I noticed the ambulance as I drove to work. It didn't continue up the main road as most do, but turned through the barriers guarding the entrance to the flightline and continued to the FOD check point. Odd, that. We didn't have an Aeromedical Evacuation (AE) until tomorrow. I flicked on my radio and heard the chatter common to an AE, so instead of walking into my office I headed down to the Air Terminal Operations Center (ATOC) to see what was up.
The controllers in ATOC informed me that the patient scheduled for tomorrow's departure was critical and would be leaving as soon as she could be transported to the aircraft. The ambulance I'd seen had brought a new ventilator unit; the patient was en route. With that, I grabbed some "foamie" ear protectors and caught a ride to the AE KC-135.
My ATOC rampco was waiting at the aircraft, seeing to the details. A 60K loader sat ready nearby, it's big turbodiesel engine purring like some huge lion. The 60K is typically used for uploading and downloading up to six standard 463L pallets at a time. When the old C-9 medevac aircraft was in operation a big loader wasn't necessary, but now that those have been phased out and the KC-135 has taken over the AE mission we need some way of moving patients vertically to the high side-mounted door in the KC-135. The 60K, while not a great solution, is nevertheless the one most often used. For this mission, we had flipped the roller trays over to provide a somewhat flatter, safer floor for the medical team.
As we spotted the 60K into position word came that the patient had in fact not left the hospital. The surgeons were trying to stabilize her enough to survive the transport and flight to Hawaii. I felt a slight chill as the magnitude of our mission hit me. Although my port's role in the overall mission was small, it was an integral part of this lifesaving effort. I whispered a prayer for the surgeons and the patient, and we sat down to wait for their arrival.
The sun shone down from a hot tropical sky onto the acres of concrete ramp. Two Navy C-2s and a C-21 came in with minor requirements from the aerial port. We waited. There would be no delay once the ambulance showed. The minutes ticked by. Time seemed to slow, as if nature waited for word of the patient's survival.
The radio chirped. "ATOC, TR1 (that's me)." "Go ahead, ATOC." "Be advised, patient is en route, ETA 10 minutes." "Copy, 10 minutes," I said. The loader rumbled to life. ATOC-4 briefed the crew as I settled the final details with the load team. The ambulance arrived and backed into its position about 10 feet from the end of the loader. The medical teams consulted for a bit and then we got the thumbs-up to begin the delicate task of moving the patient from the ambulance to the loader.
The ambulance doors open. At this point I know nothing about the patient. The litter is piled with blankets and equipment. It seems impossible that there could be a person under there, and for a moment I think it's a child. As the litter moves out I see the patient is an adult, tubes everywhere, eyes half-open but not moving. The dull eyes of a heavily sedated person, unseeing and uncaring in the bright sunlight.
I'm on the deck of the loader, waiting to take the patient from those on the ground. We lift her gently, then move her to the front of the loader where we all kneel in preparation for the lift. I help a family member on board and show him where to kneel until we're in position. The loader's engine, designed to lift sixty thousand pounds of cargo, spins up and we rise slowly to the door of the aircraft. It has never lifted anything more precious. The crew goes into action, swiftly moving the patient and accompanying bags onto the aircraft. Our job done, the loader settles back down to the ground, is spotted away, and departs for the KC-130 that just landed.
The KC-135 takes off while I'm busy with the KC-130 cargo and crew. It's only later that I can stop and contemplate what we accomplished. Although this wasn't the first AE mission I'd personally worked, it was the first critical litter patient I'd touched, cared for, and watched over. I was humbled to be a small part of what I hope was a successful lifesaving mission.
People ask why I like working in the Air Mobility Command (AMC) so much. The hours are long, we fly 24-7, 365 days a year, and fighters are much sexier. They can keep 'em. It's missions like these that make working for AMC so rewarding.
