WESTHAMPTON BEACH, N.Y. (AFPN) -- It was unsettling to know that until Feb. 28 the only two things that had ridden in the world’s first multi-person rescue basket had been Lois and Adam, two test mannequins from the 746th Test Squadron at Holloman Air Force Base, N.M.
Lois is an acronym for Lowest Occupant in Service. She’s the lighter of the two. Adam means Advanced Dynamic Anthropomorphic Mannequin. And Fearless is my middle name, unless I’m dangling from a helicopter 150 feet above treetops -- in which case the “F” stands for freaked-out-crying-little-girl.
The reason the Air Force uses mannequins of different weight is because scientists don’t know which one will be knocked around the most. In the business of flying around, it could be either. In this case, flying in the Heli-Basket proved to be an easy assignment for the two crash-test dummies, which are accustomed to wood-jarring ejection seat testing on lightning-swift speed sleds.
Lois and Adam flew at nearly 100 mph in the basket and barely registered anything on their complex matrix of test sensors. Scientists from the Air Force Research Laboratory Human Effectiveness Directorate at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, probably would’ve gained more sensor data had the two been involved in a soapbox derby crash.
That meant not a thing to me. After all, I have human sensors that have been finely honed since 1961. Given the right circumstances, I can laugh and cry within seconds of each emotion, like when a trophy-mounting fish slips my line.
When the New York Air National Guard’s 106th Rescue Wing asked for human sacrifices, I mean volunteers, Senior Master Sgt. Diana Manno raised her hand because she wanted to be a part of history.
“They asked for live dummies, and that’s me,” joked the airfield management superintendent.
Deep in her heart, she thrives for excitement. She’s an adrenalin junkie who likes to ride roller coasters and once plummeted down a thrill ride perched atop the highest casino in Las Vegas, Nev. She looks like the type who would even shop at the commissary on a military payday.
Before the human experiment, she said she was not scared -- that being naïve about the project was a good thing.
And she was correct. The more I delved into the Heli-Basket’s history, the more I was concerned. Not for my safety, mind you. After all, Air Force professionals were conducting the test. But for the fact that it wasn’t originally designed for human transport.
John Tollenaere said he invented it to stabilize helicopter loads, such as plywood, which catch the wind and become unstable while being transported. But in June 2003, the Army certified its use for hauling cargo. He said it was a natural progression to try to certify the Heli-Basket to carry people.
Everyone involved in the test agreed that the Heli-Basket would have been useful during hurricanes Katrina and Rita. With a little luck, the rescue basket may get certified for human transport before the next hurricane slams into one of America’s coastlines -- but that is extremely wishful thinking. The process takes time. But the first step in that process is to get people like Sergeant Manno and myself in the basket and in the air.
When Sergeant Manno’s time came to fly and she walked to the basket, her helmet chinstrap became troublesome. Then her tinted goggles came loose and pararescuemen tried to piece her back together like Humpty Dumpty, but the helicopter was churning up the wind while it hovered overhead and she ended up missing the flight.
“I became all discombobulated,” she said.
It was her hope to become the first woman to ride in the Heli-Basket. That honor went to Staff Sgt. Nicole Caruso, a 103rd Rescue Squadron supply technician. It wasn’t the first time women in the 106th Rescue Wing have entered the history books. Capt. Norma Parsons-Erb from the 106th was first woman to become a member of the National Guard.
Then it was my turn. As I strode to the basket on the third and final test flight, I wasn’t interested in making history, although I would have the distinct honor of being the first Air Force military journalist between the ages of 40 and 45 from Montana to ride in the Heli-Basket.
Once in the basket, I saw the seatbelts were exactly the same type used in military aircraft. I’ve used them for 22 years, but on this particular day I forgot how to hook the two ends together.
Like Sergeant Manno, I had become “discombobulated.”
With the wind whipping around, the helicopter noise crashing down from above and the profound sense of urgency, I was fumbling around with the seatbelt like an untrained monkey. A pararescueman had to buckle me in like a 4-year-old in a car seat.
Just about the time I remembered that I had forgotten to wear adult-sized Pampers, we flipped up into the air like the feather at the conclusion of Forrest Gump.
Over the treetops we soared. Through the wires of the cage, I had an unobstructed 360-degree view as we flew about 150 feet above the trees. Or maybe it was a 720-degree view -- counting the scene above and below, too.
The pararescueman, who had radio contact with the aircrew, would get our reactions as we flew 10 mph, then 20 mph, then 30 mph and finally 40 mph. Each time we all gave him a thumbs-up sign. It was like a magic carpet ride, except I was in a metal cage dangling from a helicopter -- freezing.
At the end of the 10-minute ride, I agreed with Sergeant Manno, who said, “The ride was exciting, but I felt safe and secure in (the basket).”
I, too, was glad it turned out to be a nice safe ride. And, the F in my middle name can remain Frances -- not freaked-out-crying-little girl.