Shallow Water Blackout by Craig Marley ©1996 All Rights Reserved

It was early in my life that I found a special affinity for the water. At five, I was in the top 10 competitive swimmers in the country. By the age of 15, I broke the national high school record in the 100 yard breastroke and was ranked in the top five in the 200 individual medley. Training meant lap after lap of hard work in a reclusive wet environment. There was team spirit in swimming but it was not a team sport. For ten years, I swam for and was coached by the legendary . George was the Olympic swim coach for three different Olympic Games. He later coached the Stanford women's swim team to NCAA championships. My teammates included Olympians and world record holders, , , , , and others. I lost interest in competitive swimming when I was 17 and never competed at the world class or Olympic level. But my interest and enjoyment of water sports and underwater activity was always an important part of my life.

One of the games my swimmates and I played during less structured training time was an underwater game called Shark & Minnow. This game was played in the deep diving pool used for platform diving. The water depth was 15 feet over the entire pool. The diving pool was 60 feet long and 30 feet wide. One person was selected to be the first Shark. The Shark stood on the opposite side of the pool from all the Minnows. Everyone, boys and girls alike, ages 12 through 22, were Minnows. The Shark would yell "go" and everyone would dive into the water together. The object of the game was to swim underwater to the opposite side of the pool holding your breath. If a Minnow surfaced for a breath, they were caught, and were now one of the Sharks. Those who held their breath the longest, were the last to get caught. Once a Shark came to the surface, they could recover, take another breath and resume their attack. But Minnows must make it to the opposite side with only one breath. Sharks gradually grew in numbers, first by attacking all the smaller Minnows. As the gang of small Sharks grew and their average size increased, they would go after larger and more determined Minnows. This made it increasingly more difficult for the remaining Minnows to avoid their grasp. The remaining Minnows had to hold their breath for up to two minutes to make it safely to the opposite side. As the game worn on, the Sharks would select a victim, develop a strategy for attacking the head, arms, torso and legs and close in on the Minnow in mass. They usually trapped their prey about midway across the pool near the bottom. There was a great deal of clawing, kicking and punching, particularly from the larger, older, more agressive swimmers. Occasionally, a younger player would surface crying in pain, but it was all part of the game. Towards the end, when there was a large group of Sharks and only two or three Minnows, the game became a test of willpower and timing. Those who remained no longer had the smaller Minnows as sacrificial pawns. It was now a test of who could hold their breath the longest. For the remaining Minnows it was every man for himself.

It was during these final rounds that I learned to relax underwater and to make every molecule of oxygen work to my benefit. The brain needed oxygen, the body could do without. I dove to the deepest part of the pool and grabbed the heavy cast iron grill guarding the 12" diameter pool drain. The grill weighed over 50 pounds and was the perfect human anchor for these final rounds. It was virtually impossible for the Sharks to break my grip on the cast iron grill.

One by one the Sharks attacked, wrapping their legs about my torso, squeezing my rib cage, tearing at my arms and twisting my head. They came in groups of two, three and four. Off came my swim trunks but I did not release my grip. My lungs ached but I would not release my death grip. Gradually the Sharks tired and their numbers thinned. When the larger Sharks ran out of breath and went for the surface to re-energize their lungs I seized the moment. In a flash, I pushed off the cast iron drain grill and reached the opposite wall just seconds before another attack. I was always the last to be captured.

Underwater swimming while breath holding is a dangerous activity which has claimed many lives. I recall a 16 year old swimmer named Jackie Strand died tying to swim underwater while holding his breath. He was a nationally ranked freestyler and a top prospect for the Olympic games. Rapid breathing, or hyperventilation, compounds the problem. During hyperventilation the natural balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide is reversed. Rapid deep breathing reduces the levels of carbon dioxide in the blood stream. During normal respiratory activity, the human body senses the buildup of carbon dioxide and stimulates the nerves which urge us to breath. The neuro-chemical stimulant from carbon dioxide buildup works at rest, during strenuous work or athletic activity. Most of us think the urge to breath, is caused by running out of oxygen. We have all felt desperate, drowning feeling and thought we were near death. Lack of oxygen does NOT cause us to breath. The buildup of carbon dioxide triggers the urge to breath. For underwater swimmers, hyperventilation reduces the carbon dioxide levels and they run out of oxygen BEFORE they have the urge to breath. When the oxygen level drops, the brain shuts down and humans simply become unconscious. If this happens underwater, in the absence of an immediate rescue, the victim drowns.

