Courage.
You're a 19 year old kid.
You're critically wounded and dying in the jungle somewhere in the Central Highlands of Viet Nam.
It's November 11, 1967.
LZ (landing zone) X-ray.
Your unit is outnumbered 8-1 and the enemy fire is so intense, from 100 yards away, that your CO (commanding officer) has ordered the MedEvac helicopters to stop coming in.
You're lying there, listening to the enemy machine guns and you know you're not getting out.
Your family is half way around the world, 12,000 miles away, and you'll never see the m again.
As the world starts to fade in and out, you know this is the day.
Then - over the machine gun noise - you faintly hear that sound of a helicopter.
You look up to see a Huey coming in. But ... It doesn't seem real because no MedEvac markings are on it.
Captain Ed Freeman is coming in for you.
He's not MedEvac so it's not his job, but he heard the radio call and decided he's flying his Huey down into the machine gun fire anyway.
Even after the MedEvacs were ordered not to come. He's coming anyway.
And he drops it in and sits there in the machine gun fire, as they load 3of you at a time on board.
Then he flies you up and out through the gunfire to the doctors and nurses and safety.
And, he kept coming back!! 13 more times!!
Until all the wounded were out. No one knew until the mission was over that the Captain had been hit 4 times in the legs and left arm.
He took 29 of you and your buddies out that day. Some would not have made it without the Captain and his Huey.
Medal of Honor Recipient, Captain Ed Freeman, United States Air Force, died last Wednesday, June 9th, 2010 at the age of 70, in Boise, Idaho.
May God Bless and Rest His Soul.
Sometimes we all need heroes and he truly is one of the finest.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
A Moment of Navy Nostalgia
Dear Friends and Family:
This is why I personally loved the Navy - not so much the time at sea - Congress saw to that, [although I have been on every class of submarine made except Seawolf] but the other aspects,the commradere aspects of being able to count on each other and caring deeply about who we are to each other and the difference each of us can make. Brian Reynolds of Greenfish brings back special memories for Troy and I since we "courted" on Greenfish and watched her go from USS Greenfish (SS351) to becoming the SS Amazonas, a Brailizan ship on a very, very, very cold day in Groton CT in December 1973. What a great 20 years. . . love, Tina
-------------------------------------------------------------------
As the good times grow better over the years, the hard times fade; if we
let them. But the hard times, and the way we behaved then, are what have
made us what we are now. The monotony of endless mid-watches is easily
put aside when one remembers the glory of the night sky unbesmerched by any
lights. The fear of being swept away by seas high enough to break over
the tops of the periscopes dims besides the feelings of breaking free and
feeling the deck throb beneath your feet as the diesels drive the boat
forward. Endless hours on station, routine boredom broken by contact as
word was passed "break out the fire control tracking party" then more
endless hours as we, in our war, maneuvered away from those who would do
us harm; or close aboard if something new was seen and our interest peaked.
Times when, because of who we were and where we were, the opportunity to
pull fresh air through the snorkel was not given; After many, many hours
each step was labored as carbon dioxide increased and oxygen decreased -
a match struck quickly goes out, not enough air. Like old men burdened
with emphysema, we young men would labor to walk to our bunks; six feet, then
panting, rest a moment before waking a bit more. Watch stranders in the
Engine rooms and Maneuvering ask "What's the situation?" With wry humor
the reply would be "We have them surrounded" as we set next to them on
the bench momentarily to catch our breath. Early in the morning word would be passed "Prepare to snorkel, two main engines." The room watches would prepare their compartments, unlocking valves so they could be opened, opening sea values, oil valves, intake and exhaust vales; making the boat ready to refresh itself. "Commence snorkeling" and the diesels would growl and grumble to life, sucking air from the boat, pulling air down through the induction line, pushing water out through the exhaust system, and ears would pop as the altimeter
climbed a few thousand feet. The low pressure blower would start and surround
the boat in a protective coating of sound deadening bubbles; the engines
would settle into a steady beat as energy flowed into the batteries; to be
saved there and used carefully - a precious resource.
