acknowledge the moments, and maybe talk about how crazy it was there for a couple of hours, but I don’t think we ever sat down and really talked about it. At one point during the fire, I remember thinking that we were getting cut off from the rest of the ship because the fuel spilling out of the tanker was on fire and it was literally spreading liquid fire across the deck as it spilled, and the combination of the ship turning and the fuel spilling was making it extremely difficult to see how we weren’t going to wind up completely cut off on the bow with no place to go but over the side. I remember thinking, “if I go over, there’s no way they’ll ever find me, what a shitty way to go, I wish I could tell my mom goodbye…” and that was about it. The rest of the time seems like a blur of getting what needed to be done, done.
I can close my eyes sometimes and make myself see Dimberg. I don’t remember exactly what he looked like, and that’s a shame. I wish I could. I can see a sort of rough outline of him, like he’s not exactly in focus, and in that outline, I can see him smiling. I don’t even want to forget that out in the ocean, far away from military bases, and “action”, and “hot zones” a man named Doug Dimberg gave his life for his country. He died doing his job. He had friends and they remember him. The flight deck of an Aircraft Carrier is a dangerous place, and occasionally people die up there. Right now, while you’re reading this, there are young men and women who are working on one of those very same flight decks, doing those very same jobs, and who deserve our respect and admiration.
Here’s hoping every single one of them makes it home in one piece.
Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: , , ,

The most riveting 10 minutes you’ll witness…

March 30, 2011 By 1 Comment

This is the most amazing presentation I’ve seen in recent memory. It’s Ralph Langner, a German control systems security consultant. He was working to analyze and track down the origin and purpose of the “Stuxnet Virus”. This was a highly engineered piece of software dedicated to a very specific type of computer/machine. Trust me, even if you’re not an engineer, you’ll love this. It has all the International Intrigue of a Robert Ludlum novel… but it’s non-fiction.

Stick around for the end when he unleashes the what may be the final result of opening this particular Pandora’s Box.

Filed Under: Development & Design, Photos And Video Tagged With: , , , , ,

I wonder sometimes…

March 24, 2011 By 1 Comment

I’m the least “superstitious” person I know. I don’t believe in “fate” really, or “karma” or any of the other constructions we generally make up to help us deal with uncomfortable truths. We live, we die, a bunch of shit happens in between that we rarely have control over. I firmly believe that life is one of those things that just happens. There are people all over the world right now dealing with much worse problems and issues than you and I currently have on our plate, and all things are relative. Oh, there are things that we can exercise our opposable-thumbed-will over. We can control our diet and maintain a reasonable level of fitness, and if we don’t, there are repercussions… etcetera, etcetera… But I don’t really subscribe to a real… I dunno… “deeper meaning” to it all.

But lately, it seems that life is telling me something. I’m not quite sure what it is, but I feel like pieces of  a puzzle are being placed in front of me in a sort of haphazard way. If I could only move them around, rotate them a little bit, perhaps they’ll fit into place and all will be revealed.

I mean I’m not really superstitious… that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in zeitgeist.

You ever get that feeling?

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: , ,

The most difficult book I ever tried to obtain (so far…).

March 24, 2011 By 1 Comment
Dead 'til Proven Alive!


Jumping on the "Paul is Dead" bandwagon.

I don’t understand it. For the last couple of years I’ve concentrated almost solely on Bronze Age Batmans. Specifically, Batmans from around issue 200 to 251. This represents, in my opinion, the best example of “modern Batman” there is. Denny O’Neil and Neal Adams’ excellent “re-imagining” of the “Dark Knight Detective”. The re-introduction of Two-Face, Ra’s Al Ghul and Talia, the League of Assassins, a much more sinister and menacing Joker. All happened in the pages of Batman and Detective during the early 70s, coming on the heels of the campy 60s TV show and taking the character back to “his roots”, so to speak.

Slowly (and somewhat meticulously) I’ve been putting together what I consider fairly nice quality examples of those books. Some, like issues 232 and 234, have understandably been a bit difficult to locate and acquire for a moderate sum. Others have been pretty easy to locate. I was actually a little surprised that so many copies of issue 200 in high grade were available, which was pleasant considering it meant that the price would be appropriately kind.

But the one that just out and out shocked me was issue 222. It’s a Beatles parody issue, playing off the “Paul is Dead” urban legend started around 1969. Overstreet lists an 8.0 copy at around $35, however, that’s perhaps the most underrated price I’ve ever come across. I can tell you from personal experience, having watched every single one that’s gone on sale on eBay for the last two years that it’s going for multiples of that, unslabbed. Slabbed copies have gone for upwards of $2,000. It’s not just the price either, it’s the demand. I recently (two night ago) won a nice looking copy after trying unsuccessfully at least 50 to 60 times. The bidding on this is outrageous… and heated. I put in a bid in the last 10 seconds of a copy and as soon as I hit submit, my ultimately winning bid was immediately my maximum bid. Not a penny less. I was stunned. Moreso because I actually won the damn thing.

