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Life inside a hazardous materials suit

Kate Dalke
MEDILL NEWS SERVICE

INDIAN HEAD, Md. -- Donning a Marine hazardous materials combat suit is a little like taking a break from yourself and the rest of the world.

ItÕs definitely not paradise, but it is worlds away from everyday life. Never before have I worn so much camouflage, let alone a gas mask.

The suit I tried on at the Chemical Biological Incident Response Force facility was not the type of moon suit you see the experts at the Environmental Protection Agency wearing or even the ones doctors wore in the movie Outbreak.

It was a combat suit with the dual purposes of protecting a CBIRF Marine from exposure to biological and chemical agents and withstanding warfare and rugged terrain.

Essentially, it creates a safe, self-contained environment for the Marine, regardless of the dangerous airborne agents that lurk outside.

At first the suit made me feel numb or maybe a little tipsy. All my sensesÑsight, touch, smell, and hearingÑwere greatly diminished by the cumbersome layers of the uniform.

It had the effect of creating two distinct worldsÑone outside and one inside the suit.

At the moment, the most important aspect of my inside world was breathing.

An M-40 gas mask was suctioned tightly around my face with sturdy nylon straps that secured the whole apparatus to my head. There were two large, beetle-like openings for my eyes and a one-way outtake valve for air. A black canister, a little bigger than the size of my palm, was screwed into the intake valve on the left side of the mask, filtering the air.

My breathing was strained and gulping. I told myself to be confident that the next breath would come. It did, and I began to relax.

Besides the mask, I wore a camouflage suit made of thick, non-breathable material. ItÕs not the most high-tech outfit on the market, but it seems incredibly sturdy.

Two rubber booties that looked like heavy-duty lace-up goulashes swathed my boots. My hands were covered with thick, black rubber glovesÑdishwasher style, but tougher. The hood protected the back of my head and, in a combat situation, would be taped to the front of my gas mask, thus sealing the exposed rim of my face. In fact, all the seals at my ankles and wrists would be taped shut with duct tape.

"Duct tape?" I skeptically questioned the lieutenant helping me get geared up.

Duct tape, he reassured me is the best seal available for haz-mat (short for hazardous material) suits.

Not only were my fingers and toes less nimble, but I watched their labored movements through a thick, plastic shield. Looking from side to side or even leaning my head backwards took a lot of effort. My dexterity was at an all-time low, and I shuffled my feet when I walked.

I crawled through tunnels at the military base to simulate how it feels to wear the suit in a confined environment. I began to appreciate even more the strength and skill needed to wear one of these suits, let alone fight in it.

Being taped, rubberized and filtered from the outside world was reassuring, but also disconcerting, uncomfortable and tiring. ItÕs not an easy job to be shielded and safe.


Marine Unit Battles Bioterrorism

Kate Dalke
MEDILL NEWS SERVICE Editor

WASHINGTON - In the days following the first threats of anthrax contamination on Capitol Hill, we saw them on television and on the front pages of newspapers dressed in head-to-toe white suits, gas masks and tall yellow rubber boots.

Their anonymous faces remained hidden behind protective plastic shields as they collected samples to ensure the safety of the famous inhabitants of the congressional offices they searched.

Members of the U.S. Marines Corps' Chemical Biological Incident Response Force, better known as CBIRF, were on their first, if a bit unexpected, mission.

A specialized life-saving unit within the Marines that responds to biological and chemical threats, the 400-person force is trained to go into contaminated areas to rescue and stabilize victims exposed to dangerous airborne agents.

But on Capitol Hill, the unit collected samples, not people, working alongside the other armed forces and experts from the Environmental Protection Agency and FBI during the anthrax investigations in Washington.

The scares began Oct. 11 when Sen. Tom Daschle received a contaminated letter and congressional offices were evacuated later that week to be swept for anthrax bacteria. The Hart Senate Office Building, where Daschle's office is located, is the only of the six congressional office still closed and the Capitol remained open throughout the scare, although it is still closed to tours.

