2008/07/01 00:00:00
One way MOAA attempts to fulfill our goal of being the professional association of choice for all military officers and their families is by promoting enduring values of military professionals, including the highest ethical standards.
Each month, this page will feature a different ethics case study provided by Capt. Rick Rubel, USN-Ret., distinguished Professor of Ethics at the U.S. Naval Academy. With each case study, Rubel will provide suggested questions, and readers will be able to discuss and comment. Whether you are currently serving, in a second career, or retired, there will be something here that makes you think. Unlike rules of engagement or standards of conduct, remember there is not necessarily a right answer to an ethical dilemma.
We hope you find this series interesting, but more important, we hope to promote discussion and thinking about ethical challenges facing people in uniform, whether in combat or in the normal course of duty. Be sure to check back Aug. 1 for the author’s comments on this case study.
By Captain Rick Rubel, USN-Ret.
Many military organizations adhere the code, “Leave no one behind.” This phrase creates a deep individual commitment among servicemembers, which will, in turn, strengthen the fighting spirit and morale of a unit. It helps to assure families of servicemembers their loved ones will not be left behind — alive or dead, they will be brought home.
But this code also places a heavy moral burden on a commanding officer (CO).
He or she must ask: How many healthy servicemembers will I risk to bring home one wounded servicemember or a body? This becomes one of the most difficult moral decisions of command — losing an unknown number of lives to uphold the important code, "Leave no one behind."
This case is a peacetime scenario — which probably occurs more frequently than the wartime scenario and has the exact same moral decision at its core.
*This is a composite case of several scenarios based on a true story. The names have been changed to not attribute the decisions made to a known officer.
Questions for the reader:
- What are the unknowns that might affect your decision if you had the information? (In real life, almost all decisions are made with unknowns.)
- If you were the CO, in making the decision to launch or not launch the second helo:
- What are the major considerations?
- What would the entities above you want you to do (CAG, strike group commander, Navy, NATOPS, your mission)?
- What would the entities below you want you to do (your pilots, their crews, the squadron, the families of the servicemembers in the first and second helo)?
- To which do you have a higher obligation?
- If you were the decision maker, would you launch the second helo?
- Is “Leave no one behind” a good code, or does it unnecessarily risk human life?
He was one of those rare naval aviators who universally was admired. In both social and official situations, he always seemed to ask the right question find that balance between being friendly and professional. When he walked into the squadron ready-room, people would sit up a little straighter — not because he required it, but because they admired him, and they wanted his respect.
As CO of Helicopter Antisubmarine Squadron NINE (HS-9), Cmdr. James “Fox” Davis, USN, knew his men and women, and he understood his mission. The squadron’s many missions included antisubmarine/antisurface operations, combat search and rescue, and logistics support for the carrier battle group. Their everyday, embedded mission was search and rescue (SAR). As Davis used to say with pride: “On a good day we catch a submarine. On a great day we save a life.” The SAR mission was well-respected in the fleet, not only because the HH-60H “Seahawk” would be there to pick you up out of danger, but also because its aircrew often would selflessly risk their lives to make a dangerous pick-up.
Davis knew the fine line between bravado and professionalism. He instilled in his squadron that if you have to take risks, make sure you understand, plan for, and minimize those risks while performing your duty.
HS-9 was three months into a six-month deployment on the carrier, and they had established a superb record with the carrier air wing commander (CAG). The CAG is the commander of all the aircraft squadrons and is responsible for aircraft operations to the battle group commander. The squadron CO worked for the CAG, and although the CAG was an F/A-18 “fighter-jock,” he treated his HS skipper with private and public respect. Davis’ squadron also was respected by the CAG and battle group staffs not only for getting the job done but also for taking care of their people and even for getting routine administrative paperwork in on time — a trait not all that common among naval aviators.
Every Tuesday afternoon at 1:30 during the deployment, the squadron skipper held training with his pilots and crews. They would review basic procedures and talk about operational and emergency flight parameters. In aviation terms, they discussed normal and emergency “envelopes” — the parameters of safe flight and which of these areas a pilot could trade off in emergency situations of mechanical failure or weather conditions. His pilots felt comfortable enough with their skipper to ask hypothetical questions, such as, “Skipper, what if we were in the situation where ... .”
In normal flight operations, an HH-60H would be airborne in a “primary search and rescue” position to immediately rescue a downed pilot or man overboard. On this day, they were transiting the North Atlantic and, as was often is the case in October, the weather was terrible and unpredictable. Depending on where you were in relation to the land and islands, you could find a sudden change in the weather in both wind speed and wave height.
With winds at 45 knots (around 50 mph) and waves and swells over 25 feet, all aircraft were either struck down to the hangar bay or tied down on the flight deck. The air boss called Davis and asked him to keep HH-60H (Troubleshooter 615) on the flight deck in an “alert 30” launch status, but with double tie-downs and extra straps on the wildly bouncing rotor blades. Davis complied, but he knew that if the helo was needed, it would take quite a bit longer to get it ready.
