So did a wider public, as the Johnny Aldridge story briefly dominated the news cycle in the nation’s biggest media market. Even to those close to the story, what the Coast Guard did was a revelation. Anthony Sosinski marvels that the US government, which everyone complains about and some people he knows consistently rail against, in effect dropped everything, turned on a dime, and in its manifestation as the least-known arm of the military, the US Coast Guard, deployed an astounding array of resources and the most skilled operatives in the search-and-rescue field, as Sosinski puts it, “to find and save one guy!” No one has been heard to protest that the rescue of Johnny Aldridge was an excessive expenditure of taxpayer money. On the contrary: whether or not you know Johnny Aldridge, it was money well spent.*
Yet there is a conundrum at the heart of the John Aldridge SAR that won’t quite go away. It’s the slight mismatch between the most advanced search-and-rescue capabilities in the world and the unmeasurable and unpredictable will to survive of a human being who is the object of a search.
The analytical capabilities of SAROPS to compute the probable location of a lost object—in this case, John Aldridge—are unquestionably extraordinary. The picture created on the SAROPS monitor by a weighted set of particles continually modifies itself, pretty much in real time, adjusting for changes in current, winds, and leeway divergence, which shift constantly on the ocean. It shows search planners, more powerfully than the numbers constantly being input to form the picture could tell them, where the search object is most likely to be and what is happening in that likely location. The system also accounts for the type of “object” being searched—whether a person or something inanimate like a raft—and for the fact that not only is the search object moving but so are the aircraft and vessels searching for the object. SAROPS embraces all that and more, and if and when its target location proves unsuccessful, it folds the failure back into its calculations as it computes a new search location.
But underlying all this very powerful analysis and calculation is the assumption that the search object is drifting—almost certainly true in the case of a raft and profoundly likely in the case of living persons, with or without a flotation device. Typically SAROPS will assign the first search-and-rescue unit to start with the mean drift—to take an average—and it will update and correct from there, continually eliminating search overlap as it moves from average to specific, to more specific, to highly specific. The SAROPS search patterns in the Aldridge SAR did just that. In effect, they started out by just splitting the difference, for at the very beginning of the search all they had to go on was that Johnny was not on the boat, was last seen at nine o’clock the previous night, and was not wearing his flotation device. No one knew when, where, how, or why he had gone overboard nor whether they were looking for a live person or a corpse. As Anthony and the SAROPS planners were able to zero in on the more likely time and place of Johnny’s mishap, the system responded, and the search was adjusted—until SAROPS crashed. But the fact is that the underlying assumption was always that Aldridge would be drifting, that if alive, he would let himself drift or would be powerless to do anything else; if dead, his body would float along the trajectory of drift. In a sense that assumption is the obvious default position, the only one to which the hard data the planners began to receive could add value and bring understanding. Any other default assumption can only lead to guesswork.
Johnny Aldridge, we now know, did not just drift. He sometimes defied and sometimes made use of the drift trajectory that SAROPS was so brilliantly charting. One result was that the early search patterns rolling off the computer program therefore sent USCG assets farther to the west than Johnny’s actual location. Johnny knew it, but the Coasties and the civilian volunteer crews with their eyes trained on the ocean for hours on end could not know it.
Make no mistake: Johnny Aldridge was found within the boundaries of the search area SAROPS came up with—he was “in our particles,” as one Coastie put it. And as has been noted before in this book, there is no algorithm that can dimension the human will to live, probe the human brain, or divine human intention.
From the moment he filled his boots with air and stopped panicking—“panic is the killer,” as Mark Averill has said—John Aldridge was master of his own actions. The strength of his mind is what kept him alive—the ability to put aside the fear and despair that kept rising up in his brain, the ability to deny whatever did not advance survival—and it is what defines him. He used his brain to control his emotions and to analyze, assess, and choose what he would do next. His choice was to make himself as visible as he could. The Coast Guard, with its enormous technological capabilities and array of assets, could not possibly read his mind or discern that choice. What it could do was use the data it gathered, narrow the search, and keep looking. Rescue came when the two sets of mastery, Aldridge’s and the Coast Guard’s, met.
That’s why Sean Davis, the US Coast Guard’s operations specialist and the “voice” of the Johnny Aldridge search-and-rescue effort, gets the last word: “We were determined that we would not quit till we found him,” Davis has said, “and he kept himself alive long enough for us to do so.”
The Anna Mary in her slip at the Town Dock, Montauk. Note the open stern.
Johnny Aldridge in the Vermont woods, late autumn, 1990.
Anthony Sosinski, Sheepshead Bay, Islip, New York, eight years old, same size as the fish.
Johnny with a just-caught lobster.
Anthony and Johnny aboard the Anna Mary, preparing for a trip out, this time with a gate on the stern.
Pete Spong’s deckhand examining the knot Johnny tied and the two polyballs he tied together when he finally came to rest.
