E. W. Tompkins - 101 Road Patrol Tales: Memoirs of a Chippie of the California Highway Patrol

Memoirs of a Chippie of the California Highway Patrol
2011 E.W. Tompkins Jr. All rights reserved.

Cover photograph courtesy of Jos Ybarra.

Published by Craven Street Books,
an imprint of Linden Publishing.
2006 S. Mary, Fresno, California, 93721
559-233-6633 / 800-345-4447
CravenStreetBooks.com

Craven Street Books is a trademark of Linden Publishing, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-610350-00-6
135798642

Printed in the USA on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file.

I can hear the womans piercing high-low screams over the noise of the wind and the horizontally driven, torrential rain that is interspersed with claps of thunder. And, I am three hundred to five hundred feet away from her. I have just arrived at the scene of this dispatched accident call.

When the dispatcher gave me the call, she advised the accident was an 1183, radio code for an accident with details unknown. I knew an 11-83 could be anything from an aircraft crashing into a gas tanker on a freeway to the I-think-I-possibly-perhaps-kind-of-sort-of-heard-a-car-hit-another-car type report, but I could not understand why it was that whomever called in this accident to the dispatcher couldnt have provided just a bit of a clue, so appropriate help, besides just me, could be enrolled. In front of me on this October Saturday afternoon on a usually busy two-lane, rural highway in Fresno County, California, as best as I can determine in the fire-hose rain, are two occupied cars trapped between three downed utility poles. The poles are lying completely across the highway, blocking it. Apparently, the poles were blown down by the wind. The electric and telephone wires, their wire-support cables, and the guy wires of the poles have broken loose and are tangled and snaked over the north-south highway. They are also wrapped around the front car. Each car is in its own section between the poles. The distance between the first downed pole in front of me and the third downed pole south of me is about one-third of a mile. The power lines had been arcing. Supposedly, according to training information, power lines arc three times before shutting themselves off. Emphasis on supposedly.

After quickly surveying the scene, I radio my dispatcher. I describe the situation and request help: another unit to assist, and the utility company to do its thing. I tell her I will advise about the need for an ambulance after going to check on the welfare of the vehicles occupants.

All units are 10-6 (busy) on other crashes, the dispatcher replies, and there is no one available to assist you. Wonderful. (The old-timers would say with a condescending sniff: What the hell. Its only one crash. Only need to send one highway patrolman.)

I request that when a unit becomes free she send it to me to assist in the rescue effort.

With that done, I button the top button of my raincoat collar, which partially protects a soaker towel I have around my neck, pull my hat with my rain cover on it down on my head, grab my trusty cigar boxsized first aid kit that contains only bandages, take a deep here-goes breath, and move into the downed lines toward the cars occupants.

It certainly would be handier if I could have driven my patrol car up to the other cars if I needed other things, such as the radio, but the pole blockage killed that possibility. (In those days, we didnt have the handy portable radios todays troops enjoy. With a portable radio, I wouldnt be married to the patrol car as I was then.)

The womans screams continue through the billowing sheets of rain as I advance toward her location.

I tippy-toe over the wet roadway through the tangled power lines and their cables, not knowing if I am going to get zapped or not. But I have to go. That womans screams have my attention.

The first person I reach, because his door is mostly unencumbered by the wires and cables, is the driver of the screamers car, an elderly male. He is cut in a multitude of places from the glass of his broken drivers side window. When the nearest pole fell, the power wire and support cable hit his window, firing the shards onto him as though from a shotgun. He is bleeding, but not in a major way (that opinion could depend on whos doing the bleeding), and he is otherwise in apparently good condition, especially given his seniority. Because the rain and wind are blasting through his window opening, I elect not to apply the bandages just then. They would have only gotten wet and not been effective. Unfortunately for me, I need to return to the patrol car through the downed wires. I have to get a plastic blanket to cover his window opening before I can bandage him.

The elderly drivers passenger, the screamer, is totally freaked out, but not otherwise injured. When the poles fell onto the roadway, the couples car almost collided with the first pole, but luckily it didnt. But the then-charged electric lines fell onto and around the car. The lines began arcing. In doing so, the arc creates a loud snapping electrical buzzing pop, followed by a huge shower of sparks. In her case, this was happening on the car hood where she could see, and hear, very closely through the windshield. Because of the arcing, the screamer thought she was being electrocuted. She wasnt. The car tires insulated her inside the car. She didnt know that, or care. She just wanted out. But she couldnt exit due to the wires and cables blocking her door and the elderly injured driver blocking the other door. (Luckwise, she should be glad she couldnt get out. If she stepped out when the lines were hot, and she had been touching the car, she would have grounded herself and been zapped big time. Perhaps cooked.)

I finally get her to understand the show is over and she is safe (I hope). I ask her to just sit there calmly. Help is coming from the utility company, I tell her.

You know, I say, I walked here through the wires and the rain, and Im okay, so youre okay, too, right?

Yea a a h, she stutters, unconvinced.

Okay, I say, Im going to go back to check the driver of the car behind you. Try to get calm. Ill be back.

Ok ay, she says.

As I walk away toward the other car, she resumes screaming.

Where is my help?

Arriving at the other car, I find a young girl behind the wheel. She is cool, calm, composed, and uninjured. She is just sitting there waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

Is it safe to get out? she asks.

I think so; I was okay walking down here.

Are the other people injured? I saw you looking them over.

The driver has multiple cuts and needs to be bandaged. But his door window is broken out, and the wind and rain are pouring in on him. I need to go back to my patrol car for a plastic blanket to use to put over the window to shield him from the rain. The passenger is frightened, because of the wires arcing and sparking.

Oh, those wires sparked all right. They really sparked big three times, she says. Would you like for me to go over there and sit with them to see if I can help calm her down? I can hear her screaming back here.

The girl leaves the sanctuary of her car and walks with me in the driving rain to the couples car. She gets into the back seat through the drivers door, and immediately begins talking to the woman, trying to calm her down. I continue to the patrol car for the plastic blanket.