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bennelli-banger

closest call with death???

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bobman
14 minutes ago, 406dn said:

Now, I remember another. A group of us had been duck hunting. I had a 65 Chevy SS Impala with a 396 engine. I liked to make good time.

 

We knocked off hunting and had stopped to buy snacks for the ride home. It was coming dusk when we got on the freeway. Since I was snacking, I was driving less than the speed limit in the right lane. An oncoming pair of headlights seemed slightly off in perspective. Then it hit us the car was going the wrong way down the freeway.

 

Most any other time,,, I drove 80mph or more and more or less stayed in the left lane. 

 

They teach the highway patrol to always drive in the right lane on interstates because of this, especially at night. I drive a lot for my job and always drive in the right lane unless i am passing.

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snapt

Caught, carried 800 or so vertical feet, and partially buried while skiing with a Cat Ski operation who shall remain nameless. Not a day I would personally have pushed things but the guides were all confident...learned a lot about snow, group dynamics, leadership, teamwork, and decision making that day.

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WeeWilly

A fitting broke on my mask while sea cucumber diving at 103ft leaving me with two breaths. Luckily after ditching my 80lb belt, I forgot to unclip my bag that was partially full, which  kept me from embolizing as I came to the surface. The deckhands heard me scream through the comms and figured a sea lion or orca had got the best of me.  Took a couple days off after that one.

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Big Al

Myself and four other guys went up to northern Ontario for an October moose hunt.  We drove up to the base camp near Sudbury and then took a bush plane further north.  While the guides were setting up camp one of the other fellas and myself decided to take out a canoe and scout the lake we were camped next to.  While we were paddling across the lake we got careless and flipped the canoe.  We were both in our full hunting gear, which back in those days was thick wool coats and pants and heavy boots.  Well when we went over I'm thinking that this isn't going to end well.  Fortunately for us when we both surfaced the canoe was still right next to us and we were both able to grab it.  Then while we were still in the water and hanging onto the canoe we paddled over to the shore, which was the furthest spot from camp.  We got back into the canoe and with the one remaining paddle went across the lake back to camp.  

We lost one of the rifles and a paddle but aside from being very cold we came out of the ordeal safe and wiser.  Had that canoe even moved away from us a few feet there wouldn't have been any way I could have swam to it. 

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Dakota Dogman

Boy, my life is pretty boring!  (or blessed) Mostly my close calls have been for stubbornness. 

In 2008 had a weird pain in my side that wouldn't go away for good.  Kept messing with it for a little over a month till I went in & found out I had been living with a perforated appendix that had turned gangrene. They were kinda surprised that i lived through that one.  

God Bless, 

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bennelli-banger
17 minutes ago, Big Al said:

Myself and four other guys went up to northern Ontario for an October moose hunt.  We drove up to the base camp near Sudbury and then took a bush plane further north.  While the guides were setting up camp one of the other fellas and myself decided to take out a canoe and scout the lake we were camped next to.  While we were paddling across the lake we got careless and flipped the canoe.  We were both in our full hunting gear, which back in those days was thick wool coats and pants and heavy boots.  Well when we went over I'm thinking that this isn't going to end well.  Fortunately for us when we both surfaced the canoe was still right next to us and we were both able to grab it.  Then while we were still in the water and hanging onto the canoe we paddled over to the shore, which was the furthest spot from camp.  We got back into the canoe and with the one remaining paddle went across the lake back to camp.  

We lost one of the rifles and a paddle but aside from being very cold we came out of the ordeal safe and wiser.  Had that canoe even moved away from us a few feet there wouldn't have been any way I could have swam to it. 

 

               a good friend of mine (two of them, actually) had a boy each that went fishing together...pulled the boat up to shore to take a break while fishing on a lake in the black hills...deep...cold....boat wasn't pulled up enough, wind took it out.  The two guys swam after it, one started drowning, the other tried to save him and almost got taken down himself by the frantic friend who did drown.  That was in 2004.  Very sad.  

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bennelli-banger
17 minutes ago, Dakota Dogman said:

Boy, my life is pretty boring!  (or blessed) Mostly my close calls have been for stubbornness. 

