His arms, face and neck covered in red, flaky burns, Dan Springborg walked right past the main desk at Albert Lea Medical Center. When he reached the hall to the emergency room, a hospital worker tried to stop him.

&uot;Sir, I need you to stop. Sir, I need you …&uot; a hospital worker told him repeatedly.

But Springborg just walked on, saying he needed a doctor.

He was contaminated with anhydrous ammonium, like many children that afternoon had been. When he got to the emergency room, someone yelled &uot;everybody stand back.&uot;

&uot;I need a doctor,&uot; Springborg said, complaining of bleeding lungs, and spitting red saliva onto his hand. He sounded serious.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t burned; he was covered in make-up. And he hadn’t really damaged an anhydrous ammonium tank, killing a bus driver and injuring a school bus load of kids in Glenville.

He was the mock villain in a disaster drill in which he played a disgruntled employee at EXOL who decided to cause some damage. The exercise was intended to give emergency agencies in the area practice in responding to a terrorism disaster and the unexpected complications that can arise. After Springborg was ushered out of the ER, it was quarantined.

The whole drill involved several local fire departments, two hospitals, a hazardous materials team from Rochester, more than six ambulances and lots of other volunteers. Health and emergency workers from the surrounding area observed.

Across the country, emergency response agencies like hospitals and fire departments normally have disaster drills to be certified for certain accreditations. In Freeborn County, they have often involved smaller-scale accidents, although sometimes larger ones like a tornado. This year’s had a malevolent tone and was one of the largest ever in the county.

&uot;This is all because of 9-11, making sure we prepared for terrorism,&uot; said Brad Neibuhr, emergency services coordinator for ALMC. The money for the demonstration came from the Department of Homeland Security. He said it was also a good opportunity for different agencies to learn how to work together better, but also a chance to test equipment bought after 9-11 in case of a chemical spills or terrorism.

At 4 p.m., Glenville firefighters began to show up at rusty 1950s school bus with no front tires, parked along County Road 13. Their bus driver had died of inhalation and crashed the bus after driver into an anhydrous ammonium cloud, according to the scenario planners had been crafting since February. About 20 kids sat in inside, yelling and wailing for help. It was supposed to make it difficult for responders to hear, as in a normal emergency.

Glenville firefighters began by knocking on the door trying to talk to the driver, noting the real smell of ammonia near the door. &uot;Driver, can you get out?&uot; a firefighter asked. Some children were taken to a fire wagon, and within 10 minutes a decontamination tank was set up to hose down the kids.

Some stayed in because of neck and back injuries, and some were airlifted.

Few details were spared. Standing across from the wreckage, Lori Miller cried, or at seemed to be crying, as her bottom lip and voice quivered.

A response volunteer comforted her as she worried about her daughter. &uot;She never rides this bus, ever,&uot; Miller said. &uot;She was just going home with a girlfriend.&uot;

She said her daughter Jaci, 12, was still in a fire wagon after being removed from the bus. &uot;They haven’t brought her out yet. I don’t know why.&uot;

Eventually, Jaci emerged smiling, bracing her body as firefighters hosed her down.

Meanwhile, a hazardous materials team from Rochester attempted to stop the leak and quarantine the area near EXOL. Hospital workers admitted patients, and dealt with the huge influx of patients. And law enforcement tried to track down Springborg, who was driving his mother’s car to avoid detection.

After the demonstration, Freeborn County Sheriff Mark Harig said he thought the drill was a success. &uot;Sure, there’s room for improvement, but a lot of it is honing skills,&uot; he said &uot;It’s good practice working together.&uot;

He said it gave emergency workers a chance to discuss their work and learn from each other.

Harig was impressed by some of the unplanned innovation that teams came up with.

At one point, they divided communication into three radio bands to better communicate. After all the kids had been removed from the bus, crews walked through the nearby tall grass and soybeans in case someone had left the bus and passed out before emergency crews arrived. &uot;A lot of it is little things like that,&uot; he said.

He said there were also some mistakes, like an emergency crew driving through a contaminated area, or police pulling up next to Springborg and not noticing him.

Another unexpected surprise was Springborg going to the emergency room. The hospital workers had to quarantine the ER until they found out that anhydrous ammonium that had burned Springborg wouldn’t contaminate the ER, although other chemicals would. Springborg was then &uot;transported&uot; to St. Marys after he went into shock, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

(Contact Tim Sturrock at tim.sturrock@albertleatribune.com or 379-3438.)