Mike Migliaccio, preparing to crew for a trip on the Anna Mary.
Johnny being lifted into the MH-60, hanging on for dear life.
Courtesy of Coast Guard rescue mission fisherman PO1 Robert Simpson
USCG rescue swimmer Bob Hovey and the man he rescued aboard the MH-60, July 24, 2013.
Courtesy of AST3 Robert Hovey
Cathy’s broadcast text, transmitted from the Coast Guard’s Station Montauk, when she knew her brother was alive…
Anthony getting ready to fillet the tuna caught on the way home, July 24, 2013. Courtesy Sheila Rooney
Home. Johnny and his nephew, Jake Patterson, in front of the Aldridge house in Oakdale, answering questions from the press.
Courtesy of Kevin Quinn
Johnny, his sister, Cathy Patterson, and brother, Anthony Aldridge, at the Blessing of the Fleet.
From left to right, Anthony and his daughters Emma and Melanie.
Anthony pulls up a highflyer to find Johnny’s tag: “Load Lives.”
Montauk’s own George Watson, proprietor of the legendary watering-hole and restaurant, The Dock.
George Watson’s message on the chalk board at The Dock, his way of announcing that Johnny had made it.
The message that was flown above the Oakdale barge party to celebrate Johnny’s rescue.
The first occurrence of the annual Blessing of the Fleet the year after Johnny’s rescue.
Johnny Aldridge, suitably attired, at the Oakdale barge party celebrating his rescue.
Johnny’s first fishing trip after his rescue, back aboard the Anna Mary, with a benign ocean, beautiful sunset, and lobsters for company.
Appendix A
Assets Deployed to Find and Rescue John Aldridge
The SAR case was initiated at 6:22 a.m., EST, the morning of July 24, 2013, when the distress call was received from the fishing vessel Anna Mary. The first search asset, Montauk Station’s forty-seven-foot motor lifeboat, had launched by 6:54 a.m., and the search by all assets was ended at 3:05 p.m. when the Coast Guard’s MH-6002 helicopter reported that Aldridge was aboard the aircraft, alive and well. The eight-and-a-half-hour search covered an area of 660 square miles before Aldridge was spotted by the MH-6002 some 43 miles south of Montauk, New York. The following assets were deployed to
participate in the search and successful rescue:
US COAST GUARD ASSETS
From Station New Haven
Central command center of Coast Guard operations for Long Island Sound—known as Sector Long Island Sound—including the south shore of Long Island and along coastal Connecticut. Station is located on the eastern side of New Haven Harbor. Nine other field subunits, strategically located throughout the Sound, work for this office. This includes approximately five hundred active duty, two hundred reservists, and twelve hundred volunteer CG auxiliary members.
From Station Montauk
CG-47279, forty-seven-foot motor lifeboat (MLB), designed to perform heavy weather rescue in hurricane force winds and twenty-foot breaking seas. This all-aluminum marine innovation withstands impacts of three times the acceleration of gravity and can even survive a complete roll-over, self-righting in less than ten seconds with all machinery remaining fully operational.
Length: 47 feet
Beam: 15 feet
Draft: 4 feet, 6 inches
Max HP: 870 horsepower at 2100 RPM
The forty-seven-foot MLB is primarily designed for fast-response rescue in high seas up to thirty feet, surf up to twenty feet, and heavy weather environments—including winds up to fifty knots. With safety in mind, thirteen water-tight compartments were constructed; the forty-seven-foot MLB can self-right in only thirty seconds. With state-of-the-art electronically controlled engines, fuel-management systems, and an integrated electronics suite, including four coxswain control stations, the forty-seven-foot MLB has become the ideal platform for operations in extreme at-seas weather conditions. As of this writing, 117 forty-seven-foot MLBs are in service throughout the Coast Guard Rescue Station community, serving the public.
CG-25540, twenty-five-foot response boat–Homeland Security (RB-HS), defender class. An aluminum-hulled vessel, equipped with a rigid foam-filled flotation collar.
Length: 25 feet
Beam: 8 feet, 6 inches
Draft: 3 feet, 3 inches
Max HP: 450 horsepower
From Air Station Cape Cod
US Coast Guard Air Station Cape Cod (ASCC), with its four MH-60 Jayhawk-class helicopters and three HC-144A ocean sentry fixed-wing aircraft, is the only Coast Guard Aviation facility in the northeast. As such, ASCC is responsible for the waters from New Jersey to the Canadian border. Centrally located at Joint Base Cape Cod, ASCC maintains the ability to launch a helicopter and/or fixed-wing aircraft within thirty minutes of a call, 365 days a year, twenty-four hours a day, and in nearly all weather conditions. From here were deployed one MH-60 Jayhawk helicopter and one EADS HC-144 ocean sentry.
The MH-60 Jayhawk is a multimission, twin-engine, medium-range helicopter operated for search-and-rescue, law enforcement, military readiness, and marine environmental protection missions.