In 2008 had a weird pain in my side that wouldn't go away for good.  Kept messing with it for a little over a month till I went in & found out I had been living with a perforated appendix that had turned gangrene. They were kinda surprised that i lived through that one.  

God Bless, 

 

      yes, me too.  one time i had a bon-bon get lodged in my throat...took a sip of cocoa, and the bon-bon melted...felt good as the sea-salt infused carmel-center oozed down my throat...the peruvian dark chocolate melted in such a way that it was akin to a molten-lava chocolate cake...that is how I eat them now all the time.  Again, a lot like Dick Sellers falling a few hundred feet down a cliff, into raging rapids, being circled by hungry brown bears...this sporting life ain't for the meek!!!  Just downed another bon-bon...didn't even chew it, living on the edge this morning after regaling all these episodes...

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Buddy Knox

Back in the early 80s I was a young USAF Captain on a two-year assignment to the Army's 2nd Ranger Battalion as their Air Liaison Officer (ALO).  Special Operations was in its infancy following the Desert One debacle where we managed to mess up the rescue attempt for the embassy in Iran.  Anyway, the Rangers were just learning how to do special ops and we were inventing a lot of procedures from scratch.  One procedure was a take down of a hostile airfield in order to secure a safe place to remove 'precious cargo' (rescuees, etc).

One night I was part of a mission to practice both the airfield seizure and the rescue of precious cargo.  It was to be a live fire demo...real bullets and real explosives.   My job was to direct the supporting fire from orbiting AC-130s to where the Rangers needed it most.  I rode to the exercise in the back of a blacked out C-130 transport airplane with a bunch of Rangers as a member of the commander's TOC.  We had stuff on board, including two Little Bird helos and a bunch of things that go boom.  Official releases call them pyrotechnics...but I'd say that was very conservative (still not sure how classified the training was).

Anyway, the crew was making a blacked out landing using night vision goggles onto a blacked out runway.  There were no lights in the back either since we were allowing our eyes to adjust to the darkness we'd experience when we un-assed the C-130.

A mile short of the runway the C-130 hit the ground, sheared the landing gear, and after much bouncing, tearing of metal, and forward shifting of equipment the bird stopped moving.  Since there were no seats on the airplane (literally, there were NO seats for anyone) just prior to the crash I knelt down to get my backpack...I'd heard the gear and flaps come down so I knew we were getting close to landing...when we hit.  It was chaos in total darkness.  Bounced, bumped, and thrown around with no idea what was going on.  I was an experienced aviator so after about the 2nd bounce I figured it was more than a hard landing and when I heard the tearing of metal I was sure we had collapsed a main gear and were sliding through the infield of the airfield.  Of course I was wrong.  

There was a floor-mounted wench we'd used to load the small helos and I found myself thrown against it.  I held on to that anchor and was stopped from sliding all the way to the forward bulkhead.  Despite that  I was buried under a mound of equipment and my web gear was tangled in the wreckage.  I was consumed by the knowledge that in crashes people die from smoke inhalation...so I held my breath, for about 20 seconds.  Then I started to dig my way out.  I shed my web gear and it's entanglements (bye bye pistol, knife, canteen, etc).  I pushed and shoved and eventually got to a sitting position and could faintly see light above me.  I reached up, grabbed something above me and did a chin up to snake my lower torso up and out.  My next grip and pull got me on top of rubble and when I tried to stand I saw my left leg bent outboard at the knee.  No pain yet...so I stuck my foot in a wedge of twisted metal and jumped back, resetting my dislocated knee.  Then I stood up and looked for the exits.  Some were obscured by debris.  Some, in the rear, were blocked by some low fire and a spreading mass of flames.  There, though, on the port side of the bird was a gash that looked like where the left inboard prop had sheared and gashed a hole.  Honestly, I don't know, but it was a way out.  I looked for someone to help me get there on my bad leg, but there wasn't anyone I could see in the light of the flames.  Turns out I was the last person to exit.

When I got out (with the left outboard engine and prop still running wildly) and took a breath of clear, cool, air all my panic was gone.  In one breath.  Amazing.  I turned around to go back in and check for other survivors, but as I began pulling myself back into the side of the bird I witnessed a wall of flame coming towards me, just like in the movies.

