LOS ANGELES - Six men in white, protective coveralls, rubber boots and helmets strode in two-man teams through an area of unimaginable destruction, where pieces of exploded jetliner were a normal terrain feature.
“I’m picking up a strong neutron emitter in this area,” one said through a breathing apparatus sealed with yellow tape to the coveralls around his face. “I’m getting high readings back here, but it might be reflecting off of that [fuselage].”
At the other end of the plane, a shout rang out.
“Hey! I got
something over here,” the Soldier yelled to his teammate, who came shuffling
quickly over. “I told you there was a spike over here.”
The two
conferred then used complementary devices to take separate readings of the
source.
“I need two
identifiers for verification,” one said, referring to a handheld
radiation-detection device. He was speaking to his teammate and to his incident
command post, which was listening in and viewing the readings on their devices.
“The reading has been identified,” he said after a five-minute wait for the
identifier to complete its analysis: “Charlie. Oscar. Five. Seven. With a
confidence of 10.”
Cobalt-57 is
a radioactive metal used in medical tests, which is why it’s present at the
site of this simulated plane crash, where a notional health care company’s
factory once stood. In uncontrolled doses, however, radioactive cobalt can
induce nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and bleeding. It can lower one’s resistance
to infection and cause temporary sterility. Patients may lapse into a coma or
die, or they may experience long-term effects in the form of cancer.
The men and women who go in search of
substances like cobalt-57 aren’t your regular Soldiers and Airmen. They are
highly-educated, driven, detail-oriented and physically fit. They are solid
leaders, team members and communicators. They are courageous enough to stare a
nuclear disaster in the face and run toward it — and if the 9th Civil Support
Team is any indication, they mistakenly think the rest of us are too.
“These
things we are trained to combat, I wouldn’t want to see anyone go through. If I
have the skills to stop it, I’m going to,” said Staff Sgt. Steven Kemp, one of
the survey-team members who examined the wreckage April 8 at Universal Studios
Hollywood, which provided a uniquely realistic setting for the exercise. “These
things that could happen — civilians wouldn’t walk away; everyone would try to
do something.”
Maybe Kemp
is right, and everyone would try to help. But few have the outstanding
capabilities of the Los Alamitos-based 9th CST or its counterpart in the
northern part of the state, the Hayward-based 95th CST. California is one of
only three states whose National Guard can boast two of the elite
domestic-response units.
“They have
great expertise. Being able to turn to the CST and say, ‘Hey, we need help,’ is
vital for the region,” said Sgt. Michael Kelleher, supervisor of the Los
Angeles County Sheriff Department’s HazMat Detail. “There’s not enough hazmat
people in the world, and we are fortunate to have them in our area as a local
asset.”
“CSTs are
people who really want to be here — not coming out for a paycheck, but a
different sense of purpose,” Kemp said. “It’s a challenging job, and we wear a
lot of hats, but we have an inherent responsibility to the public.”