Ambo Loves Me, Ambo Loves Me Not...

This one isn't mine. Photo credit goes to DA Drew (though I actually took the picture). This is our group out at Happy Camper enjoying some conversation and hot drinks at our kitchen table which was carved from the snow. To me, it's a little reminiscent of da Vinci's "The Last Supper". I'll leave it up to you if you think so, too.


This place is really starting to look like the Antarctica that everyone imagines. The wind has been blowing, the snow has been falling, and the skies have been gray and dismal. The temperature has even been dropping in kind, making has what seemed like the artificial summer warmth of about 40F turn into what it should have always been.

It's been five days since we've seen the sun. It's been almost five days since we've seen the last C-17 come down to the Ice to bring us mail and freshies. The people working over in housing have been going crazy trying to find places for everyone to stay because of these delays. (They also don't like it that we know before them when flights are coming and going or if they've been canceled due to the weather.) Many are scheduled to be leaving, including two of our own.

One of my fellow "A" shifters is going home. He'll be missed by the guys here. He's been one of our more entertaining characters since Denver, and it will certainly make for a shift in the group dynamics.

The other one leaving is our Deputy Chief. Due to budgeting changes, he's returning to the Denver office as our Chief returns to the Ice. Though I never really got to know him well personally (If I'm interacting with anyone greater than two ranks above me, it's rarely a good thing.), I wish him the best to returning to the real world and reintegrating with "normal" society.

Even though the weather has been bad and the Hercs and seventeens have been grounded, it hasn't been uneventful for us here. We've made the best of the time physically isolated from the rest of the world by getting some training in.

Ever since we left Denver, we've been making slow but steady progress towards completing our job performance requirements that are needed to get our IFSAC certs completed.

Tuesday was my Kelly day, but I came in on my off day to get my C-130 training completed. In order to get out to Pegasus for the training, myself and three others who were on shift at Station 1 piled into Ambo 2, fresh out of the heavy shop from its round of preventative maintenance.

We all piled into our antiquated Ford gutbox and rattled our way down past Scott Base and onto the Ice Road. As we settled into the semi-consistent rumbling and sliding down the road, we made ourselves comfortable. I sprawled out on the cot while one of the other guys, a Seattleite, laid out on the bench seat. We traded idle chatter back and forth passing the time. Eventually, we became distracted.

It just kept shaking. It sounded like one of the shelves wanted to rattle loose with the medical bag hammering against it. We thought it was a little unusual, but considering the composition of the road and the general condition of things here, it didn't seem beyond the realm of normal.

Apparently, it had begun to exceed the realm of normal for the two guys up front (separated from us by a window) and they stopped our off road ambulance. After a brief inspection by the driver, he returned to his seat and put the unit back in motion.

It didn't go away, though. It didn't take long for the sound to change, either.

The weird vibration returned as soon as the wheels started turning again. It didn't last long. Perhaps fifty, maybe a hundred feet. Suddenly, the rumble turned into a pop-clunk, at which time all motion ceased.

Turning to the Seahawk fan next to me, I said "there goes the drive shaft".

After getting out of the back of the unit, it didn't take long to confirm my suspicions. Glancing under the unit, the rear drive shaft could be seen pointing up from its hanger and its shattered yoke making contact with the belly of the truck. Looking to the rear of the transmission, the yoke on the output shaft could be seen spinning methodically along as it seemed content to just churn the air.

In some ways, it's kind of sad to realize that I have the knowledge to know just by the sound of something breaking what has broken. Guess that means I've broken my fair share of things up to now. Too bad I'm only really good at fixing the things that I can put a wrench on, and not some of the other things I've broken in life.

To continue, we were stuck. While we tried to get the derelict Ford to move on just the front axle, it didn't have enough weight on it to drag the heavy box end through the snow. Not that it would have mattered much in the end as it would have been extremely difficult to secure the severed rear shaft to keep it from flailing about destructively.

With notifications made to both the firehouse and Fleet Ops and with a short photo and movie opportunity of the damage completed, we entered into a standard "hurry up and wait" formation. We all resumed our seats (or makeshift beds, as were available) and proceeded to make idle chatter and guess who would arrive first, our Captain, Fleet Ops, or a Shuttle to carry us on our way.

My guess was for our Cap to make it out first. As part of our idle chatter, myself and the Seahawk fan took guesses as to what his first words would be when we saw him next. We both agreed that it would sound something like, "Grant, how'd you break my ambulance?"

After our chatter died down we dozed off again. A fairly easy task when you're splayed out comfortably in a warm ambulance that's not rattling down the road. About an hour into our motionless wait, I started to wake up wondering why the ground was shaking. Coming to, I noticed a massive red-orange Delta pulling up past us.

Luckily for us, Shuttle ? was kind enough to pick up four errant hitchhikers. We grabbed our gear and climbed up in the back and were greeted by a small group of Air Guard guys on their way to Pegasus. They seemed somewhat amused at our predicament. With the door closed and the rear steps folded up, we were off again, leaving our still running Ambulance II coughing and hacking for Fleet Ops to magic carpet off to the heavy shop.

After a slightly delayed arrival out at the Crash Shack (and having to run a gauntlet of snowball fire both from janos Diesel and Ghandi and our own firefighters), we met up with Lt. Grandpa and the rest of the "Deuce Crew" for our training. We loaded up into three of the Renegades and made our way out to the flight line to finally get a closer look at the Hercs we'd been protecting.

