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Marine Corps 1st Lieutenant Robert “Bill” Schick, 21, climbed proudly into his single-seat, AV-8A Harrier, the vertical take-off and landing at- tack/bomber then (in 1981) representing the latest tech- fiology jn Marine Corps aviation. Schick’s squadron had been selected to assess the deployment of these planes on koard amphibious helicopter assault ships (LHAs).
The ship that carried Schick’s squadron, the USS Nassau (LHA-4), represented an advanced Navy/Marine Corps technological evolution in itself. At a length of 820 feet and a beam of 106, she was, in effect, a mini-aircraft carrier. The LHA provided the Marines with multivessel lift capability in a single amphibious platform.
The Nassau, steaming at 20 knots, was about 100 miles : s°uth of the Azores en route to the Mediterranean. On a lightly overcast April morning, the crew prepared for blue-water operations, with no land in sight. While this flight not have been of concern to the sailors on board lhe Nassau, it had special significance to the pilots, who realized that, in the event of an emergency, they would he unable to divert their aircraft ashore.
At 0830, Schick sat in the number-two takeoff position, Waiting the signal to taxi forward and begin his vertical
I . ■ lift. He had undergone rigorous training that instilled a high degree of self-confidence about flying this unique aircraft. Little did he realize, however, that he soon would put what he had learned to the ultimate test.
As the green light went on, Schick watched the aircraft directly in front of him taxi forward from its position about 300 feet back from the bow of the ship. As it moved, the pilot tilted his thrusters downward, forcing the aircraft into a vertical lift off the flight deck and away from the ship. With the first aircraft clear, Schick got the go-ahead.
He began to execute a water-assisted short take-off, a technique that allows the plane to reach greater engine revolutions per minute, thus generating more thrust. He went to full power, released his brakes, and started to roll forward. He checked his engine gauge to ensure he had accelerated to the required power level of 107%. Anything less in a water-assisted short take-off would force the pilot to abort. As he gazed down at his instrument panel, Schic noticed quickly that his gauge was reading a dangerously low 89%.
Unfortunately, he had started to roll forward and soon realized he had to abort. He pulled back on the power and applied the brakes, but the weight of the Harrier *.3,000
pounds fully loaded—gave him too much forward momentum, despite reduced power.
The aircraft failed to stop. Schick then attempted to slow its advance by putting the plane into a reverse thrust. The aircraft still failed to respond.
The Harrier approached the bow of the ship and began to swerve toward a rescue truck on the starboard side of the flight deck. The truck began to back out of Schick’s uncontrolled trajectory.
He realized that, not only would he be unable to get his plane airborne, he also would be unable to stop it from rolling off the flight deck. Still attempting to brake, he watched helplessly as the aircraft’s continued forward movement inched the nose of his plane just over the ship’s bow. He then felt the Harrier start to fall to the sea, as the wheels of his aircraft lost all contact with the flight deck.
Finally accepting his inability to save the plane, Schick realized he would have to act fast to save his own life. If he remained inside the cockpit as the aircraft hit the water, he could well find himself trapped inside. And the Nassau, like a steaming locomotive, would be bearing down right on top of him.
The command came from the bridge for Schick to eject. He reached for the ejection seat handle underneath his leg, but he missed it on his first attempt. Another critical second or two slipped by. Having grabbed it on his second try, he pulled back, immediately jettisoning the plane s canopy. But by this time, the plane was in a vertical fall, nose first, off the bow of the ship
Because of the aircraft’s position when he pulled the ejection handle, Schick hurtle?! forward parallel to the water instead of skyward—and plummeted to the sea about 200 yards in front of the onrushing Nassau. Because personnel on the bridge could not see the cockpit of the aircraft when Schick ejected, they believed he was still inside the plane as it fell overboard.
The short horizontal—instead of high vertical—trajectory of Schick’s ejection caused his parachute to fail This was to be a mixed blessing for the young pilot. He hit the water with a tremendous force that drove him ten feet under. Fortunately for Schick, the force of the impact did not dislodge the oxygen mask he had secured prior to his ill-fated take off. And, immediately upon falling into the ocean, his life vest—designed to inflate automatically upon contact with salt water—performed accordingly.
Schick popped back to the surface and found himself badly entangled in the cords of his undeployed parachute, severely inhibiting his ability to swim. But he realized a positive side to his predicament. Many an aviator has survived ejection from his aircraft and the subsequent descent to the sea, only to succumb to a fully deployed parachute that filled with water and dragged the pilot down.
Schick spun around quickly in the water to locate the Nassau. To his horror, he saw her bearing down straight at him. He attempted to swim out of her path, despite the impairment caused by the parachute cords. But he could only watch, as the distance between him and the Nassau's huge bow continued to close.
The nose and cockpit of the plane were slightly submerged, while its tail stood erect out of the water. Tt>e plane continued to float in this manner between the | sau and Schick for a few seconds.
