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Army Divers
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This whole diving thing was an incredible fluke opportunity that came out of nowhere with a simple little prank promise. In 1979, I was an Army Communications Specialist stationed at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. I was extremely bored there after leaving a great two year assignment in the Panama Canal Zone, and couldn't wait for my discharge coming up at the end of the year. However, the re-enlistment NCO, Staff Sergeant(SSG) Wilson, a good friend known as Bunky, was unbelievably persistent: annoyingly persistent actually. So one day as he pleaded "What's it going to take?", I gave it a little thought. I was obsessed with scuba diving since my tour in Panama, and really wanted to be an instructor some day; so, in an in-your-face manner, I said I would re-enlist for a diving job. I was sure we both knew there wasn't such a thing in the Army, and I felt my point was made. The very next day though, bursting with excitement, Bunky informed me that the Army had Divers. I stood there absolutely stunned, thinking "Why would the Army have Divers?!" and "Who is this guy?!"

I kept my promise though, re-enlisting for the Naval School of Diving & Salvage (NSDS), at the Washington Navy Yard, Washington, D.C. (the last class prior to its move to Panama City, Florida: lucky me), followed by a three year tour of duty with the 511th Diving Detachment at Fort Belvior, Virginia. The Army maintained a handful of divers, about 50, for a few reasons; however, most of the work involved dam inspections around the U.S. for the Corps of Engineers, and maintaining an underwater support pipeline in Korea. The following series of shots highlights the three year experience.

The 1st shot below shows me in the training tank at the Navy Diving School. I don't want to imply anything, but the class started with 28 men, 21 Navy and 7 Army; after 21 drop-outs during the three month training, 3 Navy and 4 Army remained.

Myself working in the Divers Training Tank at the Washington Naval Yard Myself working in the Divers Training Tank at the Washington Naval Yard The Army 511th Diving Detachment business card The Army 511th Diving Detachment business card U.S. Navy Diver Certification Card U.S. Navy Diver Certification Card

As Army Divers, we lived for the job. Besides our love for the work, jobs took us off-post for weeks, up to a month or more, at a time. We were temporarily free of all the traditional army B.S., and our appearance reflected it.

The 1st picture in this next group of miscellaneous job shots was taken at R.D. Bailey Lake - Justice, West Virginia. Justice was a small coal mining community with a large rockfill dam just up from town on the Guyandotte River. The locals worked hard of course, and they weren't very open to outsiders; even their two bars were locked, required the use of a doorbell to get inside. The Army divers, on the other hand, could be extremely rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. Our welcome seemed to wear thin from day one, and I think we were lucky to have gotten out in one piece.

Myself as the standby diver at R.D. Bailey Lake - Justice, West Virginia Myself as the standby diver at R.D. Bailey Lake - Justice, West Virginia Beautiful view down the coast, at a job north of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina Beautiful view down the coast, at a job north of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina Buzz, manning the Divers Console at the end of a long day, near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina Buzz, manning the Divers Console at the end of a long day, near Kitty Hawk, NC Army Diver suited up at the Old River Control Structure on the Mississippi River in Louisiana, about 60 miles south of Natchez, Mississippi Army Diver suited up at the Old River Control Structure on the Mississippi River in Louisiana

Each year we were required to undergo annual qualification diving which, if we were lucky, took place out of Roosevelt Roads Naval Station in Puerto Rico. This is where I learned that there are few things more unstable than a sailor with a drinking problem, on shore leave after months at sea. Anyway, the next seven shots were taken during those annual qualification trips.

The 2nd shot below was taken as our diving boat (large enough to carry airbanks, heavy duty compressors, and decompression tanks, with plenty of room to spare) backed out of the transport ship that carried us to Puerto Rico. I had no idea they could do this kind of thing.

While the WWII - U.S. Navy MK V Deep Sea Diving helmet (seen in the 4th shot below) was out-of-date even back when these shots were taken, it was still officially in use, and still part of the Navy training, and our annual qualification requirements. Even though it was hard to get around in - out of water, weighing 190 pounds, it is the icon of military diving, and most of us considered the opportunity to dive in it, a hard earned privilege.

