Page 4 of Let's Go To Camp!

“We don’t normally see this kind of storm during the summer,” he noted.

There was no reason to yell since the mic he wore patched him through to the three fellow members of the U.S. Coast Guard who were aboard that aircraft. So, he spoke in an even tone that relayed the sense of inner calm he felt.

He probably shouldn’t have been so calm, he noted silently. He was flying right into the storm, after all. More than that, he was strapped to a rig that was about to lower him into that swirling ocean. But he’d done this so many times he’d lost track of the number. It wasn’t that he was arrogant or didn’t account for the dangers. It was that experience had taught him thatremaining calm was the best thing he could do for those he was rescuing. And for himself.

Losing his head wouldn’t help anyone.

So, he focused on his breathing, relied on his training and experience, and waited until the moment was right.

“I’ve seen a few summer ones like this,” the co-pilot replied. “But it’s been a while.”

While California didn’t really see any hurricanes, they had their share of storms off the coast. Winter was the active season, however, but every now and then a freak one decided to boil over in the warmer months. Like now.

“There he is!” Petty Officer Third Class Marcie Bowman cried, pointing toward a shape in the tumultuous sea.

Declan squinted and, sure enough, he saw the small form of a man being tossed around helplessly by the churning waves.

“Good eye. Let’s get ready,” Declan said.

They waited until the chopper got into the right spot and then descended a bit. As the bird hovered over the desperate man, Declan read the “go signal” from Petty Officer Bowman and then stepped out.

The fall was always thrilling.

It was a measured plummet, but he was still zooming toward a stormy sea. His stomach flipped an excited somersault, but his emotions regulated the moment he arrived at the water’s surface.

“Thank…God!” the scared, stranded man yelled.

Now that Declan had a good look at him, he could see it was a young guy, probably no older than twenty-one.

“It’s going to be okay,” Declan yelled, trying to be heard over the roar of the rising and falling waves, along with the overhead chopper. “Do exactly as I say. You’re going to be fine!”

The man opened his mouth to speak but just then was swept beneath the water.

“I got you! I got you!” Declan cried.

His line gave some slack and he was able to go deeper, actually into the water now instead of suspended above it. He caught the guy and then said into his mic, “Bring us up a little.”

The line went taut and they came up quickly from the water.

“I’m going to put this on you,” he said, grabbing an extra harness that was clipped to his own vest. “When I say go, you just hold on.”

The man tried to nod but coughed and sputtered instead. He spit out some salty water. A moment later, he said, “I…don’t…wanna die.”

Declan smiled reassuringly. “No one’s going to die today. What’s your name?”

He worked as he spoke, moving efficiently to prep the evacuee.

“Andrew.”

“You out surfing, Andrew?”

“Yeah.”

“Waves good?”

Even with the blowing rain, crashing waves, and howling winds, Andrew managed a smile. “They were awesome. Until…t-this.”

“Well, guess what, Andrew. You’re safe now. Enjoy the ride.” Speaking into his mic again, Declan called, “Bring us up.”

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