But it’s crazy how many people bid on this book and the prices it ultimately goes for. For the first time I started to wonder just how accurate Overstreet really is, after all.

Filed Under: Comics Tagged With: , , ,

Moving forward.

March 21, 2011 By 2 Comments

You know, I’ll be the first one to admit when I’m wrong.

About a month ago, I had a heart attack. Even as I write the words out and see them on the screen, it still takes a minute for that to sink in. For the last couple of years, I had worked really hard to change my lifestyle, all the while thinking that the things I was doing were somehow making me “immune” to heart disease. I lost 70 pounds. I rode upwards of 5-6,000 miles a year on my bike. I ate obsessively healthy. I was doing everything “right”.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. A combination of genetics and a previously disastrous lifestyle was enough to get my ticket punched.

So it happened. It was an “event”. One of those supposed life changing things that shifts your perception and changes your outlook. I told myself, however, that wasn’t going to happen to me. I spent the last couple of years developing a lifestyle, habits, and an attitude that wasn’t going to change. I was on the right path, and I wasn’t going to let this “bump in the road” dramatically change me.

And there I was. Wrong.

I admit, I haven’t blogged a lot lately. Oh, I’ve started to write things. I’ve probably started and abandoned at least two dozen posts in the last 30 days. I sit here, jot down a title that gels with what I’m thinking, and I proceed to spill my guts…. but then something happens. I just can’t seem to pull the trigger. I can’t put into words exactly how I feel, and the words on the screen just don’t seem… I dunno… adequate. Like, they don’t capture it in just the right way. In fact, I think this is the furthest I’ve gotten in a month.

I was wrong. It did change me. More profoundly than I ever would’ve thought. But in ways much deeper than I ever would’ve imagined.

Things that mattered before. Well. They just don’t matter. Likewise, things that I wasn’t paying too much attention to, or taking for granted, suddenly mean the world to me. It was as if everything that seemed important before was suddenly classified as, “some real stupid shit”. It was all replaced by the most important thing in the world, my family.

So bear with me. I think getting past this mental block will be helpful. I do want to write more about what I’m feeling, but it’s a real struggle to put it into proper context without it coming across as whiney or “borderline wallowing in self pity”, because I fucking hate that shit. I know I’m not the first person with a family. I’m not the first person to ever have a heart attack, and I won’t be the last. I realize, I’m not special. I’m just a human being in a world populated by other human beings who desperately want to be unique snowflakes. My problems are my own, my struggles aren’t anyone else’s struggles, and maybe with a little cathartic exercising, I’ll share it in a way that won’t bore the shit out of you.

I will say that one thing that’s changed is that I no longer have a sense of “comfort”, which I’m discovering is a very exciting thing. Life isn’t comfortable. Sometimes we get lulled into that false sense of comfort, only to be harshly awakened to reality. Life just happens. You’re just along for the ride. Like the cliché says, only two things in life are guaranteed, death and taxes. The only thing that comes close to a third is the love of family. Once you come to terms with the fact that the only people who really matter are the ones closest to you, your family, suddenly a world of possibilities opens up for you. Fear is good. Fear is healthy. Fear is motivating. Fear gets people who sat on their asses thinking this was the best life had to offer, up out of their seats and looking for ways to grab more from life. Not content to just sit around and take what “life gives you”. I think that’s the most dramatic change in the world around me that I can precisely pinpoint. Nobody’s going to make my life better but me. Nobody’s just going to give me a future, I’m going to have to take one.

I find myself looking at my daughters more and asking myself, “am I the man/father/husband that I want them to see?”. When they look back on their life with their father, I want them to say, “our dad was fearless”. I want them to think that anything is possible because the example I set, not because I told them countless times that they could be President of the United States. If I’m going to leave this world, I’d feel a lot better about it knowing I left it on my terms, and not someone else’s.

So I was wrong. It did change my life. Profoundly. Initially I was a little scared about things. I wasn’t on proper footing. The ground was shifting beneath my feet a little too much for comfort. But you know, I think now that I’ve got the rhythm of how all this works, I can really get into it. I think I can dance to this tune.

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: , ,

March 9, 2011

March 9, 2011 By Leave a Comment
My heart belongs in Socastee.


Early birthday present. Thanks to Keith, I now have a spare.

Filed Under: Photos And Video Tagged With: ,