Davis was in his stateroom trying to do paperwork while the carrier rolled and pitched. On his desk, Davis had a small communications panel with several phones. His squadron duty officer Lt. “Puck” Evans had just reported to him that the alert 30 was set with Troubleshooter 615 and Lt. Cmdr. “Chipper” Morrison as aircraft commander. The alert 60 also was set with Troubleshooter 722 and Lt. “Pigpen” Phillips and his crew.
At that moment, two of Davis’ desk phones rang at the same time. Davis was a bit startled, because one call appeared to be coming from the air boss and the other from his squadron ready room. “This can’t be good!” he thought.
He answered the call from the air boss first:
“ Fox, we have a confirmed man overboard from the USS Mahan. They have a DR [dead reckoning] plot on his position, five miles from us.”
“What are the weather conditions?” Davis asked, as he tried to turn on his closed-circuit TV to see the topside camera picture. He tried all channels but could not get a picture on the screen.
“That’s the problem,” the air boss said. “We have about zero-zero conditions [visibility] and 45-knot winds and 25-foot swells.” (This explained why Davis couldn’t get a picture on his closed circuit TV.)
Davis knew he would be asked for a recommendation at the end of this call, so in his mind he began to go through the flight envelopes, helicopter launch and recovery parameters, hypothermia tables (how long a person can survive in this water), and qualifications of his crew. After reviewing those considerations, the image of the sailor in the water trying to survive caused him to quickly say, “Let’s launch 615 and reset 722 as an alert 15 standby. I’ll assemble the rescue coordination team in CVIC [carrier intelligence center].”
Within seconds, “Now launch the alert helo!” came over the 1MC speakers.
By the time Davis got down the passageway to the ready room, Morrison, his copilot, the hoist operator, and a rescue swimmer in full water survival gear ran past him with flight helmets in hand. Davis didn’t want to stop them with a long talk, because he knew they were trying to focus on the rescue mission, and they were well trained — they knew what to do. As they ran to the flight deck, they knocked three sailors and a supply officer off their feet.
Within 12 minutes — 18 minutes ahead of schedule — Troubleshooter 615 lifted off the flight deck with almost zero-zero visibility, disappearing into the fog at about 30 feet of altitude. Every second counts. They established radio communication with the USS Mahan and were directed to the estimated position of the man in the water. They radioed back that the visibility was about 50 feet, and there was no ceiling. In other words, they could see less than 50 feet around them.
In the calculus of finding a lone sailor in 20-foot waves, high winds, and reduced visibility, the odds for success on this mission were very low, but there was a chance. This mission was well out of safe flight parameters, but a human life was at stake. Davis sent his executive officer to the intelligence center, and he went to the ready room to be with his pilots. In the ready room, time almost stood still as they waited for news from 615. The alert 15 crew of Troubleshooter 722 was standing by in the aircraft, with their fingers on the engine start buttons. Davis tried to look calm for his squadron pilots, but he knew this mission was at, or beyond, the limit of his crew’s and aircrafts capabilities.
He thought to himself, “With these conditions, they are working very hard just to stay out of the water themselves, making finding the man overboard very difficult.” Davis had been in this situation himself several times before — each time not finding the survivor despite his best efforts. But, he thought, “We have to do everything we can.”
Then the phone in the ready room rang, “Fox, this is the air boss.” His voice was steady but very serious. “Mahan says that 615 spotted something in the water, and on the way down to a hover, caught a gust or a large wave, and they believe 615 went in the water. Mahan hasn’t heard from them in over two minutes.”
This is every squadron commanding officer’s nightmare call.
There was a long pause on the phone, as the air boss understood that Davis would need to assess the information. After a few seconds came the inevitable question: “Skipper, do you want to launch 722 to go after them?”
As Davis focused on this question, all the sounds in the ready room were filtered out by his concentration. Time seemed to stop as he considered what to do. Should he risk another flight crew to save the first crew in the water? Maybe he should “cut his losses” and declare it was unsafe to fly. He knew he was well outside safe flight parameters. He had many people to answer to, including his CAG, his pilots, and their families. CAG certainly wouldn’t want to lose another plane or crew. But his squadron pilots certainly would want to make another rescue attempt. His squadron would want to launch every flyable helicopter to save a life. (Often, in these situations, the CO is the only one to hold a squadron back from a high-risk rescue.) They were trained to save lives, and he knew they would be ready to go in an instant. “What about the families?” he thought. How can I tell them I didn’t try to save their husbands and sons? But if I send another crew, and they go down, how will I explain to their families that we flew in these conditions — twice?
All his years of flight training allowed him to stay cool and think calmly under stress. But his flight training never prepared him for this decision. In vivid detail, he thought, “Every second counts for survivability. A perfectly good helicopter went down because of the weather. Will 722 have a better chance, or could they go down too?”
