Photo: Coast Guard Air Station Cape Cod Instagram
Shortly after Captain Amaru submitted this story, a helicopter was dispatched to rescue two fishermen who abandoned their burning boat southwest of Nantucket. They were later rescued by a fishing vessel.
By Bill Amaru
The town of Orleans lies directly below the flight path of the U. S. Coast Guard Helicopters leaving Air Station Cape Cod and heading out to the fishing grounds east of the Cape. They fly to aid distressed mariners in need of life saving assistance when other assets are not practicable.
My wife Joanne is especially sensitive to the sound of the helos as they fly virtually directly over our home. She has this sensitivity because my son and I have been the object of those flying life savers.
We were out for a two-day trip 20 miles east of Chatham when we smelled smoke; fire creates one of the deadliest and most difficult situations while at sea. Upon lifting the hatch, we saw an orange glow and smoke coming from below. We activated the fire suppression system in the engine room and immediately called in our position to the Coast Guard. These were my exact words when I heard them respond:
“We have smoke of unknown origin coming from the engine room.”
I then gave my position and distance from shore. The fact we had a fire triggered a response from Chatham Coast Guard and a high-speed rescue vessel was on its way. It also started the process to send out the JayHawk helicopter.
About 15 minutes later the fire was extinguished and the helicopter was hovering overhead. We were towed in and the helicopter returned to Otis Air Station. We were very fortunate. No one was hurt and needed to be airlifted.
When a “mayday” call is made on VHF (very high frequency) radio from a vessel at sea, it triggers a series of events. First, the level of danger to those involved is assessed by Coast Guard personnel. If imminent loss of life is perceived and no shore facilities such as high-speed rescue craft are likely to arrive soon, the flight crews that stand-by 24/7 are activated and a flight plan to the location is created. This all must happen in minutes.
Here in Orleans, we first hear the Sikorsky MH 60-T JayHawk before we see it over the horizon. The thumping of the blades and screaming of two jet turbines drive the skyhawk forward at 120 to 140 knots, a signal to those who go to sea that one of our brother or sister mariners may be in trouble.
The edge of the Atlantic is one of the busiest ocean highways in our nation, not obvious from land where we see a relatively few miles offshore. But out of sight over the horizon is a world teeming with transport, fishing, and summer cruising vessels of many shapes and sizes. Vessels fishing are most often in need of assistance. From injury operating fishing equipment like winches and hauling machines to heart attacks and other ailments, death at sea—while rare—always awaits.
Catastrophic failures such as rapid sinking are the bane of all who go to sea. Anyone who has been on Cape for the past year or so has witnessed the awful tragedy of loss at sea. While CG helo teams were involved in nearly all of them, only one survivor made it safely to shore. He was airlifted after over an hour in the water.
This grim fact does not lessen the value and importance of their effort. All aircraft used by Coast Guard, Air National Guard and State Police units to save lives are absolutely vital. As the citizens they serve should know, we are fortunate to have them. From radio operators who take the calls to rescue swimmers who drop into the water wherever they are needed, we must remain aware of and support their missions.
Cape Cod may be changing in many ways we would prefer it didn’t, but the mission of the USCG continues to be to save lives and protect property at sea. So next time you hear a low flying, thumping helicopter go screaming to the east, listen. Look up and you may see the flaming red and blue ensign on a white fuselage. A crew of US Coast Guard life savers is on another lifesaving mission.
Say a prayer for their safety and success.
Bill Amaru writes of the sea and the people who are called to it from his fishing shanty in Orleans