Still maintaining her speed of 20 knots, the ship c°®’ j tinued to bear down on the plane and its pilot. Schick , watched as the 40,000-ton vessel hit the underbelly of the I aircraft just in front of the tail section. There was no crund1 . of metal nor any breaking up of the plane as the ship passed over it. The Harrier simply disappeared. Thru*1 | downward by the tons of sea water displaced on top of'1 . by the Nassau as she continued to plow forward, the pl®n£ 1 fell like a rock to the bottom. As it did so, Schick real' I ized—at least for that moment—that he had been veO lucky. Had he remained in the cockpit a few second* | longer, he would be plunging to the dark depths of t®e j ocean floor, thousands of feet below.
Schick knew he had only a few more seconds bef°r£ the ship reached him.
Many thoughts began to flash through his head. Hi* wife Terry was nine months pregnant. Because this 'vaS their first child, his squadron commander had asked Te®) before they departed if she would prefer to have her huS' band stay behind. Terry, as much as she had wanted hi111 to be there for the birth of their child, knew how muc® the Marine Corps meant to her husband. Being a go°“ I Marine wife, she consented to let him go. Schick realize“ then that he might not live to see their child. He als® ' prayed that should he not survive, Terry would not any guilt about her decision to let him go.
Schick knew death could be awaiting him. It could come as the ship’s hull sliced through his body. Or it come by drowning, caused by the ship’s displacement 0 tons of water on top of him as it plowed forward. Or '* might come as the Nassau's steel hull pounded his bod) repeatedly during its transit. Or it might come as the hug® ) underwater pumps on the bottom of the hull sucked hi®5 i against their protective grates. Or, surviving all that, ® might come from being cut to shreds by one of the ship's i two huge 16-foot propellers. .
Schick realized the futility of his efforts to get out of the ship s path. The Nassau's speed and the physical i®5 pairment from the parachute cords prevented him ft0®1, making any headway in his frantic try to swim out I harm’s way. As he took a final look at the ship, he braced for a direct hit from the Nassau's bow.
The starboard side wave slammed Schick first, sinW' taneously pushing his upper torso away from the ship whi'e thrusting his lower torso against the submerged hull. T®e 1 force of this impact broke his leg. He had little time to i think about his injury, though, as he immediately felt hi®5' self being forced under the water.
Fighting back to the surface just off the ship’s star' board bow, Schick felt his body being pounded again*1 the Nassau’s hull. He struggled to keep himself turned toward the ship. Having worked his arms free of the restraining parachute cords, Schick used his hands to pus*1 1 off against the submerged hull as the vessel plowed bf Fortunately, his oxygen mask remained pressed again*1 his face, enabling him to breathe underwater. In the bad5 of his mind, however, he knew the next several second*
“Having witnessed what the Nassau had just done to a 23,000-pound aircraft, he had no doubts what it was capable of doing to his 190- pound frame. ”
w°uld be the most critical of his whole ordeal.
The Nassau had two large pumps on the bottom of her UN that sucked in huge amounts of seawater to cool her 'win-geared turbine engines. These pumps had hydrody- j?amically designed grates over them to prevent objects ^°m being ingested into the pumps and cooling system, f obvious concern to Schick was whether the force of suction would be sufficient to pin him underwater to ”e grate. He had heard stories of careless divers being Slmilarly snagged by the suction pumps of a ship anchored ln Port. But the Nassau s speed through the water in this Case might simply cause Schick to bounce off the grate.
He could only hope he had not been forced deep enough Underwater where the pumps would pose a danger. But he also knew the parachute still attached to him could present ^et another danger. In the process of sinking beneath .Irn> the parachute could conceivably serve as a hook, wait- la§ to be snagged by the suction. Since no one on board he Nassau had seen Schick eject, they logically assumed he Was still in the aircraft. If so, he feared he could remain such a position under the U'J> pinned against the grate, while rescuers searched in vain o°r him on the surface. But the latest danger yet remained.
The Nassau's engines powered two long drive shafts. At- Uched were the vessel’s huge j^opellers. As they sliced
hrough the water, they created a danger zone about 50 eet around the ship’s fantail. This disturbed water initi- !!ted numerous whirlpools or eddies, and their size varied.
. u' many generated force strong enough to draw a man lri'° and through the propellers. Schick could only pray SUch a violent end did not await him.
Another thought flashed in Schick’s mind. He could also face the pumps and the propellers simultaneously. If ae suction pump were to snag his parachute, the para- ehute cords could dangle his body helplessly in front up t*le churning propeller. If the cords broke, he would be Palled through the rotating blades.
One maneuver conning officers learn to execute at sea Vv''h a man overboard is a “Williamson Turn," the full ex- ecntion of which has two phases. The first and most im- P°rtant is to keep the ship’s propellers away from the vic- tlrn by turning the bow toward him. The second is to bring ship around on a reciprocal course, stopping along- s*de the victim. Since the Nassau had the capability of rescuing a man overboard with her helicopters, she did n°t have to concern herself with the second phase.
Obviously, the conning officer must know immediately °n which side of the ship the victim fell overboard so that can turn in the right direction. A wrong turn would scrve only to put the victim at greater risk by pointing the Pr°pellers directly at him.
. Schick knew the Nassau would soon begin her turn. His [^mediate concern was whether that turn would be made 111 the right direction.
