It took a month until Vic was fully legal and able to fly on his own. In the meantime he shared copilot and mechanic duties, going home twice a week for a day and night with his beloved Susan Jane. The rest of the time he was a North Sea pilot.
Jim seemed to have taken a special liking to Vic and was always looking for opportunity to give him good jobs and opportunities.
Summer passed with mostly good weather. Now each week Vic typically flew 3 days doing ferry trips out to the rigs and spent two days at base, checking his machine and arranging trips or doing various training and certification courses. Most weeks he had two days off at home, sometimes days together and sometimes single days.
Susan was always glad to see Vic and their days and nights together were a delight. But with all her family around her need and dependence on Vic was much reduced.
Susan’s pregnancy was how beginning to show. In his nights with her Vic took great delight in placing his hand on her belly, feeling tiny movements. It blew his mind that he had created this new life inside her body.
It was a two to three hour drive from the highland farm to Aberdeen so when at work Vic stopped over in a small pub in the centre of town near the oil rig helicopter base. He gradually got to know both other pilots and crew who flew and maintained the machines along with others from the town, particularly the fishermen who crewed the trawlers based here.
They would tell tall tales of winter trips, huge seas and wild weather. Several had lost mates in storms in that unforgiving place out over the horizon, called the North Sea.
One of the things Vic had undertaken in his work was emergency rescue training. That way when ships got into trouble in the bad weather, a not infrequent event for the many sailing boats and fishing trawlers which plied the North Sea, he could respond if he was closest to hand. He had been assigned a crew for major search and rescue events of two others, a trained observer who also served as winch operator and a rescue man, Reg, who would strap himself to a line on the winch and go down when required.
The three of them did a weekly training run, him holding a hover with the winch team practicing a retrieval. They were getting pretty slick in this operation and could scramble and be in the air in less than five minutes. However, as Jim, old and experienced rescue pilot, told them, it was one thing to do practice drills in good weather. It was entirely different to do it for real in a howling gale.
In the autumn the first of the winter storms came. This first storm was only a moderate event with force five to six gale winds. So Vic continued his ferry operations, but got his first taste of bad weather flying in this part of the world. He marveled as the sea transformed from a one to two meter rolling swell to a five meter broken lumpy ocean, whipped into whitecaps. His skill was tested holding a flat hover over the rig with a 40 knot nor-wester. But the big heavy machine rode the buffeting well and his hands were now tuned to the slightest wind changes.
He found he could hold it steady better than most. He enjoyed the challenge of the wild weather, it was a test for his skill and he rose to the test, improving with this real life practice. Soon the weather settled again to a glorious late autumn and he enjoyed his drives to and from the highlands, watching the low slanting sun carved through a glowing sky adding to the brilliant colors of the falling leaves along the roadsides.
One day in early November he was driving back to Aberdeen and the weather was at its brilliant best when he heard a news flash; sudden intensification of a low pressure system in the mid-north Atlantic. It was located south-west of Iceland with a bearing for the north of Scotland and Ireland. The bad weather was set to intensify over the next twenty four hours. A Force 8 wind event was predicted. They would not fly past Force 7 except for major emergencies so he thought he might end up sitting in base. But they needed to be ready to mobilize for emergencies. At the base there was frantic activity, seeking to jam several ferry trips in today, so as to get machinery and people on and off the rigs before the weather turned bad.
Vic flew four trips out and back, mostly carrying people to get the non-essentials workers off the rigs, doing crew changes wherever possible before several days when they may not be able to fly.
The next day the weather was bad, even in the shelter of the port; gusting winds, driving rain and endless grey skies. There were no flights as, even though the weather was just within allowed flight limits, it was deemed unnecessary as the essential work was done the day before.
So mostly they sat around the base and listened to the radio, doing minor maintenance but staying on high alert lest a call out came. In the fading light of the four o’clock news a new alert came out predicting a major intensification of the system later tonight to a Force Eight or even Nine event. Shortly after this a Mayday call came from a small fishing trawler in trouble in the North Sea about 100 miles north-east of Aberdeen. Vic was listed as the first responder so he called the crew and they rolled the machine out of the hangar. He warmed up the engines while they waited to see who would be given the task, whether a boat nearby could respond or whether a helicopter would be called in. This was a call that the full time helicopter rescue base would normally respond to and he was waiting as a backup.
There was a static of chatter across the airwaves, saying the nearest ship able to respond was 1-2 hours sailing time away and with heavy seas it may take longer. The regular helicopter rescue machine was already out, having just done another job. It needed to return to base to take on fuel before it could get out that far. It was an estimated 45 minutes flying time for Vic, however the weather was deteriorating and it was a marginal call whether it was still safe to fly. In the meantime one of the crew was on the phone back into town to see if he could get better information about the fishing trawler, as it was Aberdeen based. It turned out that several of the trawler’s crew were locals, well known in the town.