My first WESPAC tour with UDT-11 in the summer of 1963 offered fresh opportunities to test my underwater skills in both free diving and underwater distance swimming. The ocean waters surrounding Subic Bay were clear and warm. From the surface, you could see the coral covered bottom 100 feet below. Roger Cook, Jerry Lynnes, Bobby Lee Clark, Dave "Skinner" Devine and I spent many of our free time searching for new dive spots. We started out our dive days with fresh scuba tanks, but after one or two dives, the tanks were empty and we had to resort to free diving while holding our breath.

Jerry Lynnes and I excelled in free diving. Both of us repeatedly dove to 100 feet and held our breath for two minutes or more before surfacing. It was a marvelous experience. Free diving is silent. There are no bubbles or hissing from a scuba regulator.

The fish do not flee free divers. Free divers are no threat to the fish. They are only a quiet body slowing drifting down. Underwater creatures welcomed me into their undersea playground. I joined the surgeon fish, groupers, rays, trumpets, angelfish, puffers, and schooling anchovies in a strange undersea world. I was no longer feared by these creatures. I came in peace.

Several weeks after I arrived in Subic Bay, Roger Cook and I went to the base swimming pool for a workout. It was a typical hot, muggy Philippine afternoon. The pool water was murky due to poor filtration and you could not see the bottom 6 feet below. The pool was designed for short coarse competition with a length of 25 meters. There were six lanes across with plastic lane lines. A couple of Filipino lifeguards had just arrived and were preparing the pool for the evening crowd of Navy and Marine dependents. They were going to have a poolside barbecue that evening.

After swimming a mile or so at a modest pace, I decided to see how far I could swim underwater while holding my breath. Hyperventilation would be required if I was going to set any records that day. I wanted to test my skill and exceed my previous best of 100 yards. I put all the possible dangers out of my mind. My goal was to swim 125 meters, five laps, underwater, on a single breath.

On my first attempt, I sat on the pool deck and hyperventilated for about 30 seconds, deeply exhaling, to rid my lungs of all stale air, then inhaling to full lung capacity. At the top of the inhalation, the cycle quickly reversed, exhaling the air with great force. This was repeated, until lightheadedness came over me. A final breath and I dove into the milky white water. Staying near the bottom, I used long breastrokes, bringing both arms down the full length of my body. Fins were not allowed. My slow frog kick with a slight dolphin kick at the end of each stroke was efficient and conserved my energy. I set a comfortable pace that could be maintain for several laps. At the end of the first lap my head and body felt great. A deliberate turn at the end of the first lap was executed without curling my body or compressing my lungs. I concentrated on staying relaxed. That was the key to swimming long distances underwater while holding a single breath for long periods of time. At the end of the second lap my body sill felt good and I turned for the third lap. Fifty meters down, 75 meters to go. The first urge to breath was felt midway through the third lap. It was just a reminder in my mind, a stress riser, a signal that humans are land breathing creatures. I fought the sensation and concentrated on my goal. Staying relaxed and focused was critical.

Midway through the fourth lap the drowning sensation came over me and my lungs began to feel the fire. Not going to make it this time, I thought. The wall was only five meters away and my body was in pain. My fingertips reached for the pool wall at the end of the fourth lap as the spent air from my lungs was exhaled. Surfacing, I gasped for new life. My first few breaths were in rapid succession. Slowly my strength returned. This was, after all, only the first attempt.

After a fifteen minute rest it was time to try again. The goal was a full 125 meters, five laps of the pool. More hyperventilation was needed to overcome the urge to breath. The possibility of dying was not a factor. The goal was five laps. My hyperventilation cycle began.

Deeper inhalation and deeper exhalation was essential to reduce the amount of carbon dioxide in my blood to the lowest possible level. A minute passed and I began to feel the lightheadedness from over hyperventilation. A couple of more deeper breaths and I dove headfirst to start my underwater journey.

The first and second laps went by as if time stood still. Without a care, the third lap came and went. Now on lap four I thought this was too easy, maybe I could do six laps. There was never any sensation to breath. The pool bottom passed below with each successive stroke. Visibility was limited to about 5 feet due to the murkyness of the water, so it was hard to determine exactly where I was.

