The Unwanted Call

Noriega, Aaron

ENG 101, Weds. 6pm

The Unwanted Call

            It was 2009 when I deployed on the USS Bonhomme Richard. On board there were about 3,000 Navy and Marine personnel to support the ship. Our mission that year was to help the Somalia Government with the piracy going on off the coast. Piracy is very big in Africa. African pirates would board a ship or vessel to steal everything on board or hold the ship for ransom. You might remember some events that happened a few years back when; Navy Seals had saved ships off the coast of Somalia.

            My unit was the only Navy aviation crew on board. We had two H-60 (Blackhawks) helicopters to maintain and do missions with the other Marine Aviation Units. The Marines had an arsenal of combat Cobras, Hueys, H-46 attack helicopters, and Harrier fighter jets.  We were on board to support flight operations especially when the Harriers were flying. We would fly around the ship waiting for anything to happen. I would be dressed out in full swimmer gear for immediate water entry. My job was to wait to get a call that no other aviator would want to hear, “Bird down, bird down” or “Man over board, man over board”.

            Nights after flight operations were complete and all aircrafts were safely on board and shut down; maintenance crew and flight deck operators would still roam a dark, rocky, and steel metal flight deck surrounded by hundreds of miles of dark open ocean. Minimal light was allowed on the flight deck, so that enemies wouldn’t be able to sneak and attack us by suicide bombing. All you would see around us on the flight deck were little tiny green or red flashlights that would help you do maintenance or work. On clear nights the moon and the stars would light the metal deck and reflect also off the warm blue water to help you see. Picture a metal-floored football field filled with jets, helicopters, cranes, and tow carts to move aircrafts around in pitch darkness; it’s a mess of obstacles of dangerous machinery!  One wrong move and you could trip off the edge of the flight deck and fall over board into the dark water with no land in sight. Hoping someone had seen you fall over; with a bright strobe light attached to your life vest you would activate it in hope of a watchman would see it going off. I couldn’t imagine what that person would be going through after falling 55 feet into the open ocean with water snakes and jellyfishes surrounding you.

            While at sea we had 24 hour watches on different points of the ship for security reasons, or in this case if somebody fell over board. About four months into the deployment I started to notice people were getting complacent and comfortable because of the same routine over and over. Guys were forgetting the simple stuff; leaving rags where they weren’t supposed to, finding tools in the engine and hydraulic bays waiting to cause an accident. People were getting so comfortable I would sometimes catch guys without a safety water vest on. And as a rescue swimmer it was my duty to make sure everybody was safe from anything that had to do with water dangers.  

            One hot evening in the middle of the Persian Gulf we were wrapping up our flight operations for the night. It seemed like an average normal night. Maintenance personnel were walking the flight deck as usual doing the same thing they’ve been doing for the past four months; changing oil filters and adding fuel to aircrafts. Until suddenly, a loud echoing voice goes over the intercoms of ship “Man overboard, man overboard right side!”  As soon as I heard the call go over the intercom my butt rushed from where I was at the time and got to our squadron helicopter.

            Fully dressed out in my swimmer gear, my crew and I brief the situation while starting the helicopter at the same time. All we knew at the time was that a watchman saw something fall over board that reassembled a person. We fired up the helicopter and took flight. 15 minutes had gone by searching the ships water trail. We saw only choppy waves and night fishes in the distant waters.

            When all of a sudden I noticed a bright yellow glow stick followed by a bright flashing white strobe light. I said “Survivor right side 200 yards.” The pilots quickly turned into the direction I called out and turned on his searchlight. The pilot responded with an eager voice “Roger, survivor in sight 12’ o clock, 100 yards.” My crewchief opens the side door and gets me ready to jump in the water. He looked me over to make sure I was good to go and ready to jump.

            The only thing racing through my mind before entering the water was the song by ACDC, “Thunderstruck”. I was so, amped and ready to go; I didn’t know what to expect. With my heart pounding through my chest and my palms sweating from adrenaline, all I could focus on was what was going on 15 feet below me and with my swimmer fins just hanging out the door. Searching and looking before I made my jump, I took a quick sweep to see what the survivor was doing. Trying to see through the choppy water and salt spray blowing around from helicopter hovering over the water. With me still at the door I was trying do a quick assessment of my surroundings. The survivor was conscious; waving and flailing his arms like a mad man. Trying to yell something over the helicopter noise and water splashes I couldn’t understand him. I knew it was clear to go, my crewchief gave me the final signal.

            I jumped into the warm, blue, and muggy water swimming as fast as I possibly could to the survivor. As soon as I got to the frighten guy in blue, my body turned into an automatic tuned trained robot. My special training that I learned quickly turned on and I did my quick checks and signaled to the chopper for pick up. Filled with adrenaline I knew I did it, the wire dropped and hit the water; I quickly hooked up and gave a big thumb up to bring us up.

            A few feet from the side door my crewchief grabbed the wire and swung us inside the helicopter and slammed the door shut. That’s when I knew it was all over. We did everything by the book just like we practiced and practiced over and over it was picture perfect.

            We quickly flew back to the ship and landed feeling proud of the job we knew that saved a life of a fellow sailor. In a quick minute while we were landing on deck. John the survivor, had softly said, “Thank you, whoever you are, thank you.” I responded with my chest up high, “It’s my job!”

            When we landed we were greeted by what looked to be like the entire ships crew. Clapping and shouts of chants of “Yeahs!” and “Woo Hoos!” Nothing made me feel so proud of myself.

            The following morning an award ceremony was held for our helicopter crew for a job well done. I was awarded the Navy and Marine Corp Achievement Medal and the Navy Flying Cross. The award that I am most proud of was the Navy Flying Medal, the Navy’s 8^th highest decoration. I can’t began to tell you how many times eyes would always have to take a second glance to actually see that medal on my chest. It’s a very high honor and very rare award to receive while serving in the Armed Services. Till this day I’ll never forget that day that I got that unwanted call.