Zapata Incorporated

This article first appeared on the GoUpstate website on November 13, 2011.

BY: Kim Kimzey, kim.kimzey@shj.com

Terry Farmer of Spartanburg has been mere inches away from mines, grenades and other munitions.

As an explosive ordnance disposal technician, his task was to dispose of or capture lethal devices to protect ships and service members.

Those responsibilities would rattle most people’s nerves. Farmer, however, is matter of fact and humble.

“It’s all a skilled trade,” said Farmer, a retired U.S. Navy chief warrant officer 4.

It’s a “trade” he’s done for almost 40 years, and he jokes he still has enough fingers to order five beers with one hand.

As a young man, Farmer did not envision a military career, but he was drafted into the U.S. Army during the Vietnam War.

“My mother was scared to death that I was going to go over to Vietnam and die in a foxhole,” he said.

Farmer completed basic training but later went into the Navy, where he trained in communications. That did not really “enthuse” him and there was a need for people to safely explode and dispose of bombs, so Farmer volunteered for explosive ordnance disposal (EOD) training.

Joining the elite group proved physically and mentally rigorous. His training took place in three phases: 10 weeks of underwater swimmer school; four weeks in army chemical munitions; and 26 weeks in EOD school.

His group started out with 17 people. Seven finished.

The diving portion of training was strenuous and tested his muscle, as well as his mind. Service members trained for a couple of hours each morning then spent time in the classroom.

After the second week, they donned scuba gear.

Instructors took the trainees to the ocean, told them to swim to the bottom with a compass and navigate a course. If they resurfaced once to get their bearings, it counted against them. Farmer recalled that you failed if you resurfaced twice.

“There were times when I called home and said, ‘I don’t know if I’m going to make it.’ You know, it was tough, and I was young.”

Farmer needed mental rigor to make it through training. Those in charge tried to “psyche” out trainees, Farmer recalled.

“(An) instructor came in whom we had never seen before and said, ‘Here’s the deal. Usually by this point, we don’t have this many of you guys left in a class, and we don’t have enough outfits for all of you, so I’m going to take you out and do physical training tomorrow morning, and we’re going to train until two of you quit.’ ”

Two guys quit soon after training began.

“It really wasn’t any tougher,” he said of that day.

Asleep in the barracks, an instructor woke them, had them assume the push-up position, told them not to move then left.

“Your arms are shaking, and you’re afraid to do anything ’cause you don’t know who’s watching ’til people just finally collapse,” Farmer said.

During trying moments, Farmer thought back to his communications training. Suddenly, talking over a radio and sending teletype messages didn’t seem so bad. During those difficult periods, Farmer saw that others had gone before him and had endured the training.

EOD techs date back to World War II, when they disposed of unexploded Nazi ordnance.

“To make it through training, you have to be convinced that EOD is the only job for you,” he said. “If you are simply looking for a marketable job skill, there are many easier paths to take.”

What did his mother, who feared he might perish in a foxhole, think?

“She didn’t know what it was. The only thing she asked is, ‘Is it dangerous?’ I said, ‘Not if you know what you’re doing,’ which is the truth. I mean, it’s a skilled trade.”

Farmer “always tried to take the road less traveled.” Fewer than 200 EOD technicians were in the Navy when he finished training, Farmer said.

His military career spanned 26 years.

A “man cave” in his Spartanburg home is decorated with memorabilia, awards and decorations, including a Bronze Star with combat “V” device for valor, a Meritorious Service Medal, a Navy Commendation Medal, two Navy Achievement Medals, Combat Action Ribbon, Arctic Service Ribbon and several unit commendation and marksmanship ribbons.

Farmer’s major deployments included Operation Nimbus Moon in 1974, in which he helped clear the Suez Canal of ordnance after the war between Israel and Egypt.

He cleared sea mines in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Storm and was awarded a Bronze Star for his “heroic achievement in connection with combat operations,” for his service as officer in charge of an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit. His team disposed of or captured 39 mines in Desert Storm.

Farmer said when the group disposed of a mine, they would go underwater, place an explosive charge on the device, run a detonating cord to the surface, get back on a rubber boat, attach a time fuse, light it, leave the area and “watch it go.”

Most mines in the Persian Gulf were 130 to 140 feet in the water, he said. The depth, salinity, as well as the silt and sand kicked up by EOD techs made seeing difficult.

No matter how steeled the nerves, apprehension always crept in when approaching munitions.

The Persian Gulf is pretty barren, he said, and a mine can become an artificial reef. He once approached a mine fearful the big fish swimming around might set it off.

“The thing that’s got me through a lot of situations is thinking about all the people that have done it before me,” he said.

He laughed when asked how he maintained his composure. “It’s just what you’re trained to do. It’s not difficult.”

Farmer said he also was assigned to Secret Service duty.

When former President Richard Nixon decided he wanted to go out on the presidential yacht, it was searched, and service members swam beneath the hull to make sure there were no charges attached. Farmer said he provided protection to every president from Nixon to Bill Clinton, as well as several vice presidents and other heads of state.

He recalled President George H.W. Bush wanted to fish on New Year’s Day, when it was 22 degrees outside. As the senior guy, Farmer ordered others into the water to search the hull of the boat while he searched inside. No one informed him about the large bass in Barbara Bush’s bait well on the boat, and he felt it when he swished his hand in the well.

“They put that fish in there so they would have something to show the photographers … when they came back in off the lake in case she didn’t catch anything. But she ended up catching more fish than anybody out there,” Farmer said.

Farmer retired from the Navy in 1997 and has worked for several civilian companies and supervised the clearance of unexploded ordnance from former defense sites.

Farmer works for Zapata Inc., a Charlotte, N.C.-based company that “is a full service environmental, facilities, infrastructure and military munitions response firm,” according to its website. The company is under contract to perform an investigation and feasibility study at Camp Croft, beginning later in the fall. Farmer will take part in the investigation.

Retirement
After his travels around the country and world, Farmer decided to retire to the area of the country he liked best.

The Spartanburg native attended St. Paul the Apostle Catholic School, Jenkins Junior High School and Spartanburg High School. He and his wife, Ginni, have a son and recently welcomed their second granddaughter.

Don Bramblett has known Farmer since they met at Jenkins Junior High School.

“He never backed down from anything,” Bramblett said.

Bramblett considers his friend a “genuine hero” as well as a “very humble person.”

“Terry’s job in the Navy was to disarm these floating IEDs, wherever they popped up, a very dangerous job that requires high skill as well as lots of courage. You don’t hear about this type of heroism in the military, because little is written about this necessary task to keep our worldwide freedom of movement intact,” Bramblett said.