After pulling up, the crew chief from Skier Maintenance had yet to arrive, so we started the exterior tour without him. Instead of me giving boring technical material to you, I'll pass over it and just say that it was informative and interesting. I learned a few things that I didn't know previously and was grateful for Lt. Grandpa's expertise and knowledge in the field.

After the crew chief finally arrived, we continued our walkthrough of the aircraft and flight deck. We were given the chance to play with most of the doors on the aircraft (a significant technical detail to people who need to get in quickly during an emergency) and look over proper flight deck shutdown procedures.

A few things of note regarding the LC-130. First of all, this variant has the ability to land either on wheels or on retractable skis. The skis give it the "L" designation. Next, I'd like to point out that I was surprised by how small the actual aircraft seemed once we were able to get up close to it. Stepping inside, I realized how cramped it really was. With a few pallets of cargo and some people, the aircraft could easily become very tight.

Additionally, I thought it of interest to note how simple the flight deck was. As opposed to many of the newer aircraft that we saw in Denver and even in contrast to the C-17, the cockpit of the snub nosed Herc seemed exceptionally basic, incorporating a combination of modern glass cockpit technology and classic steam gauges.

Lastly, a final quirk that I noted was that each of the props, save one, had a small image stenciled on it. Two of them had an image of a fire breathing dragon while a third had a raven on it. After inquiring with the crew chief, I discovered that this was done to show who had last rebuilt the props and is comparable to an artist signing his painting.

Our tour complete and our thanks given to the Raven Ops crew chief, we piled back into our Renegades and threw snow from our tracks as we returned to the Crash Shack. Our training complete, myself and the rest of the group that I was with piled back up on a Delta of the little known McMurdo Area Rapid Transit system. Our journey back was slightly shorter than our ride out.

As we walked back into the firehouse five hours later as opposed to the three hour tour we were expecting, it didn't take long for our Captain to find me. The following is roughly what was said. I apologize for the use of quotes for paraphrasing.

"Grant!"
"Yo, Cap."
"I knew it was you as soon as I heard it. You broke the ambulance."
"How'd I break it, Cap? I was sleeping on the cot in the back."
"I've already got that figured out. Since you were the fourth one on it, you overloaded it and caused the drive shaft to break."
"That's a bit of a stretch."
"I know, but I'm still blaming you."

I turn to the Seahawk fan.

"I told you I'd get blamed for this."
"That you did."

That pretty much summed up my day off. Not much of a break, but I don't really like too much of one, anyway. Besides, very few fun stories stem from idleness.


Jumping back ahead to today, I have another brief recap.

The bells have actually been ringing today. By the time I finished this, we had three calls for alarms, one medevac, and an in-flight emergency for a Herc with an engine out (not an unusual occurrence). In short, it began to feel like a slow day back home.

I spent much of my day tucked up under both of our engines. I had been given the simple task to rattle can some bright color on the air reservoirs for the brake system as to make them more visible for new drivers as they can be hard to spot.

I, of course, went the extra mile on this mundane task and created a lovely silver and Cat yellow striped pattern.

Overkill? Absolutely. But it gave me something to do that required some creative effort.

As the day progressed, we received word that a flight had actually made it out after several days of being grounded. The Skier was going to Pole and returning with a medevac. This necessitated that an ambulance go out to Pegasus, pick up the patient and waiting medical crew, and return.

Since I was assigned to Ambo 1 for the shift, it fell to me.

After some last minute ambulance juggling (We almost put Scat 1 in service as Ambo 3), Ambo 2 magically reappeared from its trip to the heavy shop with a reattached drive shaft.

With a mild groan on my part, I loaded up and headed out.

It's a long drive out to Pegasus. It's even longer when you're driving alone in a truck that broke down on you just a couple of days before. With the radio tuned to Radio Lolo on Ice 104.5 (Yes, we have a real radio station here.) I slipped, slopped, and rumbled through the rock of the transition and the snow of the ice road.

After finally making it out and meeting up with an arriving LC-130 with my patient and medical team, I loaded up with four and headed back out.

The drive out had been long and fairly dull, though it was kind of a nice break from the routine we can easily fall into here. The ride back, though not exciting, was still fun.

I had an Air Force medical guy ride shotgun with me, and we had a good chat on the way back (especially welcome as Radio Lolo had ended and the canned pop-garbage of the Armed Forces Radio network had returned). It turned out he was from Guam, was stationed in Okinawa, and his missions typically consisted of two week stints to Hawaii.

Maybe I need to join the Air Force.

As the miles started to pass by, I came up on a Delta parked off on the side of the road. At first, I thought they had broken down. As I came closer, I discovered the real reason for their unscheduled stop. Penguins.

There were three Emperor Penguins busy waddling down the road. An unusual sight to say the least, and one certainly worthy of stopping to see. While the Delta was able to stop with its passengers to take a closer look, I couldn't.

While I was sorely tempted to stop and get a better look at the last bit of Antarctic wildlife I hadn't checked off my list yet, I couldn't in good conscience stop for a photo op while a cranky patient and tired medical crew sat in the back. Instead, I just drove by very, very slowly. Sadly, I have no photos to show for it, though the penguins were amusing.

After finally making it back into town, we offloaded the patient and finally went back to the station for the night. At which point, I began typing this up and relating to you my various adventures.

Now, at the concluding of said typing, a nice warm bunk awaits me in the gen-pop bunkroom.

More to come later.