So I limped to the front of the airplane and found a group of survivors sitting around some injured personnel.  Everyone I could see seemed to be in shock...so I yelled out "RANGERS!  I'm Captain Knox...does anyone outrank me!"  There was no answer, so I said RANGERS!  Pick up the wounded and meet me 100 yards in front of the nose of the airplane."   It was a testimony to training that all I heard was a chorus of 'hooah!'.  Shortly after we stopped and began first aid the bird began to burn and blow up wholesale.

 

When all was said and done we lost seven good men, including the Bn Cdr, LtCol Powell.  The true heros were our battalion surgeon and his assistant whose gear was found outside the bird but bodies were found inside, obviously caught while giving aid.

 

I was hospitalized overnight but the the next day went slightly missing when I found a ride back to Fort Lewis in an air force general's plane.  I stole a pair of crutches from the Nellis AFB hospital (found them in the hallway) and had a young Ranger find my uniform and wheel me in a wheelchair to the front desk where I liberated my records then to a base taxi where I made a dash to the general's bird.

 

I ended up with a trashed left knee (replaced just 12 months ago with a new bionic model) and some minor internal bleeding which stopped without treatment.  I was lucky.

 

I've been close a couple of other times, but this one stays with me.   http://www.upi.com/Archives/1981/09/21/An-Air-Force-C-130-cargo-plane-crashed-and-exploded/1901369892800/

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Ben Hong

During my university days, I had a dream gig every summer that paid very, very handsomely. I flew for a large firm that sprayed  forest insects, did aerial surveys, fire patrols, etc. One day I drew an assignment that I normally found boring and mundane, survey the extent of accidental and collateral spraying. Here I was ticking over at 110 mph following rivulets and large rivers looking for telltale rainbows on the water. I was following a fairly large feeder that fed into the Miramichi River at treetops height looking hard for evidence on the wind whipped water surfaces. All of a sudden the other pilot yelled "power line", at which point I rammed the yoke forward and flew under the lines. Don't know how low we were but one of the wheels and the strut was still wet when we landed. Never told that story until several decades had passed.

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bennelli-banger
48 minutes ago, Buddy Knox said:

Back in the early 80s I was a young USAF Captain on a two-year assignment to the Army's 2nd Ranger Battalion as their Air Liaison Officer (ALO).  Special Operations was in its infancy following the Desert One debacle where we managed to mess up the rescue attempt for the embassy in Iran.  Anyway, the Rangers were just learning how to do special ops and we were inventing a lot of procedures from scratch.  One procedure was a take down of a hostile airfield in order to secure a safe place to remove 'precious cargo' (rescuees, etc).

One night I was part of a mission to practice both the airfield seizure and the rescue of precious cargo.  It was to be a live fire demo...real bullets and real explosives.   My job was to direct the supporting fire from orbiting AC-130s to where the Rangers needed it most.  I rode to the exercise in the back of a blacked out C-130 transport airplane with a bunch of Rangers as a member of the commander's TOC.  We had stuff on board, including two Little Bird helos and a bunch of things that go boom.  Official releases call them pyrotechnics...but I'd say that was very conservative (still not sure how classified the training was).

Anyway, the crew was making a blacked out landing using night vision goggles onto a blacked out runway.  There were no lights in the back either since we were allowing our eyes to adjust to the darkness we'd experience when we un-assed the C-130.

A mile short of the runway the C-130 hit the ground, sheared the landing gear, and after much bouncing, tearing of metal, and forward shifting of equipment the bird stopped moving.  Since there were no seats on the airplane (literally, there were NO seats for anyone) just prior to the crash I knelt down to get my backpack...I'd heard the gear and flaps come down so I knew we were getting close to landing...when we hit.  It was chaos in total darkness.  Bounced, bumped, and thrown around with no idea what was going on.  I was an experienced aviator so after about the 2nd bounce I figured it was more than a hard landing and when I heard the tearing of metal I was sure we had collapsed a main gear and were sliding through the infield of the airfield.  Of course I was wrong.  

