The Sunnyvale Sun

Cover Story

Life Savers

Local airmen are ready to drop in when called

By Cody Kraatz

Even with earplugs, the four monstrous propellers produce a brain-rattling moan as the hulking MC-130P Combat Shadow taxis down the runway at Moffett Field.

The California Air National Guard 129th Rescue Wing, one of three of its kind in the United States, is going on a training mission on. It frequently flies planes and helicopters over the South Bay, preparing for search and rescue missions and potential deployment overseas.

On this Nov. 20 mission, five pararescuemen--parajumpers or "PJs," who are trained as paramedics for the worst of conditions--recline with their feet up and their eyes closed. There are two bunks, used during long missions, over their heads.

The rest of the crew grabs cargo nets or whatever is nearby as the plane surges, grinds and roars toward takeoff. With no visual reference in the windowless interior, the g-forces are the only indication the plane is leaving the ground.

The aircraft circles around, bisects the runways at the Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport, and heads west. Minutes later, the University of California, Santa Cruz appears among the redwoods below. The Boardwalk and municipal wharf appear on the left, and the crew in the cockpit ends a radio conversation about expensive haircuts in Los Gatos to enjoy the view.

"Ah, it's such a beautiful day," says Capt. Michael Wagle, the pilot. "There are a couple of guys out there surfing at Steamers [Lane]," he says referring to a popular Santa Cruz surf spot.

Training mission

The crew is headed for the dirt Schoonover airstrip at Fort Hunter Liggett, an Army base west of King City.

The aircraft flies south over the ocean for several minutes and then turns sharply inland around Big Sur to begin low-level maneuvers. Wagle ducks and dives the 40-year-old but meticulously maintained plane, hugging the contours of the mountains at about 800 feet.

The ability to fly evasively through rugged terrain would be critical in combat rescue missions in Afghanistan, where 70 129th Rescue Wing airmen were stationed until September.

The g-forces are so strong during banking and acceleration that your brain feels like it's being squeezed to the bottom of your skull, like your eyeballs are being rolled down in their sockets. You can barely stay up if you are standing, much less lift your foot to take a step, and a sharp dive can lift you off the deck.

The wording on the outside of the motion sickness bags had the following admonition: "Do not be embarrassed by this precaution as even veteran travelers are subject to occasional motion sickness."

The radio operator and one of the PJs use the bags.

The plane touches down at Schoonover in the early afternoon, creating a dust storm, and Tech. Sgt. Lejon Boudreaux, 30, a Palo Alto pararescueman, drives off the ramp on a four-wheeler. He was active duty U.S. Air Force for four years and has been with the 129th for eight years.

The plane quickly takes off again, and the area is dry and silent, with only a herd of elk west of the airstrip.

Soon, the plane roars overhead and drops a pallet with a parachute designed to simulate a load of gear, called a pet rock. The ground crew--Capt. Norbert Puzia, Boudreaux and Capt. Chris Nance--loads it in a big Ford truck that later rolls into the plane.

The plane climbs, and soon the five PJs--tiny black dots in the sky--jump at 13,000 feet, stick together in free fall, and pop their parachutes at 3,500 feet. They look like jellyfish against the clear blue sky as they float down. One by one they land in the vicinity of a yellow target set up on the ground.

"You can just fly around," said Master Sgt. Eric Degner, the flight's jumpmaster, as the PJs stuffed their chutes back in their bags. They maneuver "like Superman, using your hands, feet and legs."

The plane lands, and the crew rapidly loads and secures the truck and four-wheeler for the flight home, another low-level, gut-wrenching trip north toward Los Banos, over San Luis Reservoir and back into the South Bay.

Combat mission

The other two rescue wings are in Alaska and New York, leaving the 129th responsible for the Western states.

Usually, they rescue civilians, but during wartime, like now, they are regularly called to such places as Afghanistan, Iraq or Djibouti to rescue downed pilots and special operations troops behind enemy lines.

"Most of our missions are at night so the bad guys can't see you," said Puzia.

In combat zones, they typically go in under cover of darkness at low altitude with two of the 129th's six HH-60G Pave Hawk helicopters--one to provide cover fire, the other to extract the pilot.

The PJs, who form the 131st Rescue Squadron stationed with the 129th, are like the average ambulance paramedic, except they are trained to descend from a helicopter on a rope in high seas, jump from a plane at 13,000 feet, or even scuba dive to make a rescue. And under fire, if necessary.

"They're equivalent to Navy SEALs. They're special forces," said Puzia.

Some of these extractions are extremely dangerous, reinforcing the Air Force rescue forces motto, "That others may live."

"I was kind of bored, and I wanted to do something fun and rewarding," says Senior Airman Mark Finney, 35, a PJ from Pleasanton. He left a job in sales and joined the 129th four years ago. The training takes about two years.

Senior Airman Mickey Chan, 28, a San Francisco resident and biology student, has been a PJ for two to three years. A quiet man with short black hair and a short, sturdy build, he snoozed unfazed for most of the recent training flight.

On Sept. 11, 2006, he jumped with American flags above Djibouti in memory of those who had died five years before.

Stateside mission

Stateside, the 129th is frequently called on to rescue lost hikers and ships in distress.

"Typically our bread and butter mission is to fly...out into the ocean, pick up someone sick and bring them back," said Staff Sgt. Andrew Hughan, a 129th spokesman said in September while waiting for rescue wing members to fly in from Afghanistan. "It's six hours of boredom followed by six minutes of excitement."

The 129th's four MC-130s, which have a very long range, can extend hoses out the back to the Pave Hawks, which have 21-foot extendable refueling booms, filling their tanks at 110 knots, about 130 miles per hour, as low as 500 feet.

This gives the 129th a range of 600 to 700 miles with the helicopters, farther than U.S. Coast Guard, which is limited to about 200 miles off the coast, said Hughan. The 129th has helped people as far as 1,400 miles out to sea using the MC-130, dropping PJs with an inflatable raft and then picking them up with a helicopter when the boat came closer to land.

The 129th, with 940 members from all over the West, has saved 558 people. It is actively recruiting, with a double-sided billboard on Highway 101 near Moffett.

"We have a huge area to take care of. The whole Pacific Ocean is our responsibility," said Hughan. "We want people who can live within a half hour and can get here. We don't want people in Sacramento because we have fires in Southern California, we have earthquakes."

In fact, on Oct. 26 the 129th dispatched two helicopters and 16 airmen to the Los Alamitos Army Airfield in late October to support search and rescue operations during the Southern California wildfires.

Also, on Nov. 17, the 129th responded to a Santa Clara County Sheriff call with a Pave Hawk and crew to search for a 15-year-old autistic boy in the mountains west of Morgan Hill. They did not find him in the area they were given to search, but he was found in a ravine the next morning.

The 129th maintains its skills with endless hours of training in the air and on the ground, and remains ready to rescue at a moment's notice.

To learn more about the 129th Rescue Wing, visit www.129rqw. ca.ang.af.mil.