Suddenly, he lost hand contact with the Nassau's hull. The ship was making her turn. But was she turning to port or starboard? He could not tell immediately. A turn in either direction would separate him from the hull. Not knowing how far down the Nassau's hull he was, Schick also could hope only that the turn had been made in time. Had it not been executed in a timely manner or in the right direction, he would soon find himself within the danger zone of the propeller wash.
With the loss of contact, Schick started to surface. As he broke through the turbulent water created in the ship s wake, he could see her stern slowly pulling away from him. She was turning in the right direction.
Despite the ship’s quick actions, Schick saw he was still going to pass through the outer area of the propeller danger zone. He was floating about 30 feet from the Nassau's fantail. As he bobbed up and down on the surface and noticed the swirling currents around him, he tucked his legs up and held his breath. He gazed up at the ship’s stem and into the eyes of a startled sailor who was in the process of dumping trash overboard. The sailor waved to let Schick know he had been spotted.
___________ As the Nassau continued her turn, and the distance between him and the ship increased, Schick knew he had survived his ordeal. He needed only to await his rescue.
With the ship no longer a threat, he focused on the whirring sound emanating from the blades of a nearby helicopter. He began to realize why the Nassau had turned in the right direction. The earlier incident had, in fact, gone unobserved because of the angle of his trajectory. But the pilot of the helicopter—always airborne during flight operations in case of an emergency—had fortunately reported Schick’s position to the Nassau.
Within seconds the helicopter was hovering directly overhead, and a diver jumped into the water to assess Schick’s condition. He proceeded to cut away the parachute cords and motioned for a “horse collar” to be lowered from the helicopter. He positioned the collar securely around Schick’s upper body. The hovering aircraft then pulled in the injured pilot and headed for the flight deck of the Nassau.
The shock of what Schick had just experienced finally hit him. He became very cold and started to shake uncontrollably. Where he had been able to think clearly during his struggle against death, he now felt dazed and disoriented.
The helicopter touched down. Two of Schick s fellow Marines pushed the Navy flight deck personnel aside to climb on board the chopper and carry him off. As they started to take him out of the helicopter, they could see his condition was deteriorating quickly. One ot the Marines, a crusty old salt not given much to emotion, had a tear in his eye. Though junior to Schick, he did not hesitate to bark out his order not to die. “You’ve got a ki coming,” was his final plea to spurthe fading pilot,
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medical personnel carted him off. Schick managed a
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More than a decade after his brush with death, “underwater hull inspector" Schick lives with his family in Washington, D.C. Here—he visits the Vietnam Memorial with son Robbie.
COURTESY OF R. SCHICK
partial smile of acknowledgement.
Lady Luck continued to smile on Schick. Remarkably, within two days after the accident, with the exception of his broken leg, he had recovered fully. The leg had to be placed in a full cast.
While recovering in the ship’s infirmary, Schick received a visitor, the Nassau’s commanding officer, who made two presentations to him. The first was a very official-looking document, done in calligraphy, which proclaimed to make 1st Lieutenant Schick the Nassau’s underwater hull inspector." The second was a Nassau scrap book, which contained some unique pictures of the ship. Included were two photographs emphasizing that he was lucky to be alive. Both photos, one of the bow and one of the stern, were taken while the ship was in dry dock during construction. These shots, with shipyard personnel in the foreground, vividly illustrated the behemoth size of the Nassau's bow and propellers that he had encountered.
A board of inquiry into the accident revealed that 1st Lieutenant Schick had performed properly in his efforts to abort the take off. The board also noted that while Schick had only been flying for two years, his relative inexperience was not a factor. Even a more experienced pilot would have had difficulty in getting the aircraft under control in this situation. Thus, responsibility for the loss appeared to be attributed to some type of mechanical problem. And, with the aircraft now resting on the ocean floor, the exact cause of that problem will never be known.
Upon Schick’s return home, the manufacturer of the ejection setit that he had occupied on that fateful day in April 1981 called for an interview. The manufacturer, Stencil Aerospace, commissioned an artist to do an oil pamting rendition of Schick’s experience. The company asked him, t° name the artwork—which he titled, simply- Survival —and asked him to autograph 100 copies of
Qe0fnntinS',The comPany then gave them away at the 1981 Paris Air Show. One now hangs on a wall in the Schick home.
In the dozen years since this event, life for Schick has had its share of ups and downs. But for him, the downs, perhaps, are m better perspective. For when adversity comes knocking on his door, Bill Schick simply reflects upon the painting hanging on his wall.
There is something about the memory of having cheated death by surviving the ordeal of having been run over by a 40,000-ton ship. It makes one realize quickly that most of life s other adversities pale in comparison.
Lieutenant Colonel Zumwalt is the author of the Desert Storm story "Tanks! Tanks! Direct Front!” in the July 1992 issue of Proceedings^ He is currently an attorney in Reston, Virginia, who is also at work on a book about Rear Admiral Tran Von Chon, chief of the South Vietnamese Navy, which will focus in part on Chon’s relationship with Zumwalt’s father, Admiral Elmo R. Zumwalt, Jr., during the Vietnam War.
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