At times of inattention, the snorkel intake head valve would be pulled below the surface and in a reflexive moment, close tightly with a thud; to save the boat from being flooded. The diesels didn't care that there was no more air coming down the tube, they did what only they could do, pulling air from the inside of the boat, mixing it with a fine mist of fuel, and then squeezing it until it
exploded; the pressure of the exhaust laboring against the pressure of the sea as the exhaust was pushed to the surface. The altimeter would start to climb, quickly spinning as if in a climbing plane. The planesmen would labor to bring the boat back to the surface, urged on by exaltations of the diving officer who was not much older then they. "Jesus you guys can't do anything right get us back up damn it but if you broach I'll make sure you're a mess cook for life."
Men asleep gasp like fish pulled from the water, mouth full open in their
sleep to relieve the pressure in their ears, as the altimeter spun upwards;
11,000, 12,000, 13,000. The planesmen working to get the intake valve
above the surface again, but only just above the surface. Too high, and
it might be noticed - this would bring unwanted attention because of who we
were, and where we were. The boat settles deeper and the altimeter spins, 14,000, 15,000, and the high altitude safety shuts the engines down before
hypoxia can come to visit The Low Pressure blower falls silent as the
boat sinks quietly deeper. Inside is the pressure at the top of a
mountain, but no fresh air as the last gasps of the diesels belch smoke
into the submarine, and the air is filled with the foul spent breath of the
engines. "Flame out" is muttered, and the planesmen are cursed by all aboard.
In a few moment control is regained, the head valve is pushed free of the water and opens, air rushes back into the submarine pulled by the pressure from the top of a mountain. Faster than an airplane can dive, the altimeter spins from 15,000 to 0, ear drums are pressed tightly inward, perhaps to tear because the pressure inside the head cannot be equalized quickly enough. Sleepers awake, some pulled suddenly from deep slumber, confused as to where they are and what has occurred, gasping for air, with both ears throbbing from the change in pressure. "Commence snorkeling" For a few moments the routine had been broken, now it is again established. Routine is good, routine is uneventful, routine
will get you home. Then there is the smell of fresh air when the hatch is opened for the first time after a long period submerged, the smell of death as all that had found a home in the watery superstructure when it was below the surface,
in their world, die, dry, and began to rot in the hot sun. The boat is
submerged briefly to wash the remnants of life away as inside the ship is cleared, scrubbed, made ready for port. A quick shower is allowed, not enough water, too quick, but the feeling of running water over the skin welcome and sensuous.
The smell of land after a long time at sea, the feel of the pier the
first time you step off the brow after a patrol. The long time under a hot
shower thinking, as the dirt, grime, and smells washes away, that feeling
you didn't want to do that again - but ready to go the next time, perhaps.
The shipmates we knew and became close to. Those we wanted never to see again, but feel a sense of loss at their passing. Meeting again after the passing years to share memories of the good times, bad times scarcely mentioned, comrades again as we remember who we were, when we were Sailors.
Brian Reynolds
USS Greenfish (SS-351)
This is why I personally loved the Navy - not so much the time at sea - Congress saw to that, [although I have been on every class of submarine made except Seawolf] but the other aspects,the commradere aspects of being able to count on each other and caring deeply about who we are to each other and the difference each of us can make. Brian Reynolds of Greenfish brings back special memories for Troy and I since we "courted" on Greenfish and watched her go from USS Greenfish (SS351) to becoming the SS Amazonas, a Brailizan ship on a very, very, very cold day in Groton CT in December 1973. What a great 20 years. . . love, Tina
-------------------------------------------------------------------
As the good times grow better over the years, the hard times fade; if we
let them. But the hard times, and the way we behaved then, are what have
made us what we are now. The monotony of endless mid-watches is easily
put aside when one remembers the glory of the night sky unbesmerched by any
lights. The fear of being swept away by seas high enough to break over
the tops of the periscopes dims besides the feelings of breaking free and
feeling the deck throb beneath your feet as the diesels drive the boat
forward. Endless hours on station, routine boredom broken by contact as
word was passed "break out the fire control tracking party" then more
endless hours as we, in our war, maneuvered away from those who would do
us harm; or close aboard if something new was seen and our interest peaked.
