Permafrost. M. Schwartz
the oil off her face, then grabbed her hand and lead her inside the cabin with the girls. The mother hugged her daughters more tightly than she probably ever had previously.
Baron engaged the engines with his nimble and trained hands and came up to the sinking boat once more now that the mother was out of danger and Kens was back aboard. Touching the hull of the boat lightly, John jumped without hesitation and landed hard in the small section available for him. His target was about two feet-wide-by-two-feet, and he came down dead center in a perfect fall. Finally, Rod was back aboard, and Baron backed up from the boat. Once they were clear of the vessel, Baron turned it around, conducted a head count, and headed back toward the station.
Once Baron was clear of the wreck and confirmed all were aboard, he keyed up the mic, “Station Frankfort, Station Frankfort, this is Coast Guard Rescue 255022, we are zero-eight POB, all four rescued and safely aboard. We are RTB. ETA back to station one hour. Have EMS on standby for the treatment of shock, hypothermia, and possible ingestion of gasoline and oil.” Anyone with a radio would be listening to the situation and knew that they just saved a whole family. He thought he could hear cheers over the water, but he shrugged it off as just his imagination. Baron marked the coordinates for the maritime safety units so they could come out and clean up the spilled oil and gas, then hopefully recover the boat and stop it from polluting the waters any further.
“Zero-two-two, Roger, good copy. See you soon, good job. Station out.”
3
Results
The mother and daughters were huddled tightly with a warm wool blanket wrapped around their shoulders as the rescue boat came into Frankfort Harbor. With practiced fingers, Baron moored the boat to the station’s dock, which was on the left side of the channel, just before coming into Betsie Lake proper. There were two ambulance crews, a host of firefighters, and police on the dock waiting for them to help the rescued family off the boat and take them to the hospital. Once the boat was raised completely on the boat lift, the paramedics slowly eased them off the boat and began checking the family’s vital signs with their fingers and stethoscopes. After the family had been cleared of immediate danger by the medical crews, they were carried away by the ambulances leaving the Coast Guard rescue crew by themselves. The boat crew stepped off their boat and was surprised to see they were welcomed back by a wave of firm handshakes and heavy backslaps.
“Good work out there, Boats,” Sheriff Neelan said. “Saved a whole family.”
“C’mon, sheriff, wasn’t that big of a deal. We were close to them anyways, and besides, it’s our job. Shouldn’t be thanked for just doing our job,” Baron replied.
“Nonsense, son, you did a great thing! Own up to it.” He retorted with a wide smile. Baron looked over the shoulder of the sheriff and saw a news van sitting just outside the station’s property. Although it was the coast guard, they still were a branch of the military, and this still was a military installation, even if it didn’t look like it.
“Tell you what, Sherriff, I’ll own up to it, if you get them out of here,” Baron said, lifting his head and nodding to the news crew.
“No problem, Boats. Good job again.” Baron shook his hand, and the small-town sheriff took off to deal with the small-town press.
“Okay, everyone, inside for the after-action report, let’s go. Oh, and great work out there, y’all. Though Kens, you need to work on your freestyle stroke, didn’t see you take many breaths,” Baron said jokingly. He needed something to break the post-action tension and let the nerves and adrenaline wear off. Sometimes it could take minutes, sometimes hours before the shaking stopped and you quit feeling jittery. Kens, still soaking wet since she gave the blanket and towel to the mother, didn’t look amused, but she did appreciate the attempt at humor.
“Easy for you to say, Baron, you’re dry,” she replied sharply.
“You could be too if you ever got around to qualifying coxswain,” he replied with a smile. “Now c’mon, I am eager to know what Chief thinks we messed up on.”
With that, the crew walked almost shoulder to shoulder the fifty yards to the station and stepped inside. They made a quick left into the communication and radio room and looked around at the watch stander’s desk where there were notes and scribbles all over the nautical chart regarding the case. Papers with various notes had been sprawled chaotically that depicted the behind-the-scene action of a rescue. The station’s officer in charge, or OIC, was standing there to welcome them home.
“Welcome back, crew, solid rescue.” Was all the gruff and salty chief said. Chief Maynes had been in the coast guard some twenty years, and the majority of them were out to sea. They gave him this command since he was from the area and it would be his last. What people in the coast guard normally called a “twilight tour” as it would be the last one of your military career. Usually, it was somewhere nice and low stress. It was an unspoken “Thank you for your twenty plus years of service” type of thing. He was what others would call “an old salt.” He had seen and been a part of many rescues, drug interdictions, migrant action, and more. Him saying “solid rescue” was about as good as any compliment they would get from the man.
“Thanks, Chief,” Baron replied. He glanced past their OIC and noticed his office was closed. Strange, Baron thought, he had a solid, open-door policy, and his office was always open since the day he got there.
“Kens, go get a shower and warm up. Withers and Rod, get to writing your after-action report from your perspective, and I need those AARs as soon as you can get them. Baron, in my office please,” Chief Maynes said in a solid voice. A chirp of “Aye!” filled the station, and everyone went back to business like the rescue hadn’t even taken place. Just another day for these sailors that would probably be forgotten soon, but for the family, they would remember it clearly for the rest of their lives. Baron followed his chief into his office. As he walked inside, he saw a Navy officer sitting in dress blues on the chief’s old and faded worn-out blue-cloth couch. Tired from the rescue, Baron didn’t follow proper protocol of snapping to attention but instead nodded his head and just said, “Sir.” The Navy officer stood up and shook his head, nodding back.
“Sit, Baron,” Chief Maynes said in a friendly voice.
“Aye, Chief,” Baron snapped in reply, sitting next to the officer in a pristine uniform. Through his military training at boot camp located in Cape May, New Jersey, he knew this man was a lieutenant commander or otherwise known as an oh-four, for being the fourth officer rank. His uniform was littered with chest candy, the colloquial term for ribbons, indicating he has had a busy service record. Wonder what he did to earn all that candy? Baron thought to himself, making a note of all his decorations. His uniform was perfect, and his hair was cut short. There were a few scars on his face, and his right ear was mangled. If anyone had looked like a warrior, it was this man. Though, through the scars and mangled ear, he still had confidence and a general handsome look to him. Baron decided he liked this officer; he got out behind the desk and did the work. He had a gold pin above his ribbons, but the uniform’s lapel covered it, and Baron couldn’t make it out. He thought he could see a trident, though.
“BM3, this is Lieutenant Commander Stermer of the Navy Special Operations Command,” Chief Maynes said in his normal, matter-of-fact voice. “He is here to speak with you about your package you put in.”
Although the Navy SEALs were indeed the Navy’s special operations combat unit, members of the coast guard could apply and try out. If accepted, they could be a Navy SEAL, wear their uniform, be in their command. However, the nametag next to the last name of the uniform would still say “US Coast Guard.” Baron had been an excellent swimmer in high school and college. He had competed regularly before his life had taken a sad turn. He scored expert on the pistol and long-gun training, was first in his class at the coast guard’s law enforcement school when we went to get his Boarding Officer qualification and excelled at hand to hand combat techniques. Baron not only wanted to save lives, but also he wanted to make a difference as much as he could in this life before passing to the next. So trying to be the best at that had become his default mind-set.