Top speed: 207 miles per hour
Range: 807.8 miles
Weight: 14,510 pounds
Wingspan: 54 feet
The EADS HC-144 ocean sentry is a medium-range, twin-engined surveillance aircraft used in search-and-rescue and maritime patrol missions.
Afloat:
Two 87-foot cutters:
USCGC Sailfish (WPB 87356) Sandy Hook, New Jersey
USCGC Tiger Shark (WPB 87359) Newport, Rhode Island
VOLUNTEER FLEET: VESSEL, CAPTAIN/OPERATOR
Act One, Charlie Morici
American Pride, Glenn Bickelman
Billy the Kid, Billy Carman and Kelly Lester
The Breakaway, Richard Etzel
Bookie, Robbo Freeman
Brooke C, Peter Spong
Clover, Chuck Etzel Jr.
Cat in the Hat, Dan Stavola
Daramiscotta, Brian Rade and Richie Rade
Hurry Up, Frank Braddick and Donny Briand
New Species, Mike Skarimbas
Lady K, Vinny Damm
Last Mango, Jimmy Buffett
Leatherneck, Al Schaffer
Leona, Vinny Giedratis
Montauk Marine Basin vessel, captained by Danny Christman and Chris Darenberg
Reanda S, Charlie Weimer Jr.
Two Sea Son, Wesley Peterson
Uihleins rental vessel, captained by Jordan Steele and Brad Bowers
Unnamed private vessel, captained by Charlie Etzel Sr.
Unnamed private vessel, captained by Kimberly owner Dan Farnham and David Tuma
Unnamed private vessel, captained by Jet Damm
Viking Five Star, Steven Forsberg and Family
“Good Samaritan” aircraft:
Cessna 182 owned and piloted by retired US Army Lieutenant Colonel Walter George Drago, recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross for Heroism and active with the US Coast Guard Auxiliary; passenger Chuck Weimer.
Appendix B
“The Tale of Johnny Load”
“The Tale of Johnny Load”
©Written by Nancy Atlas ®BMI Music 2016
Little Anthony woke up in the morning
To do dock and gear and get ice.
By nine in the evening he’d worked sixteen hours,
Not counting the four spent at Liar’s.
And Johnny came ready, able and steady.
He said, “Man, the first shift’s on me.
Go catch a few winks, down in the brink,
And I’ll wake you when the fathoms run deep.”
By three in the morning alone Johnny’s hauling,
The boat set on course dead ahead.
Johnny pulled with his back,
And the handle just snapped,
And that’s where this story begins, they said:
Hey Ho, save Johnny Load.
He fell overboard in the night.
Fifteen north of the canyon,
The moon’s his companion.
“With only his boots and a knife,” they said,
Hey Ho, save Johnny Load.
He’s a fisherman lost out at sea,
And he’s counting on you and the Montauk Crew
To bring him back to his Anna Mary.
There’s a scent in the slick and the sharks come on quick,
So you better play dead to survive.
Lock your eyes on the fins, let your body fall limp,
But keep a murderous grip on your knife.
Stay alive till the sun alerts everyone
That you’re just a speck in the sea.
And whatever you do, hold onto your boots,
They’ll be praying down at St. Therese, they’ll say:
Hey Ho, save Johnny Load.
He’s a fisherman lost out at sea.
And he’s counting on you and the Montauk Crew
To bring him back to his Anna Mary.
The ocean’s your mother,
Your bitch, and your lover,
And nobody gets to ride free.
It’s a roll of the dice
If she’ll let you survive.
So bow down, boys, to the queen.
Now Anthony woke, saw that the handle had broke,
And his head and his heart went on fire.
“Johnny!” he screamed. “Brother, where can you be!
Jesus, man, I hope you’re alive.”
And the fleets soon amassed, crisscrossing in patterns,
The choppers flew further off shore.
And Johnny could hear, the boats were so near,
But nobody saw him at all.
Now the days come to past and the flags at half mast
And the sun, well, it’s starting to drown.
Little Anthony says that “it’s full steam ahead.
I’m not going in till he’s found.”
It’s the choppers last pass, and he’s barely got gas,
But he’s going out past his last call.
Then the radio cracks,
There’s something to track…
“I see a Mark! Mark! Mark!
Anna Mary, we have your man!
He’s alive! He’s alive!!!”
/> ’Cause the ocean’s your mother,
Your bitch, and your lover,
And nobody gets to ride free.
It’s a roll of the dice
If she’ll let you survive.
So bow down, boys, to the queen.
Hey Ho, they saved Johnny Load.
He fell overboard in the night.
Fifteen north of the canyon,
The moon’s his companion,
With only his boots and a knife.
HEY HO, they saved Captain Load.
He was a fisherman lost out at sea
And he counted on you
and the Montauk Crew.
You brought him back to his Anna Mary.
You brought him back to his Anna Mary.
A Speck in the Sea Page 19