Times when, because of who we were and where we were, the opportunity to
pull fresh air through the snorkel was not given; After many, many hours
each step was labored as carbon dioxide increased and oxygen decreased -
a match struck quickly goes out, not enough air. Like old men burdened
with emphysema, we young men would labor to walk to our bunks; six feet, then
panting, rest a moment before waking a bit more. Watch stranders in the
Engine rooms and Maneuvering ask "What's the situation?" With wry humor
the reply would be "We have them surrounded" as we set next to them on
the bench momentarily to catch our breath. Early in the morning word would be passed "Prepare to snorkel, two main engines." The room watches would prepare their compartments, unlocking valves so they could be opened, opening sea values, oil valves, intake and exhaust vales; making the boat ready to refresh itself. "Commence snorkeling" and the diesels would growl and grumble to life, sucking air from the boat, pulling air down through the induction line, pushing water out through the exhaust system, and ears would pop as the altimeter
climbed a few thousand feet. The low pressure blower would start and surround
the boat in a protective coating of sound deadening bubbles; the engines
would settle into a steady beat as energy flowed into the batteries; to be
saved there and used carefully - a precious resource.
At times of inattention, the snorkel intake head valve would be pulled below the surface and in a reflexive moment, close tightly with a thud; to save the boat from being flooded. The diesels didn't care that there was no more air coming down the tube, they did what only they could do, pulling air from the inside of the boat, mixing it with a fine mist of fuel, and then squeezing it until it
exploded; the pressure of the exhaust laboring against the pressure of the sea as the exhaust was pushed to the surface. The altimeter would start to climb, quickly spinning as if in a climbing plane. The planesmen would labor to bring the boat back to the surface, urged on by exaltations of the diving officer who was not much older then they. "Jesus you guys can't do anything right get us back up damn it but if you broach I'll make sure you're a mess cook for life."
Men asleep gasp like fish pulled from the water, mouth full open in their
sleep to relieve the pressure in their ears, as the altimeter spun upwards;
11,000, 12,000, 13,000. The planesmen working to get the intake valve
above the surface again, but only just above the surface. Too high, and
it might be noticed - this would bring unwanted attention because of who we
were, and where we were. The boat settles deeper and the altimeter spins, 14,000, 15,000, and the high altitude safety shuts the engines down before
hypoxia can come to visit The Low Pressure blower falls silent as the
boat sinks quietly deeper. Inside is the pressure at the top of a
mountain, but no fresh air as the last gasps of the diesels belch smoke
into the submarine, and the air is filled with the foul spent breath of the
engines. "Flame out" is muttered, and the planesmen are cursed by all aboard.
In a few moment control is regained, the head valve is pushed free of the water and opens, air rushes back into the submarine pulled by the pressure from the top of a mountain. Faster than an airplane can dive, the altimeter spins from 15,000 to 0, ear drums are pressed tightly inward, perhaps to tear because the pressure inside the head cannot be equalized quickly enough. Sleepers awake, some pulled suddenly from deep slumber, confused as to where they are and what has occurred, gasping for air, with both ears throbbing from the change in pressure. "Commence snorkeling" For a few moments the routine had been broken, now it is again established. Routine is good, routine is uneventful, routine
will get you home. Then there is the smell of fresh air when the hatch is opened for the first time after a long period submerged, the smell of death as all that had found a home in the watery superstructure when it was below the surface,
in their world, die, dry, and began to rot in the hot sun. The boat is
submerged briefly to wash the remnants of life away as inside the ship is cleared, scrubbed, made ready for port. A quick shower is allowed, not enough water, too quick, but the feeling of running water over the skin welcome and sensuous.