Roger Cook was on the pool deck, casually aware that I was swimming underwater, somewhere in one of the lanes. He was certainly not concerned at that time. A few minutes later he raised his head to look at the pool surface. I was nowhere in sight. Roger stood up and began to look down into the milky water.

I finished the fourth lap feeling great and turned into lap number five. A few strokes more and the fifth lap would be mine. Then nothing, blackness, only ebony silence. No sensations, no vision, no touch, no smell. Nothing.

It seemed like a minute or two passed, then I saw the beacon, the light. It was white, intense in the center with rays emanating from the center outwards. The rays of light pulsated, their energy ebbing and retreating in a slow and regular rhythm. There was no conscious thought of danger or fear. The vision was there before my eyes but had no meaning. I felt drawn to the light, it had a power over me, was calling me, seeking me out. There was no pain. I was aware of my arms, legs and head, but it I was in another dimension, a type of dreamstate. The long rays of white light nearly touched me. I was surrounded by only blackness and nothing else. The light above shown down up me and it appeared to be a signal, a direction. I slowly drifted towards the light. It was calling me closer. There was the sensation of boundaries to this place but I could not see them or determine their location in the darkness. Perhaps I was in a tunnel, a time-space tunnel.

I slowly drifted upwards like a helicopter ride. Then my view changed. I no longer looked upward towards the light. I now looked down and saw my body on the pool deck from what appeared to be 20 or 30 feet above. There was Roger Cook hovering over me with the two Filipino lifeguards at his side. I was on my back, facing up, eyes closed, arms and legs spread. Roger rolled my over to my stomach. I sensed his concern but could not clearly understand if there was a problem. I had no idea or thought that I was the focus of his attention or the one in trouble. It seemed like 15 or 20 seconds went by as I hovered over my still body lying there on the pool deck.

Suddenly, the white light went out. All motion ceased. Slowly at first, then with greater speed, I was drawn back down the dark tunnel to the pool deck, towards my body. As I moved closer, my last vision was from about five feet off the deck, directly above my motionless body.

I remember coughing once or twice as the flash of sunlight bore into my now open eyes. Roger was screaming at me but I do not remember what he was saying. I looked straight up at him and saw the blue sky and wispy white clouds above. There was more noise, yelling, screaming and more commotion much of which I do not recall. After several minutes a Navy field ambulance came and I was placed on a stretcher and taken to the base hospital. I was not quite conscious nor did I fully understand what was happening. I remember being in and out of consciousness during the ride to the hospital. I am sure the Navy corpsman was administering pure oxygen to me, but I have no memory of the mask over my nose or mouth.

My first visions after the ride to the hospital are of the ward and my hospital bed. But this vision is only brief. Next I remember the leaving the hospital with a terrible headache. I was driven back to the barracks and went to sleep for 12 hours. The next day, I rejoined my UDT-11 squad as if nothing had happened.

I did not talk about my out of body experience for several years. I was not proud of the event, nor was I ashamed. It was just not easy find the words to describe the sensations I felt or the visions that danced in my mind. And I was not sure I wanted to tell this story to the teams. Who would listen to this crazy frog?

I soon realized what had actually happened that fateful day. I hyperventilated too much and drove the level of carbon dioxide in my blood far below its normal state. With my blood chemistry level distorted I had no sensation of drowning or any urge to breath. As it was, my oxygen level was depleted passed the point where consciousness is maintained and I blacked out from anoxia, lack of oxygen, before I had any urge to breath. Shallow water blackout is what they call it. I died from shallow water blackout. And while I lay there unconscious on the bottom of the Subic Bay pool, I had a clinical out of body experience.

By all best estimates, I was submerged in the murky white pool water for approximately seven minutes. Roger Cook began looking for me after 3-4 minutes. He searched up and down the pool and finally found me lying face down halfway through my fifth lap. Roger pulled me to the pool deck and worked on me for about 5 minutes before I first showed any signs of life. The doctors were amazed that I lived or did not have crippling brain damage. I was fortunate to be in good physical condition, and had no water in my lungs. If there had been any water in my lungs I could not have been aspirated. It would have meant certain death. The good lord must surely have been taking care of me that day. Thank you God. And thank you Roger Cook. I will never forget you or the out of body experience you allowed me to tell my children.