Picture this: Badly injured from a plane crash and possibly near death, a husband and wife, both in great pain, reach out to try to comfort each other and call out for help, however weakly. ACTING!
What a scene! Bodies everywhere. Fake blood all over the place. But when dead people start sitting up and talking to one another the whole scene got a little less stomach churning.
It was the 2006 Airport Disaster Drill, and the moulage was amazingly realistic. My two favorites were Pen-in-the-belly, the girl with the ball point pen stabbed into her gut, and Stumpy, the woman with the leg amputation just below the knee. All fake.
The people who volunteered to act as crash victims really put there hearts into it. They were assigned a role and given a tag describing their affliction so that it was a little easier for the first responders to label them with dots. Red was critical, yellow was serious, green meant that they were able to walk, and those with blue dots were dead.
One fellow with burns on his arms really let loose with the howling. He even complained about ant bites. (Hmmm, those could have been real.) But he did get a red dot, so he didn't have to hang around long. And as one might expect, some of the silent ones were pretty badly banged up.
The very first responders wore space suits and made the determination that it was safe for the rest of the rescuers to come in.
The goal was to triage the injured so that those who were in critical shape but who could be helped got attention first. Ambulances were called in for miles around, and the patients were taken to area hospitals. The walking wounded were directed to a bus which took them to get treatment, although I suspect that if this were real they would have had quite a wait.
I was there in two capacities, water boy and media man. The media were taken to the scene just after the crash so that they (we) could get in there, and mingle with the victims, and photograph the blood and guts. Then as word of the incident got out the police came and shoed us all outside a makeshift perimeter. One police officer had his hands full with a woman acting as an elderly relative of a victim who just couldn't stop wandering around looking for that relative. It was really quite amusing for those of us who weren't actually being tested. But for the first responders it was very serious.
It's hard to say who had the toughest job. The hardest physical work was performed by those men and women who had to strap hefty people onto backboards and haul them to the triage area. However, a victim could be misdiagnosed and end up not getting the care that might have kept him or her alive, so surely the triage evaluations must have been quite exhausting.
The volunteers who played dead bodies were replaced with sandbags and didn't have to wait around in the hot sun. And to the workers who had to haul off the sandbags, they were just sandbags, not bodies. So I learned something today. A dead body in that circumstance is a federal problem. The local officials just leave them there for some federal agency to deal with, or stink up the place, which ever occurs first.
But for the volunteers it was a hoot, and they got a free brisket lunch provided by the Citizens Fire Academy Alumni Association.
I took about a zillion photos, and if any of them make it through the triage I may post some of them here tomorrow. So check back.