The smell of land after a long time at sea, the feel of the pier the
first time you step off the brow after a patrol. The long time under a hot
shower thinking, as the dirt, grime, and smells washes away, that feeling
you didn't want to do that again - but ready to go the next time, perhaps.
The shipmates we knew and became close to. Those we wanted never to see again, but feel a sense of loss at their passing. Meeting again after the passing years to share memories of the good times, bad times scarcely mentioned, comrades again as we remember who we were, when we were Sailors.
Brian Reynolds
USS Greenfish (SS-351)
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Healing Gel on Chronic Wounds
Can this gel make you well? So far, it works on wounds. Thought you might all find this interesting!
By Maria Cheng
The Associated Press
LONDON
For three years, Connie McPherson had debilitating leg ulcers that were so painful she sometimes couldn’t sleep. Despite repeated surgery, antibiotics, steroids and other treatments, nothing helped.
Then last year, she took part in a trial for a new gel aimed at chronic wounds.
“It was the answer to my prayers,” said McPherson, 58, a real estate agent in Tulsa, Okla. Within weeks, McPherson said, an ulcer that was treated was completely healed.
“I tried everything possible and this is the only thing that worked,” she said.
The gel used to treat McPherson was developed by a team led by David Becker, a professor of cell and developmental biology at University College London. The gel, named Nexagon, works by interrupting how cells communicate and prevents the production of a protein that blocks healing. That lets cells move faster to the wound to begin healing it.
Though it has been tested on only about 100 people so far, experts say, the gel could have a major impact on the treatment ofchronic wounds such asleg or diabetes ulcers, and even common scrapes or injuries from accidents.
In most chronic wounds, Becker said, there is an abnormal amount of a protein involved in inflammation.
To reduce it, Becker and colleagues made Nexagon from bits of DNA that can block the protein’s production. “As that protein is turned off, cells move in to close the wound,” Becker said. The gel is clear and has the consistency of toothpaste.
In an early study on leg ulcers, scientists at the company that Becker co-founded to develop the gel found that after four weeks, the number of people with completely healed ulcers was five times higher in patients who got the gel versus those who didn’t. The average leg ulcer takes up to six months to heal and 60 percent of patients get repeated ulcers.
Other experts said the gel appears promising. “It looks like the gel has a good effect in getting the outer layer (of skin) to restore itself,” said Phil Stephens, head of tissue engineering and repair at Cardiff University. Stephens is not linked to Becker’s research.
Still, Stephens said, it is crucial that the gel not interfere too much with the inflammation process.
“You need inflammatory cells to get in there and clean up the wound,” he said.
The gel has also been used on a handful of people who have suffered serious chemical burns to their eyes, including a 25-year-old workman in New Zealand who accidentally squirted liquid cement into one of his eyes.
In that case and five others, after Nexagon was applied, the outer lining of the patients’ eyes and the blood vessels within them regrew, saving their vision.
In the U.S., the gel has been granted approval by the Food and Drug Administration for serious eye injuries.
“This gel has the potential to do a lot of good,” said Dr. Thomas Serena, founder and director of the Penn North Centers for Advanced Wound Care in Pennsylvania. Serena has no financial ties to Nexagon but is one of the primary investigators for a U.S. trial of the product.
Another study is planned soon, which, experts said, should address correct dosages of the gel and side effects.
In the U.S., 70 million people have chronic wounds. With increasing rates of obesity, experts predict, there will soon be many more people suffering from diabetic ulcers.
Other gels are on the market, but they don’t work for everyone. Bioengineered skin, a protein that regulates cell growth and division, and even maggots are among the few other treatments that have been found to speed up healing.
Brad Duft, president of CoDa Therapeutics, which is developing the new gel, would not say how much Nexagon currently costs to make, for proprietary reasons.
He said the gel is still a couple of years away from being on the market, and that he expects the price to drop significantly after that happens. Some leg ulcer patients spend about $30,000 a year or more on treatment. Duft said the new gel would cost less than that.
