January of 2008, WILLOW was working buoys in Long Island Sound…swapping OPAREAs with JUNIPER for once. It was really their idea…WILLOW worked off the coast of Maine…beautiful and challenging, I loved it up there. JUNIPER had wanted to swap trips for a while so I relented and we did. A lot more shipping traffic than Maine but not as challenging ship driving. It did, however, give a chance to have a port call in New York City.
We were scheduled to pull in mid-morning and have a couple of nights in port before working our way back home to Newport. It was January and a storm had rolled in with low clouds and thick fog. Winds were calm but we were taking it slow due to the low vis; no rush to make it into port.
I was in the Wardroom having a coffee we were still an hour until sea detail. ESPN on in the background, the Patriots were playing Sunday night, and the XO and I chatting about sports when the sound powered phone squawked.
“Wardroom, XO.” After a brief pause. “Captain its BMC on the bridge.”
“What’s up Chief?”
“Sir, I think you need to come to the bridge…we are tracking a radio call, sounded like a Mayday. Group is on the radio as well .”
“I’ll be right up. Is OPS up there?”
“No, but I’ll call him now.”
“Sounds good.”
“X, possible Mayday, you want to come up to the bridge?”
“Yes sir. Want a refill?”
“Please.” It could be a long morning.
With fresh recharge, we made our way to the bridge.
“CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE.”
I returned the salute after being announced. OPS beat us to the bridge looking at our charting system.
“What do you got?”
“Group asked us to station keep while they try to track this ship down. A Mayday with name and geographic position but no follow up. They think it’s close.”
“Roger that.”
It took about a half an hour to get the complete (or what we thought was complete) picture. A fishing boat heading back to New York Harbor had some equipment break free and hit one of the crewman. He was hurt but they said not too bad. They thought he would be ok but were having a hard time getting back into port with the state of visibility asked the Coast Guard for help. They were holding station and were only 5 miles or so from WILLOW. We notified Group and the fishing boat we were en route their position and put them on a 15-minute comms schedule. OPS set the Rescue and Assistance Detail and had the corpsman piped to the bridge.
Once Doc made it up I got the First Lieutenant, EO, OPS, and of course XO together and went over our options.
“What do you think?”
“Doc, BMC, MK2 for the detail BM2 and EM1 as the boat crew.”
That was a good team. They would have Doc’s ready bags with them along with a DC kit in the boat with access and overhaul gear, pipe patching equipment and a couple types of fire extinguishers. It was a good team.
“OK, set the boat detail and keep it at the hip until we get close. Tell BM2 that with this fog she is going to be on her own at times. Good luck.”
Visibility had gotten even worse. Hopefully, we would get the team aboard, assess the situation - if he wasn’t too hurt we would transfer him to WILLOW or we could escort them in and keep Doc and BMC aboard the fishing boat. We had to find them first.
When we were within a mile we launched the small boat and had BM2 stay just astern as we made a slow steam to the fishing boat. At a half mile still nothing visually but a strong radar return where they should be and good comms. We gave the small boat the ok to come out from around our stern and gave them a straight shot to the distressed vessel.
We lost sight of WILLOW 1 in the cloudy murk just a few seconds after they crossed the bow. A common theme is waiting. What in real time took just a few minutes seemed liked six weeks until we heard BM2 tell us they Rescue Team safely aboard.
Waiting again until BMC called back.
“WILLOW, Doc is with the injured crewman. Is the Captain there?”
The BM1 handed me the VHF radio.
“Go ahead Chief.”
“Sir, I think this is more serious. Doc has him down in their galley. His chest is a deep blue. I would bet he has broken ribs. He might be coughing up blood.”
“Thanks Chief. We’ll get the Group on the phone. Have Doc give us a call when he has a diagnosis.”
OPS moved to the aft part of the bridge and pulled the cell phone out of its mount and called the Group. Ricky would let the Group know this may be more serious than we first thought.
There wasn’t much more to do. For five or six minutes the fog lifted a bit and we could see the ghostly outline of the Western rigged fishing boat but the fog piled back in and we lost sight of everything. Traffic was moderate at this location but our bridge crew was announcing our presence and mission every fifteen minutes on channel 13 and 16 in order to alert mariners.