For some of the Marines in CBIRF, the anthrax scare in Washington was their first real-word mission. Although the unit had trained extensively for a biological or chemical terrorist attack, it had never been called to a potentially dangerous biological environment.

"We actually got called; we actually got to do something," said Stephan M. Howard, a medical corpsman with the Marine unit.
"I don't want to say we actually got to prove ourselves, but after going up to Capitol Hill, more people got to learn about us."
The CBIRF Marines walked the deserted halls of the Longworth House Office Building, breathing filtered air through gas masks and pumps and collecting biological samples with long vacuum hoses.

A half-empty cup of coffee sat cold on an aide's desk. An opened book lay discarded. A fax machine hummed on, unaware of the utter desertion.

"It just looked like people up and left-just left everything as is... and it had an
eerie feeling to it," Howard said.

Leaving everything was exactly what congressional members, staffers and security guards did when they evacuated their offices in Longworth more than a month ago. CBIRF was called in to collect samples that were then delivered to the EPA.

"You could get the sense that there was something big going on around you," said Corporal Jerad Alexander, who worked at a decontamination station outside the Longworth building.

Besides sampling, the Marines were responsible for decontaminating their own team and other workers on the Hill. Once a person went inside a congressional office building, he or she had to be thoroughly washed. A decontamination squad of 15 Marines clad in air-proof suits alternately sprayed diluted bleach or water on people who had gone inside.

The unit also removed contaminated mail from the P Street Postal Facility in Washington, another unusual task for the CBIRF Marines.
"Give us a mission and we'll figure out how to do it," said Col. Thomas Hammes, commander of the unit.

He said the unit's flexibility, large numbers, reconnaissance capabilities and medical staff set it apart from other biological and chemical agent response teams.
Ready to deploy within one hour of notification, CBIRF responds with an initial force of 100 people, who can set up a decontamination station at a designated site within eight minutes of arrival.

What sets the CBIRF Marines apart from other Marines is their ability to respond to tragedies in hot zones, areas that are biologically and chemically contaminated with agents such as nerve gas or smallpox.
One of the greatest stumbling blocks to responding is the very covering that protects the CBIRFs from the "hot" environment-their hazardous materials suits. The suits restrict their movements and vision. They must train to gain confidence working in the suits, to maneuver and see in the dark and to overcome the potential feeling of claustrophobia caused by wearing gas masks.

"It's a little bit harder to see, harder to move your head around," Howard said. He is a Navy corpsman who is a permanent member of the CBIRF medical team responsible for stabilizing victims exposed to dangerous agents.

"You learn how to improvise and overcome some of the disabilities put on you by the suits," he said. "I don't want to say it gets easier as you do it, but it doesn't bother you as much."

Readiness, quickness and precision are the defining characteristics of a Marine and of CBIRF, said Lt. Paul Cabellon, a spokesman for the unit.

But so is the attitude-do more with less, he said.

The barracks of CBIRF are a testimony to its sparse resources. The unit is based in Indian Head, Md., a small town with a main highway that dead-ends at the naval base.
The deployment area at CBIRF looks more like a high school gym than a high-speed response facility. The workout facility consists of two small rooms with free weights and treadmills; hand-painted murals by the Marines cover the walls. The equipment and gear is never the latest, Cabellon said.
Some Marines said they hoped their work in Washington would improve the funding and support of CBIRF.

"I was in there doing a job. I was helping these people out," Alexander said.
Since the terrorist attacks and a growing public awareness of the threats of biological and chemical terrorism, CBIRF has gained greater responsibility and prominence. In October, it was named to the 4th Marine Expeditionary Brigade, a new anti-terrorism unit. A few weeks later, it received its first assignment at Longworth. Two weeks ago, it collected samples from the Dirksen Senate Office Building.

Corpsman Howard said the biggest change for him since the Sept. 11 attacks has been the attitude of his wife.

"I guess Sept. 11 came around and just like that her views changed," he said, snapping his fingers. He explained that she wants him to leave the military because of the potential danger, but also has never been so proud of his work .

"She finally realized how important the job is that we do," he said.


 
 

     
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 © 2001 Medill News Service, Northwestern University