That did it, Vic called in. “We are best placed to respond and flying conditions are still suitable (just – he muttered under his breath) so clearance requested to respond.”
Clearance was granted but with the statement, “pilot to return to base if conditions deteriorate further.” Vic blocked out the second part, he had a job to do. He did a final check of the machine, while the crew checked their gear. Then they were away.
The wind was at 90 degrees to their course gusting to over 50 knots as they cleared the port, so they proceeded with a crab wise angle, but still maintaining a hundred knots plus, giving an estimated time to arrival of 45 to 50 minutes. The trawler had lost its engine and was rolling in ten meter swells, the crew considering abandoning ship to a life raft as the big waves threatened to overwhelm it without steerage. The mechanic was working furiously on getting the engine going and now Vic had the boat on the radio he could talk himself in.
As they were holding a steady course a massive buffeting gust pushed them off line and his wind speed measurement kicked up to over 70 knots. He knew at this point it was exceeding safe limits for the machine and he should return to base.
But hell, these people were locals of the town, his mates had drunk with them, they were in deep trouble. He could not leave them out there without an engine. So he pushed on, now the wind was so strong he was down to 90 knots forward, pushing his arrival time out by an extra five minutes.
Fortunately the machine still felt solid and stable despite the buffeting as the wind bounced around. Some of the gusts were now getting close to 100 knots he realized as he closed on the trawler. Finally they spotted it, a tiny dot between massive waves.
As he drew level he turned the machine to face into the wind and, slowing to a hover above it, he saw his airspeed still read 85 knots. He know attempting a winch rescue in this was foolhardy and dangerous to helicopter and crew, particularly the man on the rope. He asked Reg who would be going down whether he wanted to go ahead. It was really past the limits of what they could do.
Reg answered. “These guys are my mates, I drink at the pub most days with them when they are in port. So y
ou hold her steady, I will go get them.”
Vic nodded and looked out towards the horizon. Barely a kilometer away he saw a massive bracket of at least three waves. If those hit the boat it would roll over and that would be the end. He called out to Reg and the winch man, “Only got a couple minutes with that coming. I will get as low as I can, that way the down draft will keep you flatter.”
He brought the machine to a bare fifty feet above the trawler mast and held it as still as possible, the twin turbines roaring with the strain.
He nodded to Reg; he was down and in a minute he was up again with the first two, then heading down again for the final two.
Vic spared glimpse towards the horizon. The waves were getting real close now, three big ones in a bracket and then a total monster behind. He knew, in that instant, that the boat would be unlikely to ride out the first three and if they did the last one would turn it over and that would be the end of anything below.
He called out over the radio, “Need to be away in less than thirty seconds, once those waves hit I need to get up into the sky. I won’t be able to hold steady above them at this height.”
He could see Reg on the lurching deck now, clipping on the harnesses to the other two. The first wave was almost upon them towering up to the helicopters height. In ten seconds Vic would have to dial on the power and pull up to keep clear.
He called out “Ten seconds max.”
Now the boat was rolling into forty five degrees and the man was still fumbling with his harness. Vic called to the winch man, “I am going up, let out against me, they need a bit longer.”
As the machine responded to the power and came up just above the wave crest he looked below, the boat had come over the wave and just righted, but was now deep in the water, as if it had half filled in the roll.
Vic knew the next wave would finish it. It was ever bigger than the first, he needed more height. He watched it thunder towards them, holding as steady as he could while the precious seconds ticked by.
Just when he could wait no longer the call came, “Up and away.”
He powered into the sky, pulling three men on the line clear of the wave by what looked like inches. Then they were up to a safe height and the three came fully up. The trawler was now lying on its side in the water. It was still there after the third wave passed by.
The fourth wave sound like a freight train as it thundered through; even above the engine roar and wind howl. It seemed to pass bare meters below the machine as it sat there while the winch man got all the men from below on board and directed them for home.
Vic held steady for a few more seconds until the wave had gone past. Of the trawler no sign remained in the sea below.
He turned the helicopter for home and felt it shoot forward like a stone from catapult with the wind behind it.
Chapter 36 – Reluctant Hero
As Vic came in to land a crowd was gathered at the helicopter base to welcome them home with cheers and claps. As he shut the helicopter down he saw Jim heading his way with a concerned look on his face. It seemed out of character with all the well wishers. He wondered what he had done.
Vic walked over to him and Jim pulled him away to the side of all the people “Well done young fella. I gather that was a neat piece of flying to get them out. But other news is more important right now.
“Your wife’s aunt rang about half an hour ago to say your wife has gone into labor. So I thought you might want to escape the celebrations and head home. It is not the best driving weather, but it is better than flying.”
I gather all is fine but the aunt thought you would want to be there.”
Vic thanked him and slipped out the back to his car, unnoticed. The drive was wild, wet and windy. Despite his anxiety to go fast he kept his speed under control, not wanting to slide into a ditch.