There was a floor-mounted wench we'd used to load the small helos and I found myself thrown against it.  I held on to that anchor and was stopped from sliding all the way to the forward bulkhead.  Despite that  I was buried under a mound of equipment and my web gear was tangled in the wreckage.  I was consumed by the knowledge that in crashes people die from smoke inhalation...so I held my breath, for about 20 seconds.  Then I started to dig my way out.  I shed my web gear and it's entanglements (bye bye pistol, knife, canteen, etc).  I pushed and shoved and eventually got to a sitting position and could faintly see light above me.  I reached up, grabbed something above me and did a chin up to snake my lower torso up and out.  My next grip and pull got me on top of rubble and when I tried to stand I saw my left leg bent outboard at the knee.  No pain yet...so I stuck my foot in a wedge of twisted metal and jumped back, resetting my dislocated knee.  Then I stood up and looked for the exits.  Some were obscured by debris.  Some, in the rear, were blocked by some low fire and a spreading mass of flames.  There, though, on the port side of the bird was a gash that looked like where the left inboard prop had sheared and gashed a hole.  Honestly, I don't know, but it was a way out.  I looked for someone to help me get there on my bad leg, but there wasn't anyone I could see in the light of the flames.  Turns out I was the last person to exit.

When I got out (with the left outboard engine and prop still running wildly) and took a breath of clear, cool, air all my panic was gone.  In one breath.  Amazing.  I turned around to go back in and check for other survivors, but as I began pulling myself back into the side of the bird I witnessed a wall of flame coming towards me, just like in the movies.

So I limped to the front of the airplane and found a group of survivors sitting around some injured personnel.  Everyone I could see seemed to be in shock...so I yelled out "RANGERS!  I'm Captain Knox...does anyone outrank me!"  There was no answer, so I said RANGERS!  Pick up the wounded and meet me 100 yards in front of the nose of the airplane."   It was a testimony to training that all I heard was a chorus of 'hooah!'.  Shortly after we stopped and began first aid the bird began to burn and blow up wholesale.

 

When all was said and done we lost seven good men, including the Bn Cdr, LtCol Powell.  The true heros were our battalion surgeon and his assistant whose gear was found outside the bird but bodies were found inside, obviously caught while giving aid.

 

I was hospitalized overnight but the the next day went slightly missing when I found a ride back to Fort Lewis in an air force general's plane.  I stole a pair of crutches from the Nellis AFB hospital (found them in the hallway) and had a young Ranger find my uniform and wheel me in a wheelchair to the front desk where I liberated my records then to a base taxi where I made a dash to the general's bird.

 

I ended up with a trashed left knee (replaced just 12 months ago with a new bionic model) and some minor internal bleeding which stopped without treatment.  I was lucky.

 

I've been close a couple of other times, but this one stays with me.   http://www.upi.com/Archives/1981/09/21/An-Air-Force-C-130-cargo-plane-crashed-and-exploded/1901369892800/

 

                Thanks for your service.  Wow.  Like I have said before, I am a mere "suburban sugar tit"...skun my knee up once or twice.  That anecdote is intense...thanks for sharing.  If you ever find yourself around Huron/Mitchell in the fall, get in touch if you wish...I will buy whatever you are drinking, and if you would like, invite you to join me pheasant hunting.  Mike Schneider

 

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Oriongs

Tagged hunter, wounded a black  bear, it charged.  Second shot from 44 Ruger Black Hawk, 305 grain bufflo bore, hard nose.  Went down, died with it's nose on my,  boots.  

 

 

 

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frak

One time I was coming out of Starbucks and nearly tripped and spilled my latte.  No kidding.  My life flashed before my eyes.

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DAG

A few months ago I came home from work, my wife asked how my day was and I told her I had put a deposit down for a bird dog.  

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Coalman

Years ago late February beaver trapping. Had to take a big step from shore over open water to get on the ice. Went about ten feet and without warning the ice gave way and I went in over my head.

 

Try as hard as I could after regaining my composure and stopped gasping for breath it was so cold I could not pull myself back up on the ice.

 

So I used my fists as battering rams and broke the ice. When I was close to shore I reached out and grabbed a branch that was hanging over the ice and easily pulled myself out.

 

Learned never again to go on ice without safety spikes. It took a couple months for my hands to heal. The fleshy part hammering the ice looked like hamburger.

 

Didn't tell my wife for years. I didn't want to stop trapping and didn't want her to worry.

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henryrski

The day my wife met my girlfriend.

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