Vigorous Volunteers
With Whitaker leading the way, we soon head to appointments at other sites on the base. Along the route, he mentions that roughly 2,000 people work at Natick, about 1,700 of them civilians. On any given day several dozen soldiers might be serving as volunteers for testing.
“We generally recruit them out of basic training on an as-needed basis,” Whitaker says. “There is no pressure to participate, no recriminations if they decide to drop out. We have very strict protocols.”
Volunteers might enter experiments involving weather conditions; they might be put on special diets; they might be tested for endurance and agility after measured physical activity or hardship. The Army, for example, needs to know just how something like marksmanship might be affected after hours of, say, sleep deprivation.
We cross a street, a lawn, enter a three-story building. Our pace is quick; a day visitor can only scratch the surface of the Natick facilities.
Braving the Elements
At the Research Institute of Environmental Medicine, I meet one of Natick’s thermal mannequins, a copper creature electronically controlled to test the effectiveness of various fabrics in cold and heat. I visit the Doriot Climatic Chambers, where temperatures can be adjusted to minus 70 degrees Fahrenheit or 165 above. The chambers–there are two–have 15-foot fans in wind tunnels that can create 40 mph winds, and ceiling sprinklers that can drop four inches of rain an hour. After a brief tour, we head to the Thermal and Mountain Medicine Division, where I check out the “nitrogen room,” where the impact of various elevations on human performance is studied.
There, team leader Dr. Stephen Muza explains that climbers’ performance levels start dropping after they reach about 5,000 feet–to the tune of roughly 10 percent for every additional 3,500 feet. Elevation sickness can kick in around 8,000 feet, he says.
Hence mountain hikers at elevations of 5,000 feet or higher should consider budgeting more time, perhaps 10 percent, to reach their destination. They also will need more water at that height.
“At higher altitudes, you breathe more, so you lose water vapor,” says Muza, who has hiked peaks in Nepal and many other places to collect data. “You need to keep your hydration levels up.”
Food for Thought
Researcher Kathy-Lynn Evangelos, program integrator of Combat Feeding Directorate and AMC member, hikes closer to home, in the White Mountains. For her day trips, she packs gorp and Power Bars, not the freeze-dried foods, ready-to-eat meals (called MREs), or tube foods (served to high-altitude pilots) that her program develops and perfects.
She gives a rundown on the history of modern military fare—from the canned goods developed for 19th-century warfare to the K- and C-rations familiar to everyone who served in World War II (beans often a key component). Her program’s goal, she says, is always to make eating as pleasant as possible in extreme situations.
In a room across from a gigantic test kitchen, she pulls out a polyethylene envelope of chicken and noodles with a smaller separate packet inside containing magnesium, iron, and sodium. I pour a quarter cup of water into that smaller packet, and—poof—steam! In minutes, a hot meal. No flame needed.
In the Army such packets are called “flameless ration heaters.” They can occasionally be found under different brand names at sporting goods stores, I later learn, but they are not too popular with hikers because their packaging is still a bit bulky. But I consider what a godsend a quick hot meal like this would be for someone in an emergency.
Back to the Future
Toward the end of my tour, I learn something else that really resonates.
“We are looking again at wool,” says Scott Gaumont, project engineer with the Individual Systems and Equipment Team.
Wool? That old standby, the material that saved my neck at age 11 in Center Swamp, the material that 25 years ago lost serious ground to the synthetic fibers that dry and pack so easily?
A wool counter-attack?
Gaumont, a 35-year-old skier, has personal as well as professional reasons to know his textiles. He says that new manufacturing processes are making wool production more economical and more environmentally friendly. He adds that the National Wool Council and the Department of Agriculture have been promoting it.
Wool has always been a fine fabric in cold, says Gaumont. “Wool has a love-hate relationship with water. …The outer layer hates water; the inner layer loves it–absorbing up to 20 percent of its weight in water.” But the moisture still is kept from the skin.
“It’s similar to a wetsuit effect,” he says.
Gaumont also mentions that wool won’t melt like some synthetic (petroleum-based) fibers when exposed to high heat, which is always possible in a war zone.
As he discusses wool, he displays samples of cold-weather military apparel: polyester undergarments and shirts, polyester fleece, and water-breathable shells laminated in PTFE (polytetrafluoroethylene, the material used in Gore-Tex). “The membranes are too small for raindrops to enter, but large enough for moisture to escape,” he says.
It’s all stuff I took on my last adventure, as a crew member on a sailing trip last summer from Maine to the Azores. During cold, damp night watches, the inner synthetic layers managed to “wick away” the moisture just as their labels promised; a heavy wool sweater and Navy watch cap (bought at a surplus store) kept in the warmth; and a nylon windbreaker jacket and pants kept the wind at bay.
It all worked together just as it was supposed to, a good thing because there would be no campfires to stand around this time. During a gale, when cooking was impossible, we dined on “sail mix” (which those on land might call trail mix) and cold leftover macaroni and cheese. We didn’t go hungry, but we certainly would have welcomed a hot meal from Natick’s “flameless ration heaters.”
—Dirk Van Susteren is a freelance writer from Calais, Vt.
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