Tales From the Station

I have a hard time finding a place on the Marine Unit since other firefighters live closer to the station than I do. I usually get there to see the boat loaded and someone saying there’s enough firefighters on board. One night we get a call of a boat in distress in the north channel down towards Lake St. Francis. I immediately jumped in my truck and raced down to the station. Low and behold, I got a place on the boat!

It was a rather nice night for late spring until I took another look at the sky. It had turned dark and nasty with the clouds boiling and churning as a front moved in on us. I had seen storms like this before and had been caught in a couple. This storm had a solid squall line forming in front of it and it was coming straight at us.

We had a crusty old assistant Chief that was a bear. If your butt needed kicking it was usually his boot that would be swinging at you. Rookies lived in fear of him and lesser firefighters had a total dislike for his ways. One thing he did have was respect since he got things done and training was his way of life. We got the boat launched and our Assistant Chief walked out to the dock and looked us in the eye and said “You guys be careful out there!” A voice responded “We Will!”

The rest of us silently said “Oh S#%&! We’re going to die!” This was the only time any of us heard him have any concern for our well being whatsoever. This wasn’t good, he knew something we didn’t. We got underway and headed out towards the channel and didn’t go a hundred yards when the squall line hit. Horizontal rain blasted and blinded us to a point our skipper asked “What do you guys want to do?” I was going to say something when someone slammed the hatch on me and said “Keep going, someone’s in trouble out there!” All I could think was “Aren’t we in trouble, too!”

We were navigating by lightning flashes. Lightning would light up the horizon for a split second and our skipper would make corrections. It got bad out there. I was in the back in a survival suit along with another firefighter and we were getting pelted by the rain and thrown around the deck by the waves. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse we get a call on the radio asking how we’re doing. Our skipper answered “We’re fine, we’re about ten minutes away” I could have thrown him overboard, but they had the hatch closed.

We cleared the marshes and headed out into open water and our skipper decided that he could goose up the speed a little. Horrified I realized we were going to get it worse in the back and I could only hunker down and ride it out. The rain and spray soaked us right to the bone, it was a good thing we were wearing survival suits. We got to Lake St. Francis and a passing freighter had radar and vectored us towards the boat. The problem was the freighter kept going and lost contact. At least we were going in the right direction.

Just as quickly as that squall line hit, it passed and everything calmed down on the river. It was eerily silent as we started our search pattern. We called to get more information and dispatch responded “They can see you, but they don’t have any lights. Their cell phone died while they were on the line.” Great, we only have to search twenty square miles of river without a clue as to where they are.

We began zigzagging back and forth only stopping to yell “AHOY”. It’s a mind numbing exercise, but one that works effectively. After about three loops in the pattern we finally got a response. We trained the search lights toward the sound and sure enough, there was a boat with three men in it.

We pulled alongside and when we were just about a yard away a wide eyed young man scrambled off the boat and jumped into the marine unit. We looked at him and before we could say anything he screamed in a very French accent “They’re going to kill me!” We got him and his boatmates calmed down and found out what the commotion was about.

As we ran a tow line we found out what happened. The three men on board were all family from Grandfather to Father to Grandson. They took the boat out for the first run of the season and ended up a local watering hole. What they didn’t know is the boat was running solely on the battery. On the way home the battery died and the boat quit. Not a problem though, they told the grandson to toss the anchor and they would ride it out until help arrived.

The good grandson did what he was told and tossed the new anchor attached to a hundred feet of brand new line into the river. He just forgot to make sure the other end of the line was secured the boat. Which it wasn’t and they watched as all the line played out ending up in the river. What a sinking feeling that must have been as they drifted out into the middle of Lake St. Francis with that black boiling sky coming straight at them.

They did have a cell phone and they dialed 911 only to get a confused dispatcher in Vermont who then transferred them to Plattsburgh, who then transferred them to Franklin County who toned us out about an hour later. Their thick French accents probably did not help their situation whatsoever. When the storm hit all they had was a cell phone with dying batteries from explaining their situation for the past hour.

The Grandfather and Father stayed with their boat as we towed them to the marina. They were quite upset and kept eyeballing the poor young man riding with us. I can almost picture the conversation on the boat going like this “If we survive this we’re going to kill you!” We got to the marina and as we were maneuvering the boat into position the young man bounded out the marine unit and hit the dock running. We never saw him again and still don’t know his final disposition. I do know he probably didn’t go for a boat ride with Dad and Grandpa anytime soon after that.