Without thinking, we’re lucky to be alive

  • Published
  • By Staff Sgt. Don Branum
  • 50th Space Wing Public Affairs
SCHRIEVER AIR FORCE BASE, Colo. (AFPN) --  Our office had a safety briefing with a different flavor before the Memorial Day weekend. Every other safety or operational risk management briefing I have sat through since I enlisted six years ago was vanilla: “Don’t drink and drive. Only drive eight hours per day. Make sure you have whatever safety equipment you need for outdoor activities. See you next week.”

This briefing was a sundae instead. Each of us had to relate a story about something we had done that might not have happened if we had thought about it before doing it -- simple risk management.

One of my co-workers related a story of taking an impromptu trip to do some mountain climbing. Since it was on such short notice, he didn’t bother taking any gear with him and didn’t do research into the area where he would be climbing. Five hours into the climb, he found himself on an almost nonexistent ledge with a sharp wind pushing up at his feet.

“That was not a smart position to be in,” he told us.

He had given himself no choice. He either would have to press on or turn around and make a five-hour climb back to his starting point.

My own story was about fatigued driving. I was a member of the honor guard at my last base and was responsible for driving the other 11 people in our funeral detail to and from the ceremony. We had finished the detail and were on our way back. Most of the people in the back of the van were asleep, exhausted from wearing service dress uniforms in the scorching heat and oppressive humidity.

I was just as exhausted, but too proud to admit it or ask for someone else to drive. The van began to drift toward the right side of the road the second or third time my eyes drooped. We all were extremely lucky I woke up when the front right tire scraped along the side of the pavement.

The most sobering story came from the next person in our circle, who told us about a kayaking trip he took on his 21st birthday. Again, the notice was short, and he didn’t give himself time to prepare. The river got choppy shortly after he and his friends began their adventure, and his kayak flipped. Rolling over on a kayak is a common occurrence, but he was not adequately trained to recover. After three failed attempts to right himself, he reached for the pull cord to get out of his kayak.

The pull cord was nowhere to be found. In his haste to prepare for the trip, he had tucked the cord inside the rubber skirt of his kayak.

“At the time, I thought, ‘that’s it, I’m dead,’” he said.

He had been submerged for about 45 seconds.

He changed his mind a few seconds later and tore frantically at the kayak’s skirt to free himself. After struggling for several more seconds, he pulled himself out and swam to safety.

We each shared our own harrowing tale. As we listened, we took notes about what we thought contributed to each person’s situation. We chuckled as we scribbled down “foolhardiness,” “lack of training” or “lack of preparation.”

Even as we laughed, though, we learned. Our group was small, but we each had a story that could have ended tragically.

The most important lesson I came away with is this: if you do not determine the consequences of your decision before you make it, you’ll be lucky to survive the experience. Risk management has to be more than a dusty copy of an Air Force instruction. It has to be more than an annual training requirement. It must be a constant and conscious method you use to make decisions.

It is better to be smart than lucky. Be prepared: know your limits, know your surroundings and be safe. Your life depends on it.