Cmdr. Charles Luttrell suits up with survival gear regularly but he never worries if crews have put his gear together safely.

“Safety crews have an unbelievable record,” Luttrell said. “It’s comforting to know just how critically they look at everything. Our people know how important their job is.”

Luttrell, the executive officer of VAQ-139, uses special pieces of metal to remind everyone in the squadron how dangerous their job can be.

Luttrell regularly shows results of one particular accident: selected hooks, screws, pins and rods, to reenforce the danger of the job.

During 19 surgeries over the last eight years, each piece has been inserted into, or pulled from, Luttrell’s own bones and joints.

Feb. 24, 1996, then-Lieutenant Luttrell, an electronic countermeasures officer in VAQ-135, ejected from an EA-6 Prowler flying over the Pacific Ocean about 100 miles southwest of San Diego, Calif.

The pilot lost consciousness and the radar-jamming jet flipped over and headed down at 600 mph.

At 3,000 feet, Luttrell looked up and saw water.

“I had to get out or die ejecting into the water,” Luttrell said from his office at Whidbey Island Naval Air Station.

Luttrell knew surviving an ejection from that altitude and airspeed wasn’t certain. He knew he’d die if he didn’t eject.

Although Luttrell said details of his first days in the hospital after the crash are hazy, he can remembers the ejection and rescue from the water with moment-by-moment clarity.

His missed on his first attempt to reach the eject lever. He made his second try.

Almost immediately, his right shoulder shattered.

“We’re taught to keep our arms in when we eject,” Luttrell said.

“But my right arm was flailing around from missing the first grab.”

The ejection blast forced Luttrel’s head to his knees.

His helmet was coming off his head. The microphone on his visor ripped through his chin and lodged in the roof of his mouth.

Now he had a broken nose and lower jaw, orbit and upper jaw.

Next his left upper arm broke, bones puncturing the skin.

His right humerous shattered.

Leg restraints couldn’t stop tibia and fibula in his left leg from snapping.

“I lost half an inch of bone,” Luttrell said.

Luttrell’s parachute inflated perfectly. If it hadn’t, he could never have reached the emergency pull. Both his arms were useless.

When he hit the salt water, sensors in his survival gear charged, inflating his life vest.

Luttrell started kicking his one good leg to stay afloat.

“I was circling like a duck,” he said.

As he rode the swells, Luttrell looked for his three other crewmembers.

He saw only Lt. Derrick Bussee.

Bussee, who had a broken arm and shattered shoulder blade, swam to Luttrell. Using his good arm, Bussee pulled Luttrell on top of him and wrapped his broken arm over Luttrell.

After about 15 minutes, they saw the rescue helicopter. The helicopter plucked the men out of the water flew back to the Kitty Hawk.

He’d also lost blood.

“The rescue swimmer told us he saw sharks in the water,” Luttell said.

Luttell’s core body temperature was 85 degrees. A core body temperature of 86 degrees is associated with permanent brain damage, Luttrell said.

After four hours, medical crews had Luttrell strong enough to helicopter him to San Diego Naval Hospital. The aviator had stopped breathing twice.

After nine months, Bussee flew again.

Luttrell didn’t fly for 28 months.

He spent months being rebuilt and rehabilitated.

Bone grafts from Luttrell’s pelvis repaired his left leg. He fought a bone infection for six months. A tissue graft from from his abdomen formed his left calf.

His arms and shoulders were pinned and wired together.

His left shoulder blade was shaved to match his right shoulder blade to even his upper back.

“I’m a Motrin-aholic,” Luttrell said. So far he’s had 19 surgeries. He expects more on his shoulders.

On his first trip back to Whidbey, Luttrell and his wheelchair were carried upstairs to squadron offices. One of the first offices he visited was the parachute shop.

“I asked them what they wanted me to bring them,” Luttrell said. Sailors initially refused any gift but eventually accepted several cases of sodas.

“They were happy to see someone come back,” Luttrell said.

The body of another pilot, Lt. Thomas Francis, was never found. Rescuers brought body of Lt. Cmdr. James Dee back to the Kitty Hawk.

Uneven torso harness straps had twisted in the ejection.

Now people “hang” Prowler flight crew members every year, checking the harness straps to make sure they are perfectly even.

Luttrell said returning to flight duty wasn’t too difficult. On his first flight he had only a moment of concern.

“When the engines roared right before take-off I got the heebie-jeebies and my stomach turned over, but I was fine once the landing gear pulled up,” Luttrell said.

Before Feb. 24, 1996, Luttrell said he’d never given much thought to his survival gear or the people who maintain it.

Nor has he thought much about it since he went back to flying.

“I’m very confident in the people who work on the planes and our gear,” Luttrelll said.

“I never have a doubt or concern.”