Thanksgiving is special for me in many ways, but one thing has haunted me for 20 years. On Thanksgiving Day, 1992, I had the ready crew duty at the CG Air Facility in Newport, OR. The day was almost over and we were getting ready to fly back to North Bend for turkey with our families…then the phone rang. There had been a house fire, and we were told a 17 month old girl and her father, a police officer, needed to be flown to the hospital. The regular medical airplane was down for maintenance. Could we take them? Hell yeah! There was a storm coming, so this was going be interesting. When the doors of that ambulance opened, I swear that I could only see my own daughter’s face, she was about the same age. This little girl was not in good shape. Burns and a collapsed lung. It didn’t look real good.
Off we went into the darkness, all thoughts of our own families now pushed into the back corner of our minds. We took a medic with us. The whole way there I squeezed that
bag for her so she could breathe. We landed on the roof of the hospital and off they went for the care they needed. We refueled and got the snot beat out of us on the way home. There wasn’t much conversation. It affected us all. The weather was so bad by the time we got to Newport we decided it was safer to land there and drive back to North Bend in the car they kept there. When I finally walked in the door of my house after 1 AM, my kids were camping out on the sleeper sofa…waiting for dad to come home. I lost it. I crawled in between them and had a meltdown.
We got word a couple days later that the little girl was going to make it. I was elated. Her father wrote a nice letter to the CO of the air station, and I remember these words so well: “They gave up spending Thanksgiving with their families to save ours.” Wow. All these years since, every Thanksgiving Day, I say a little “Thank You” and wonder what became of her. I wondered what she looked like. Well, today I gave it a shot. I located her on Facebook. She’s alive and well and beautiful. I had a little breakdown when I saw her photo. I sent her a message and told her about that day, and that I’m happy she’s ok. Thanksgiving just got better. Remember, no matter how bad your day is, someone else is having one that’s worse.
Rick
Off we went into the darkness, all thoughts of our own families now pushed into the back corner of our minds. We took a medic with us. The whole way there I squeezed that
bag for her so she could breathe. We landed on the roof of the hospital and off they went for the care they needed. We refueled and got the snot beat out of us on the way home. There wasn’t much conversation. It affected us all. The weather was so bad by the time we got to Newport we decided it was safer to land there and drive back to North Bend in the car they kept there. When I finally walked in the door of my house after 1 AM, my kids were camping out on the sleeper sofa…waiting for dad to come home. I lost it. I crawled in between them and had a meltdown.
We got word a couple days later that the little girl was going to make it. I was elated. Her father wrote a nice letter to the CO of the air station, and I remember these words so well: “They gave up spending Thanksgiving with their families to save ours.” Wow. All these years since, every Thanksgiving Day, I say a little “Thank You” and wonder what became of her. I wondered what she looked like. Well, today I gave it a shot. I located her on Facebook. She’s alive and well and beautiful. I had a little breakdown when I saw her photo. I sent her a message and told her about that day, and that I’m happy she’s ok. Thanksgiving just got better. Remember, no matter how bad your day is, someone else is having one that’s worse.
Rick