journey eastward across the cold North

By Martha LaGuardia-Kotite
Rescue Swimmer, Senior Chief Jeff Tunks,
recently retired in Mobile, Alabama. As the most
decorated rescue swimmer in the history of the
U.S. Coast Guard, he hoisted nearly 90 survivors during Hurricane Katrina and was instrumental in developing new techniques and
equipment for saving women, children and men
from the tragic circumstances the disaster left
behind. His story (many swimmers call legendary), is one of many highlighted in
So Others May Live, a collection of incredible
Coast Guard aviation rescues. FrontLine SAR
brings you a special excerpt from the book’s
author, Martha LaGuardia-Kotite.
n December 10, 1987, Second Class
Aviation Survivalman Jeff Tunks grabbed swim fins, anti-exposure coveralls,
extra survival bags, and joined the aircrew
aboard the U.S. Coast Guard HH 3F Pelican
helicopter. Together they would answer a
call for help from Jim Blades and his sixyear-old son, Clint, aboard a 26-foot
wooden trawler, Bluebird, which was
sinking near Sitka, Alaska.
The rescue swimmer program was in
its infancy at that time, only a couple of
years old. Swimmers were told to sit in the
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back of the helicopter and were not recognized as necessary or believed in as people
who could make a difference.
Tunks readied for what would become
– for him and the Coast Guard – an evening
of historic renown. For a brief moment he
looked up at the moonless sky, blanketed
by thick cloud cover and questioned his
first rescue mission, “Is this for real?”
Tunks was confident in the team of
pilots and aircrew that would be on the
mission. What he feared was his own
failure. “It’s not easy to be brave all the time,”
he says. “Your first instinct is to survive.”
The weather system that had ambushed
Blades and his son in the darkness, packed
hurricane-force winds, a blizzard-like
snowfall, and 40 foot swells from its
journey eastward across the cold North
Pacific Ocean and into the Gulf of Alaska.
Seeking shelter from the “storm of
unforecast ferocity,” Jim started Bluebird’s
engine and set it on a course for deeper
water. He was lost. Without radar, the best
he could do was direct the beam from his
spotlight into the snow-packed watery
darkness encircling them. A large wave
lifted the entire boat and dropped it. The
bilge alarm sounded within minutes
announcing they were taking on water.
Lieutenant Commander John Whiddon,
a distinguished pilot, launched immediately.
His experienced co-pilot, Lieutenant Brei
Breithaupt, and AD1 Carl Saylor, a seasoned
flight mechanic joined him. AT3 Mark
Milne, the avionics technician, would plot
their course and maintain communication
with the air station.
Whiddon buckled into the pilot’s right
seat of the 10-ton aircraft. “As we were just
turning the helo up, a really strong gust of
wind knocked it sideways, 30° to the right.
The first time that had happened in my
career – it was our first indication that there
were going to be problems, it proceeded to
get worse from there,” remembers Whiddon.
The storm intensified while they were
airborne, the windows obscured by snow
build-up, and ice accumulating on the airframe, necessitating a lower than desired
search altitude to avoid further icing.
Finding Bluebird was a complicated
matter to say the least. Ramping up the fear
factor a notch, the pilots had to carefully
guide the nose of the aircraft down to prevent it from getting pushed up too high by
the powerful winds trying to force it into
dangerous, out of control, aerial acrobatics.
Once they found the vessel, there were
other challenges. During attempts to get
the basket close to the survivors, the winds
forced the helicopter backward into a
descent. All the instruments went red. “I
felt the helicopter rise and start to shudder,”
said Tunks. “You could hear the pilots yell,
“Full power! Full power! Full power!” They
were descending completely out of control
at 60 miles per hour. They knew they were
going to crash, but with the helicopter’s tail
just a few feet from the water, the descent
stopped. The pilots pulled power again and
regained control. Miraculously they were
still airborne. The pilots nearly lost control
three additional times.
After four attempts to lower the rescue
basket, the rescuers realized that the limited deck space on the small boat would
Three of the men involved in that fateful
mission in 1987 join author Martha
LaGuardia-Kotite for a photo at Jeff’s
retirement ceremony. From left to right:
Commander John Whiddon (retired
USCG pilot), Senior Chief Jeff Tunks
(USCG ret), and Carl Saylor (flight
mechanic USCG ret).