More waiting.
Doc called: “WILLOW is the Captain there?”
“Doc go ahead.”
“Sir we need to medevac this guy.”
“Can you get him ready to come to WILLOW?”
“Cap, we need to get him heloed off this boat. His ribs are crushed and…” Doc went on with a list of symptoms, all of which made this an extremely injured man. Doc said he wasn’t sure how he was still upright. He didn’t want to give him any pain meds, again for various reasons.
“Doc, we’ll call the Group to get the AIRSTA to get the alert helo up, but with this vis…I don’t know how they are going to find you and hold station long enough to get this guy aboard.”
“Roger that sir but if we don’t do this he isn’t going to make it. Tell the AIRSATA to have a Rescue Swimmer aboard to take care of this guy.” Rescue Swimmers were all EMTs…they didn’t have quite the background of an independent duty corpsman but they were good.
BMC was back on the radio: “Sir, I am going to have BM2 come alongside and give us the stokes…we can get this guy ready for the helo.”
“Sounds good Chief.”
“WILLOW 1 did you copy.”
“Roger that WILLOW. Standing by.”
This case escalated quickly. OPS called the Group and they scrambled an HH-65 Dolphin. Small, fast and maneuverable helicopter.
We gave the on scene weather. Winds calm, visibility less than 50 yards. They had the position and could get close.
Doc kept calling back with updates that we relayed to the Group. Group would keep the flight surgeon notified. I don’t know a lot about medicine but the blood pressure and pulse were dropping—he going into shock…if he wasn’t there already. Doc could keep him warm and monitor but that was about it. WILLOW, according to the radar was less than 750 yards away but couldn’t see them.
“WILLOW, Rescue 6511” it was the helo shifting their comms.
“Rescue 11, WILLOW, assuming your guard at this time.”
“WILLOW the vis at height is pretty good but below 500 feet and its next to zero. Can you give us an updated position?
We did and they plotted a course; using our radar we gave the helo the fishing boats lat and long and had BMC on the radio.
“Rescue 11, WILLOW. We are going to turn you over to the BMC on the deck of the fishing boat with the injured crewman. He can try to talk you in.”
“Roger that WILLOW.”
From then on we listened to the Chief and pilot talk on the radio. The helo made what it thought were approaches but it turns out they were at the wrong boat. Chief could hear them—the 65 had a distinctive noise profile.
It took more than 45 minute…then:
“11, WILLOW Boarding Office, I have visual.”
“Copy that. Send down the hoist.”
Hoisting a person in training is tricky…hosting an injured man in no vis for real was something beyond tricky.
We were close enough to hear the helo the entire time but never had visual on them. It must have stressful on the fishing boat for all concerned. Back on WILLOW it was damning. We got a crew aboard the distressed vessel, vectored an asset to assist but couldn’t see anything. It was a different kind of stress.
Finally…
“WILLOW, Rescue 11. We have an addition soul aboard and are heading directly to Our Lady of Mercy Hospital. Thanks for the help. BZ to your crew on the boat. Chief was key in getting there and your Doc had this guy secured and paperwork well written up with what was going on. Have a safe trip. We are shifting comms back to the AIRSTA.”
“11, WILLOW, Thanks for coming out. Safe flight. Securing your radio guard at minute 23.”
We took a few minutes to get the crew back aboard the small boat and WILLOW 1 back to its cradle. It was a good case. And my last one. If you are going to go out, this was not a bad way to do it.
A couple of weeks later a letter arrived addressed to the Commanding Officer. I needed a distraction, with what was going on, coffee wasn’t going to do it. It was from the fisherman we helped evacuate. He told us the doctor said if he had come to the hospital maybe an hour or two later he would have died. He had a punctured lung and internal bleeding. When he was working on deck a reel of line fell free and hit him in the chest and pinned him to the deck for about 30 minutes. He told us that he owed the crew his life. And it was about the best crew any CO could have ever asked for.
Hell of a last case. Hell of a crew.