It took two hours of intense concentration to reach the local small town hospital where Susan was waiting. She was pale and drawn. A contraction came as he entered the ward. As it passed she greeted him with her usual smile, interrupted by another spasm.
He held her hand and they talked quietly in between contractions.
The midwife advised that all was proceeding normally. The baby seemed strong even if three weeks early and it was just a matter of letting it happen in its own good time.
Vic had spent little time in hospitals; his only experience was when they operated on a broken leg. Then he had left early to search for a missing Susan. That seemed a life time ago and he blessed all that he could think of that she was here again with him and now it was about their product of their new life together.
He said a silent prayer for the day to go well, but felt an unformed terror of yet another problem arising, how the unforeseen had a habit of rising up each time their life seemed comfortable.
He calmed his mind. This time hospital seemed like a much better place. The nurses were reassuring, the doctor quietly competent. It was just him and Susan’s aunt there with her, her parents were due up in a fortnight to mind the children for her predicted delivery. They were now on their way and he welcomed the thought of their quiet competence.
He felt he should be in control and reassuring but he was scared. Despite having seen it often in livestock, this birth business was no joke. He found himself more anxious for Susan and the baby than he was in the middle of a Force 9 gale trying to hold a lurching helicopter steady.
Each time she contracted his body contracted too in a fear spasm. It proceeded slowly, contraction following contraction, becoming more frequent until almost continuous. The midwife checked and announced she was fully dilated and it would happen very soon.
They gave her gas to breathe on and told her to get ready for a final push. Vic held both her hands as her face contorted and she cried out. His heart was in his mouth. Then suddenly it was there, the black head pushing out between her legs, an almost pop as the body slithered through into the waiting hands.
After a quick wipe and shake to clear the mucus this little creature was drawing breaths. Its color went from bluish to pink. The nurse wrapped it in a small blanket and passed it to him to hold. He looked at the unknown object and saw a little face, perfectly formed eyes and nose, and his black hair.
In that moment it was no longer an object but a living, breathing person they had made. The emotion of what they had created almost overwhelmed him. It was the most perfect day in his life, to have lost this woman and found her again, now to share the birth of this new human being with her, to hold it, a joined part of them both. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks as he gazed at their baby.
He carried the small bundle over to his most beautiful darling and placed it in her arms. She looked at them both with a radiant smile, then tucked the bundle and him inside her arms. It felt unbelievably good.
She stayed in hospital for five days, not that she needed to but the baby was a bit small so they wanted to see it well settled and feeding before it went home. And the hospital was hardly busy, just Susan and one other mother in the maternity ward so there was no rush.
Vic barely left her side while other relatives ferried brother David and sister Anne in to see their baby brother. Susan announced the next morning that this baby was named Victor Thomas, or Vic junior for short, she did not ask Vic, she just said it was what she wanted. Who was he to disagree?
On the third day the weather cleared, the storm had blown itself out somewhere across the middle of Europe. As they ate a leisurely breakfast in the hospital bed the nurse came in with a newspaper held out.
“Didn’t know you were a hero, did you,” she said with a smirk. There was a photo of Vic, making his exit from the helicopter on his return to base.
It began,
HELICOPTER PILOT HERO.
But for a remarkable piece of flying by helicopter pilot Vic Campbell, four men would have lost their lives when a fishing trawler foundered in the North Sea in this week’s huge storm.
Yesterday we told of the remarkable brav
ery of the man who went down to winch the four crew of the trawler to safety. But all those involved say the true hero of the story is the pilot. He brought his helicopter down to wave height and held it steady as four huge waves came crashing in, holding position as wave after wave rolled past, first capsizing then sinking the boat as the sea thundered over it. All the while the pilot held the helicopter steady allowing the men cling to life and be lifted out on a flimsy line.
With waves of 50 feet bearing down and a Force 9 -10 gale only pilot skill allowed the crew to be winched up to safety. The pilot somehow kept the helicopter bare feet above the wave tops so the down draft allowed the winch to operate despite the hundred mile an hour gale. Those who saw it describe it as the most skillful and courageous flying feat they have witnessed.
But where is Vic, reluctant hero. Rumor has it that on this same night his wife gave birth to a child. So Vic drove through this same storm across the highlands to be with her at the birth. Mother and baby are reported as fine.
It is with the heartfelt thanks that all the people of Aberdeen commend Vic for his skill and bravery and wish the very best to this new family!
Vic winced as he read it, he should have felt flattered. But now, as a local hero, all the reporters would descend on the hospital. It was no secret here who Susan was, the new mother. In days the story would be out.
He was tired of running away. Susan had done nothing to be ashamed of; he had done nothing to be ashamed of. He knew it was now far out of his control, but he was not going to hide from it again. He would hold his head high and if any reporter came to him saying nasty things about his wife he would punch him in the mouth like he had the last one. This time, he would let the story run its course. He hoped it would all end up OK, but he would not run away. At least this time it was Susan who was in hospital not him and she was totally and utterly captivated by the new little Vic.
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