It’s a Gas!

According to Wikipedia, “The compound 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile (also called o-chlorobenzylidene malononitrile; chemical formula: C10H5ClN2), a cyanocarbon, is the defining component of tear gas commonly referred to as CS gas, which is used as a riot control agent.  Exposure causes a burning sensation and tearing of the eyes to the extent that the subject cannot keep his or her eyes open, and a burning irritation of the mucous membranes of the nose, mouth and throat, resulting in profuse coughing, nasal mucus discharge, disorientation, and difficulty breathing, partially incapacitating the subject”

That’s a pretty impersonal description of a very personal substance.

Let me share with you some of my own experiences with CS gas.

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If you were able to read through that rather boring description, you probably noticed that CS is “the defining component of tear gas commonly referred to as CS gas, which is used as a riot control agent.” 

I was first introduced to tear gas by television.  In the news we saw war protestors gassed and were impressed by how sick they looked. 

In action adventure movies I saw that truly macho heroes could be gassed and simply grunt or cough a little and continue in their efforts to save the day.

Let me clarify that macho movie stuff with one word, im-poss-i-ble…with the emphasis on the “bull!”

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We aspiring recruits were taught about CS gas in Marine Corps boot camp.  Before long we were treated to the gas chamber portion of our training.

Outside the chamber, we were told to don and clear our gas masks (to clear it means to expel air to force out any gas that might have gotten in) and test the seal.  Then we were marched into the chamber and told that, upon the instructor’s command, we would remove our masks and put them in the cary-pouch while holding our breath, then clearly say our name, date of birth, and service number.  When the instructor heard that, he would direct us to replace the mask and leave the building.

I was excited and eager for another chance to show the weaker recruits how a tough country boy could laugh at discomfort.

Remember that old saying, “Pride cometh before the fall”?

Yeah.

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Upon command I removed and put away my mask.  The next order was to speak.  Because we had been holding our breath, when we started to speak we had to first exhale the used air and take a breath.

I have felt more physical pain than that but I honestly can’t remember when.

I started by shouting, “David!” and my mind went blank.  I couldn’t remember my middle initial, or my last name, or my date of birth, or my service number…or even what I was supposed to be saying…but, I remembered that I had to speak before I could leave that room full of gaseous fire.  I started yelling, “La la la la la la la!” while moving my lips enough to change the sounds and looking like I might have been saying what I was supposed to.

The instructor looked at me and ordered, “Go!”

And I went, at exactly the same time that about 20 other recruits tried to exit through the door…the door that was big enough for one person at a time.

Somehow all 20 made it through the door within less than a second – twenty men spewing incredible amounts of mucus, tears, and saliva all at the same time.  I never knew that snot could hang three feet from someone’s nose, while tears and slobber cascaded down it.

But it all happened…at once.

Yeah, yuck.

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A year or so later, after undergoing some gas training in the field, I found a used CS gas canister.  My first thought was, “The perfect souvenir!”  I had already picked up a spoon (the part of a grenade that pops off with an audible ‘ping’ and starts the final explosion…or the chemical process that produces gas).  I knew I would be able to put it back onto the exhausted gas grenade canister to make what would look like a live tear gas grenade.

It would look so cool on my book shelf back at the barracks, and later at home.

What I hadn’t taken into account was how gas grenades work.  Rather than the gas being released from a pressurized tank, it is produced by a chemical process…one that occurs quickly for a short time…but keeps going for hours and hours…and hours, like, after I got the canister back to my room and placed it on my bookshelf.

Yeah.

I tossed the gas canister out of the room, but not before my roommates and I suffered through watery eyes and coughing fits. 

I personally also suffered through a good cussing by my roommates.

The cussing didn’t hurt much, at least not as much as the gassing.

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A few years later, during a field exercise, one of my gunnery sergeants decided it was the perfect time to give the troops some impromptu gas training.

It just so happens that the day he picked for the training was a morning after my (field artillery) section had been through a full night-long fire mission, while rain poured down, soaking anything not contained in something waterproof.  We couldn’t abandon the gun in the middle of a fire mission.  So, when we finally got a break, all my men and I had pulled out everything wet and hung it spread out on bushes to dry in the breeze.

When Gunny McKnight walked by, pipe clenched in his teeth, I glanced at him and noticed the gas grenade in his hands.

As I said, the bushes were festooned with inside-out sleeping bags, clothing (even underwear), and gas mask pouches.  In other words, none of us had our gas masks with us at that time.

I just knew he wouldn’t gas a bunch of his troops who’d just had a night like we’d been through, and who were not near the place they had stowed their gas masks.  I just knew Gunny wouldn’t expose all our clothing and sleeping gear to the gas because, if he did, everything would be permeated by the gas, making for a long, itchy time, both days and nights, until the gas finally “wore off.”

I was wrong…about Gunny.

Gunnery sergeant McKnight pushed the clip, pulled the pin, and tossed the grenade directly upwind of my men and myself.

My first thought upon seeing that, was that I couldn’t let my men go through that.

That’s what a good sergeant does.

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Like a flash I ran to the canister, which was just starting to emit gas, and kicked it in a direction which would blow gas away from my troops.  

I heard my men cheering for their section chief who, they knew, had just saved them from several very uncomfortable days.

Then they began to laugh.

What?  Why?

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I didn’t have to wonder very long.  I heard some very strong language coming from my gunnery sergeant.  Gunny, who had been trying to teach my men to always carry their gas masks…wasn’t carrying his.

