TRADOC Pam 525-3-7-01 - TRADOC - U.S. Army

TRADOC Pam 525-3-7-01unwieldy anchor. Simultaneously, holding his breath he unsnapped his chin and facemask strapletting the helmet pull away in the current. He’d miss it, but that didn’t cross his nearly panicstrickenmind. Next he tried to cut loose the equipment bag, but the D-ring was so taut that hecouldn’t get it free. He popped the snaps on his Kevlar vest and shrugged out of it swallowing amouthful of the river in the process. Nearly blue and close to passing out, he kicked with all hecould rolling to his back in the hopes the pull of the weapons bag would bring him to the surface.His face popped above the water and as he gulped for air he took on more of the river, gagged,and threw up.Millsaps felt himself losing strength fast as his oxygen-starved brain began to shut downfunctions. He rolled again and reached for the bottom with his feet, his head now a foot underwater. Touching bottom he flexed his legs and thrust with his whole might toward the surface,much as he’d learned in survival swimming. When his head cleared the surface he spit, thrashedhis arms to stay above water and gasping for a breath of air. It was barely enough as he sankagain, the current and his weapons bag pulling him under. He tried to plane his body forward inthe blackness and execute another bob. It was one thing to do it in a pool with lifeguards and yetanother in Sumatra at night.The second bob bought him another gulp of sweet air. Somehow he had to get to the shore orcatch flotation. He tugged at the weapons bag strap thinking about cutting it with his survivalknife strapped to his leg. Not much chance of that. Instead, Woodrow tried to reel in thewaterproof bag. If he could get to it, it just might hold him up.As the lieutenant struggled for his life, his company cleared the runways at the internationalairport. Millsaps was not the only missing paratrooper, but his platoon sergeant sent a digitalquery to the network. Instantly, the system queried Millsap’s tracker, locking on a moving icondead in the center of the Mandau River. “Not much hope for the lad,” the older sergeant thoughtremorsefully, “and one of the best I’ve trained,” he said looking at the screen with more than alittle anguish before forwarding a message to the company that would initiate a search andrescue operation.Millsaps’ strength was ebbing from all the kicking and pulling on the strap. He managed toget the cursed bag under his chest and passed out with his head barely above water. He wasn’tout long. A wave or wake washed over him, knocking him off the bag and running it out to theend of the strap again. The water roused him. He was angry now. Great-grandfather Millsapswas a hero at Saint Mère Eglise, and his grandfather won the Silver Star in action with the 82 ndin the Phu Bai, Hue region in Vietnam. Here he was about to drown ignominiously without firinga shot at the enemy!He tugged the bag back and snapped it to his combat uniform with the D-ring on hisintegrated shoulder armor pad. He used his right arm and scissor kicks to work his way out ofthe main current toward one of the shores—he didn’t care which. As he struggled he began tosee lights, lots of them, and realized he was getting close to the capital. With what seemed likehis last ounce of energy Woody thrust his legs and arms in a half-coordinated sidestroke thatpropelled him out of the current for a brief second. His knee struck something, a rock or piling.96