While the air boss waited on the phone for an answer, Davis tried to decide the right thing to do.
Be sure to check back Aug. 1 for the author’s comments.
About the Author: Capt. Rick Rubel, USN-Ret., currently is the distinguished military professor of Ethics at the U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. After a 30-year career in the Navy, he has taught the Core Ethics Course for 10 years and has served as course director for the past six years. He is coauthor and coeditor of Case Studies in Military Ethics (Pearson Publishing, 2006).
Read the author's analysis and tell us what you think.
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Commander Pettit |
7/30/2008 10:29:40 PM |
As a former rescue pilot my process would start with the best crew I had and put them in 722. It could be the skipper but the skipper is not always the best pilot. As far as being ready the crew already in 722 probably has the best motivation and physical readiness. Next, make sure 615 is in the water, if this can be asssured. Launch 722 and have them do a search with enough altitude to listen for survival radios. Once they are comfortable that they have a survivor located, then they could descend on an automatic approach. In 25 foot seas, a 50 foot altitude would be about the best you could get. Visibility would be a big issue. Not good for searching for people in the water. As skipper, I may have not agreed to launch 615. A boat may have had a better chance (modern inflatable). But, since 615 was launched and was in the water there is no choice but to launch 722 to try and recover 615's crew and the man overboard. Hopefully, it is not night.
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Chief Warrant Officer Mongan |
7/24/2008 12:19:19 AM |
Many of the respondents constantly held to the "No One Left Behind" and this is a good concept to follow. However, I must remind you that have been many situations where it is completely impossible to save the one left behind. Consider a ship, in a fight, under the condition of all watertight compartments sealed. If the incoming water is above the level of the hatch, you will not get to that person. In the situation given, the first aircraft should of launched. With the technology of today, we would know if that ship had gone down. We have a vessel close to the area and should be searching and have boats ready for launch. The second aircraft should be ready to launch as soon as the situation is clarified and with the CO as pilot and the crew all volunteers. Clarification means you know the condition of the first aircraft, the location of the vessel and it relationship to the downed aircraft and the man overboard. The CO of the SAR unit also must consider if he does continue to send out units to save each unit as they become casualties, can he then provide the necessary support to the fleet they are also responsible for?
CW2 Mongan
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Major Perez |
7/17/2008 7:09:44 PM |
I was an Infantry Unit Commander in Vietnan and in September 1966 found myself under the same dilema. The point man of my First Platoon was down and we could not pinpoint his exact location nor could we determine whether he was dead or alive. I went for the rescue at the cost of six dead a seven additional wounded men. We rescue the down soldier. He was badly wounded and I today I remember his words to me: "I knew that you wouldn't leave me". Although the cost was high, I found that my decision was what my unit expected of me and the morale and fighting spirit of my unit went sky high.
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Commander Jenkins |
7/17/2008 9:33:48 AM |
Assuming that "well trained" means they have in fact trained in this level of difficulty rescue and could perform the rescue once the survivors were located; LAUNCH.
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Major Treat |
7/17/2008 6:23:23 AM |
Outstanding and realistic.
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7/17/2008 5:45:05 AM |
This is an extremely compelling article! While reading, I was at the edge of my seat. Afterward, it forced my to reach deep into myself to ask what I would do. I posted a link to this article on my blog. Bravo!
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Major Nussel |
7/17/2008 3:36:48 AM |
As a Marine Medevac crew member is RVN, what's to discuss? You have assigned a qualified crew. Launch. Major Nussel
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Captain Steinken |
7/16/2008 10:53:01 PM |
Reminds me of an incident in Vietnam in 1965.I was an NFO teamed with the Commanding officer of an F4 fighter squadron. we were on the Hot Pad and recieved a launch alert,A Marine company was pinned down and asking for CAS. as I was getting the info the skipper lit off the F4. our section taxied out and took the duty runway. the skipper said call the tower and tell them we are clearing the runway., which I did. as we were taxing back, another section off the hot pad was taking the duty runway,and took off in support of the Marine company.I asked the skipper why we aborted, and he said, it was due to the heavy rainfall at the end of the runway.It was the COs decision to make, but I let it be known it was the wrong one.as in this case. You go.... thats we we are there for.
Duke Steinken Capt USMC (Ret)
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Commander Gibson |
7/16/2008 7:33:57 PM |
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Commander Siefker |
7/16/2008 3:51:13 PM |
Commander Campbell (7/2/2008 6:39:19 PM) is spot on. I am a black shoe, but even I know this is not a time for hip-shooting or snap judgments. Hopefully, Mahan is steaming to DR point. When and if Mahan confirms 615 is down, then launch 722 if requested by Mahan' skipper. I also want to know what the hell CAG is doing during all of this? This should be HIS call to make.