For my dive in the MK V, I was dropped down to about 100 feet. As I stood there on the bottom looking around, a huge Angel Fish, 18 inches or more in length, circled with curiosity. I pulled out my dive knife and flaked off bits of a large sponge next to me. The Angel Fish immediately became my best friend as it came in close to feed. That was a short, but very cool dive.

Passing time in the sleeping quarters of a Navy cargo ship transport to Puerto Rico for annual qualification dives - taken with a fisheye lens Sleeping quarters on our Navy transport to Puerto Rico for annual qualification dives The Navy cargo ship transport to Puerto Rico, with its back end still submerged after our Army Diving vessel exited Navy transport to Puerto Rico; its back end still submerged for our dive boat’s exit Sitting on the drop-down gate of our Army Diving vessel with fellow divers - another fisheye lens shot Rooky group photo on the drop-down gate of our Army Diving vessel Diver in the old Mark V deep sea diving gear, going down off the coast of Puerto Rico Diver in old Mark V deep sea gear, going down off the coast of Puerto Rico Catch-of-the-day, including lobster, during scuba qualification dives off the coast of Puerto Rico Catch-of-the-day with lots of lobster: scuba qualification dives - Puerto Rico um....Lars with catch-of-the-day, I guess um....Lars with catch-of-the-day, I guess Huge Parrot Fish, speared by one of the divers off the coast of Puerto Rico Huge Parrot Fish, speared by one of the divers off the coast of Puerto Rico

In January of 1982, I was on temporary loan to the diving detachment in Ft. Eustis, Virginia, when I heard the news broadcast about the Air Florida Flight 90 crash in the Potomac River, at the 14th Street Bridge, in Washington D.C., shortly after take-off from National Airport. The next day, I was called back to Ft. Belvior as the 511th and 86th Army Diving Detachments joined forces with Navy and Coast Guard divers to set up salvage operations.

For two weeks, we struggled to recover the bodies and wreckage. While the cold harsh winter conditions added to the hardship, I don't think any of us gave it much thought. With every body recovered, each piece of wreckage brought up, and with each departing flight taking off over our heads, our minds raced with images of what occurred that day.

About a week into the operation, working long hours, we were becoming physically and emotionally drained; we just wanted to get the job done as soon as we could. I was sent a little further up river from the main wreckage to see if there was anything we were missing, when I came across what looked like a girl's doll. As far as I knew, all the bodies recovered at that point were adults, and it hadn't even occurred to me that any of the passengers may have been children. I'm not sure why, but I continued staring, until it hit me like a bolt of lightning; this wasn't a doll. For me, that was the single worst moment of the recovery operation, and I still find it hard to accept today.

Tail of the Air Florida Flight 90 jet extending out of the Patomic River in Washington D.C. after its fatal crash in 1982 The Air Florida Flight 90 tail extending out of the Patomic River: Washington D.C. The Air Florida Flight 90 salvage operation in 1982, in the Patomic River, north of the 14th street bridge, Washington D.C. Air Florida Flight 90 salvage: Patomic River 14th St. bridge, Washington D.C. Recovering the bodies of the Air Florida Flight 90 passengers during the Patomic River crash salvage operation in 1982, Washington D.C. Our first priority in the salvage operation was recovering the bodies Bringing up the roof of the pilots cokpit during the Air Florida Flight 90 Patomic River crash salvage operation in 1982, Washington D.C. Bringing up the Air Florida Flight 90 pilot cokpit

While it seemed like I was well on my way to a long career in diving, it all ended as quickly as it started. First, I refused to re-enlist for a tour in Korea and was therefore barred from re-enlistment; then, with the high unemployment rate at that time, I was unable to find a job with a commercial diving company. Eventually, I fell back into the communications field, and that's where I stayed. Life didn't end there though; I eventually found my way into the Rocky Mountain region, and fell in love with climbing and mountaineering - but that's another story.

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