Enshrouded by the cloud of noxious gas from his own grenade, Gunny was running as fast as he could away from the path of the gas cloud…or should I say, what he thought was the path of the gas cloud.  Remember, when you are exposed to CS gas, your eyes tear up making it virtually impossible to see.

Instead of running away from the path of gas, Gunny was running with the traveling gas cloud.  Even though I thought it served him right to be caught by his own trick, I really hoped the gas-blinded man wouldn’t run head first into one of the big three-foot-thick pine trees our unit was emplaced among.

He didn’t, but…

When he realized he must be running with the cloud of gas, he changed directions.  So, he didn’t hit one of the big trees; he hit one of the bushes…one of the bushes my troops had hung their sleeping bags and clothes on.  Tripped up by the branches, Gunny rolled on the ground for a moment.  He gasped for breath, sat up and screamed, “Matthews!  If you ever pull a (blanket-blank) stupid (blanket-blank-blank) trick like that again I’ll (blanket-blank-blank-blank) court martial you!”

My troops and I tried to stifle our laughter at Gunny’s predicament but it was hard.  For one thing, we knew that what I had done was actually a very good idea, and we also knew that Gunny really should have had his gas mask with him. 

Of course, the fact that he had someone else’s underwear hanging off his shoulders didn’t make us take him more seriously.

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Perhaps my favorite CS gas experience involved two of my favorite fellow marines.  First sergeant Gerard and sergeant Staihr were squared-away Marines who did nearly everything according to Marine Corps regulations while still maintaining a good wit and the flexibility of understanding.

We were in the field for training.  The first sergeant decided it was the perfect time to teach us all a lesson in awareness.  The unit had been doing well in the training, but the Vietnam vet knew that the worst thing you could do was get complacent in a combat situation.  Complacency leads to low awareness, and low awareness can leave a unit susceptible to some really, really bad things.

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First sergeant Gerard enlisted sergeant Staihr’s help and the two grabbed a couple CS grenades after dark.  They took plenty of time to be virtually silent as they snuck out upwind of the unit.  Once they were in position, First Sergeant signaled Staihr to pull the pin on his grenade.

The ruse would have gone off perfectly if both men had tossed their grenades downwind of themselves…or had donned their gas masks before they pulled the pins.

Now, chewing tobacco was common among field artillerymen.  Thus, both men had a “chaw” in their mouths at the time.  Yes, it’s a disgusting habit, but it is what it is, and many field artillery batterymen did it.

No, I didn’t. Never saw the point.

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The first sergeant and sergeant both held their canisters and pulled the pins.  As first sergeant Gerard studied the scene one more time, sergeant Staihr stood nervously.  Nervous men sometimes do things they know better than to do…and Staihr did.

He “milked” the grenade.

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When Marines have their very first introduction to hand grenades, one of the most important thing they learn is that you never, never, EVER milk a grenade.  Milking means you loosen your grip just a tiny, little bit after you’ve thumbed off the safety clip and pulled the famous grenade pin.  That little bit of movement allows the striker to flip around and hit the primer, at which point it becomes impossible to disarm the grenade and too late to change your mind.

In other words, if you do that, you’ve GOT to throw it IMMEDIATELY.

The first sergeant had plenty of experience under his belt.  He had heard lots of grenades being armed and immediately recognized the “pop” of the primer detonating.  He yelled, “Throw the (blankety-blank) thing you stupid (blankety-blank)!”

To be fair to sergeant Staihr, he tried to do what the first sergeant ordered him to do.  Unfortunately, he was eager to get the grenade out of his hand.  He threw his hand back and, just as he was about to start the forward motion that would toss the gas-bomb downwind, it slipped from his grasp and flipped back behind him…up wind.  Up wind of him…and the first sergeant.

First sergeant Gerard threw his grenade the proper direction and yelled, “Put on your (blankety-blank) mask!”

Now, I don’t care how hard you try to keep from inhaling CS gas, if you are in the gas-cloud for very long at all without a gas mask on you’re going to breath some in.

Staihr got his gas mask out of his pouch and raised it to his face.  Then he did what we all did when we practiced donning our gas masks in a safe environment.  He took a quick breath so he could blow it out to clear his mask.

There were two problems with that.  One, he was already in the gas cloud, and two, he was chewing tobacco.

The sudden intake of “air” sucked his “chaw” and plenty of its juices into his throat, along with a copious amount of CS gas…throat-scorching, lung-burning, eye-watering, CS gas.

As he pulled his gas mask over his face and the elastic straps behind his head, he would have tried to hold the exhalation valve closed and breathed out to clear his mask…except.  The sergeant’s body took over and did what natural instinct told it to…

Staihr threw up…inside his gas mask.

Yeah.

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My big friend ripped his vomit-filled mask off so that he could breathe, and took a quick breath, sucking in even more CS gas…and chewing tobacco juice…mixed with vomit. 

Instinct make him put the mask back on…the gas mask filled with vomit and chewing tobacco.

Still struggling to get some air, he sucked in only liquid…and threw up again…in his gas mask.

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First Sergeant was a take-charge kind of guy, as first sergeants are supposed to be.  He grabbed Staihr and herded the very ill sergeant into clear air.

Meanwhile the gun crew in the path of the still-moving gas cloud heard the yells and sounds of gagging and looked that way.  They clearly saw the gas cloud.  Several of them immediately sounded the alarm. 

“Gas!  Gas!”

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Thus it was that first sergeant Gerard and sergeant Staihr conducted a surprise CS gas training exercise.  We all learned a lesson about keeping high awareness at all times and keeping our gas masks with us at all times. 

And sergeant Staihr learned a valuable lesson about tear gas and chewing tobacco.

Yeah.

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