For McPherson, the experience of being treated with Nexagon was so positive that she asked to be included in the gel’s next trial, to treat an even larger ulcer that wasn’t eligible for the first study.
“To have something that works would change my life,” she said.
KIRSTY WIGGLESWORTH PHOTOS | THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
By Maria Cheng
The Associated Press
LONDON
For three years, Connie McPherson had debilitating leg ulcers that were so painful she sometimes couldn’t sleep. Despite repeated surgery, antibiotics, steroids and other treatments, nothing helped.
Then last year, she took part in a trial for a new gel aimed at chronic wounds.
“It was the answer to my prayers,” said McPherson, 58, a real estate agent in Tulsa, Okla. Within weeks, McPherson said, an ulcer that was treated was completely healed.
“I tried everything possible and this is the only thing that worked,” she said.
The gel used to treat McPherson was developed by a team led by David Becker, a professor of cell and developmental biology at University College London. The gel, named Nexagon, works by interrupting how cells communicate and prevents the production of a protein that blocks healing. That lets cells move faster to the wound to begin healing it.
Though it has been tested on only about 100 people so far, experts say, the gel could have a major impact on the treatment ofchronic wounds such asleg or diabetes ulcers, and even common scrapes or injuries from accidents.
In most chronic wounds, Becker said, there is an abnormal amount of a protein involved in inflammation.
To reduce it, Becker and colleagues made Nexagon from bits of DNA that can block the protein’s production. “As that protein is turned off, cells move in to close the wound,” Becker said. The gel is clear and has the consistency of toothpaste.
In an early study on leg ulcers, scientists at the company that Becker co-founded to develop the gel found that after four weeks, the number of people with completely healed ulcers was five times higher in patients who got the gel versus those who didn’t. The average leg ulcer takes up to six months to heal and 60 percent of patients get repeated ulcers.
Other experts said the gel appears promising. “It looks like the gel has a good effect in getting the outer layer (of skin) to restore itself,” said Phil Stephens, head of tissue engineering and repair at Cardiff University. Stephens is not linked to Becker’s research.
Still, Stephens said, it is crucial that the gel not interfere too much with the inflammation process.
“You need inflammatory cells to get in there and clean up the wound,” he said.
The gel has also been used on a handful of people who have suffered serious chemical burns to their eyes, including a 25-year-old workman in New Zealand who accidentally squirted liquid cement into one of his eyes.
In that case and five others, after Nexagon was applied, the outer lining of the patients’ eyes and the blood vessels within them regrew, saving their vision.
In the U.S., the gel has been granted approval by the Food and Drug Administration for serious eye injuries.
“This gel has the potential to do a lot of good,” said Dr. Thomas Serena, founder and director of the Penn North Centers for Advanced Wound Care in Pennsylvania. Serena has no financial ties to Nexagon but is one of the primary investigators for a U.S. trial of the product.
Another study is planned soon, which, experts said, should address correct dosages of the gel and side effects.
In the U.S., 70 million people have chronic wounds. With increasing rates of obesity, experts predict, there will soon be many more people suffering from diabetic ulcers.
Other gels are on the market, but they don’t work for everyone. Bioengineered skin, a protein that regulates cell growth and division, and even maggots are among the few other treatments that have been found to speed up healing.
Brad Duft, president of CoDa Therapeutics, which is developing the new gel, would not say how much Nexagon currently costs to make, for proprietary reasons.
He said the gel is still a couple of years away from being on the market, and that he expects the price to drop significantly after that happens. Some leg ulcer patients spend about $30,000 a year or more on treatment. Duft said the new gel would cost less than that.
For McPherson, the experience of being treated with Nexagon was so positive that she asked to be included in the gel’s next trial, to treat an even larger ulcer that wasn’t eligible for the first study.
“To have something that works would change my life,” she said.
KIRSTY WIGGLESWORTH PHOTOS | THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
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