PHOTO: SGT 1ST CLASS DOUG SAMPLE, USA
not enable the father and son to be safely
hoisted. The wildly pitching hull, the boat’s
rigging, and the gear on deck created dangerous interference. The Blades were convinced to get into the water; it was the only
way they could be saved.
Jim and his son were too incapacitated
by the cold water and conditions to help
themselves. In an unprecedented moment,
Whiddon turned to Jeff Tunks for help.
“The only way we will be able to rescue
these guys is if you go in the water. Are you
willing to do it?”
“Yes sir. OK, let’s do it,” Tunks responded
without hesitation. “This is insane,” he
thought, but he knew he had to do what
he could, even if he was uncertain of the
outcome – he hoped it would be good.
The moment Tunks’ feet hit the water
while he was hoisted down, the aircraft
was forced backwards again, dragging
Tunks the length of a football field attached
to the helicopter. He detached from the
sling and was separated from the Blades by
three pool lengths, and on the other side of
40-foot waves, in the dark.
Guided by the helicopter’s spotlight
illumination of the reflective tape on Jim’s
survival suit, Tunks swam up to Jim and his
son. Father and son did not realize Tunks
was in the water until he was right next to
them. Clint, the son, recalls… “Dad asked,
‘Are you going to get us out of here?’”
Despite the fact that this was his first
rescue, Tunks replied: “We do this sh–t all
the time!” He then looked at Clint and
shouted, “we’ve got to get you out of here!”
Coast Guard Chief Petty Officer Thor Wentz watches a group of candidates in swim training at
the Rescue Swimmer School at Coast Guard Air Station Elizabeth City, North Carolina. Becoming
a rescue swimmer is extremely difficult, says Wentz, less than half of those who try will make it.
With fierce determination matched by
his pumping adrenaline, Tunks worked to
save them. “You could hear the strain on
the helo’s engines as the plane was buffeted
around by the winds,” he remembers. After
10 minutes of precision effort, five attempts
by the team of rescuers, Whiddon started
to give up. He suggested that the Blades
and Tunks could ride out the gale inside the
life raft they brought.
Breithaupt, Milne and Saylor were
silent to the open question. “All right, we’ll
give it one more try,” Whiddon, remarked.
It was by no means easy, but they were
able to recover the two Blades.
Recovering Tunks was even more difficult. He was able to get into
the basket, but suddenly, the
helicopter was lifted by the
winds, shuddered and propelled back, at speeds in
excess of 50 mph – while the
pilots countered with full
power on the controls.
Tunks gripped the sides of
the steel basket as it surged
with the helicopter. “I was hit
with a freight-train – a really
hard wave.” The wall of
water knocked the air out
of his lungs, he was stunned.
Now 50 feet in front of the
helicopter, he saw it veer out
of control and descent toward
the water. Tunks impacted the
waves ahead of it, hit by a
30-foot wave. The pilots and
crew noticed explosions of
white water as the waves collided against
Tunks. Whiddon heard yelling from the
back of the cabin, “we’ve killed him, we’ve
killed him!”
As the gusted subsided, Whiddon
regained control of the helicopter. He wrote
in his after action report, “Only by Herculean efforts were Milne and Saylor able
to hoist and recover Tunks.”
The helicopter was out of service for
seven days due to overtorqued transmission, overstressed hoist and wrinkles on the
skin of the pylon.
Each of the men were awarded the
Distinguished Flying Cross for their
heroics. This was the first time it was everawarded to a Coast Guard rescue swimmer.
The mission proved that rescue swimmers could make a big difference.
Clint Blades is married and recently had
a baby. “I believe everything I do in my life
has meaning. I remember it pretty vividly –
I get a lump in my throat,” he confesses.
Many non-believers became believers
that day. Over the last two decades, the
rescue swimmer program has become
known as the “best of the best.” During the
first two weeks after Hurricane Katrina,
Coast Guard aviation teams rescued over
7,000 people – for many, a career’s worth of
rescues in just one extraordinary day.
SAR
Sempar Paratus! ❏
A Commander in the U.S. Coast Guard
reserves, Martha LaGuardia-Kotite
is currently assigned as an Emergency
Preparedness Liaison for Region 2.
Fall 2007
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