The Rochester and her accompanying destroyer, Collett, had been following me at flank speed.  The cruiser had to lay off pursuit because of shallowing waters.  But CAPT Smith, realizing the importance of time, had ordered Collett to continue.  She was shortly in view.  The inflated raft whipped around the shrouds and streamed the parachute.  The helicopter's airspeed increased then to 60 knots.

There were several things Collett needed to know.  First, the man's condition:  Unconscious apparently due entirely to the exposure, no other injuries apparent.  Disruption of pulse and respiration could be expected, and probably considerable loss of body temperature.  Secondly, with no crewman aboard, delivery of the man might not be very precise.  Some extra hands aft to receive him should enable that someone could grab hold and detach him wherever he might first be within reach.  Finally, I asked that someone be sent up on Collett's superstructure to indicate when the "cargo" was in position to be lowered to men on her stern.

CAPT Smith, monitoring my conversations with Collett, noted something which hadn't been mentioned.  On his command frequency, he instructed Collett to be sure someone on the stern had a sharp knife at ready to cut Abbott free.  He knew from the initial description to him of our equipment and procedures that the sling would be drawn tight and might be difficult to unhook.

Moments after asking Collett to send a man topside, I was close enough to see someone was already there. But that turned out to be an off-duty engineman CPO who had gone there on his own and was filming the event with a small, hand-held movie camera.  As I moved in over the ship, a sailor scurried up the rigging and told the chief of my need.  The chief looked at Abbott and at once signaled for lowering.

Moments later he signaled me up and away.  Somehow I had managed to gauge my position well enough for that immediate lowering.  And, in view of the speed with which they detached Abbott, there must have been some very sharp sailors on the fantail along with a sharp knife.

As I started back to get Crawford, I triggered the hoist to retrieve the cable.  But it wouldn't retrieve.  The drag of the parachute had fouled it on the tiedown reel which had been installed that morning to stabilize the port landing gear.  That activated a cut-off switch on the hoist boom which ordinarily served to prevent overpressure on the system when the weighted end of the cable "two-blocked".  The cable could still be lowered, but it could not be retrieved.  It would have been possible still to pick up Crawford out of the water.  But he would have had a ride back to the cruiser dangling forty feet below the helicopter in very cold air.

So Ernie would have to wait some longer.  But he would be safe enough, and should be reasonably comfortable, in his frogman suit on the raft which Laney had dropped.  Enroute back to the Rochester, instructions were given for the crew's handling of the cable as I must come in high above and then lower straight down to the deck.

There were no difficulties in that landing.  The cable was unfouled and reeled back onto the hoist.  Another crewman got aboard to assist in the pickup of Crawford.  As we flew toward Crawford, there was chatter on the radio's "guard" frequency about someone making it to the beach and going into the water.  One voice said, "Lay it on 'em!"  Another shortly said, "They're going back into their bunkers!  Look at those rascal's run!"

Somebody else was in trouble nearby.  I switched the radio to "guard" channel, identified myself, and asked for details.  The man now in trouble was Abbott's wingman, LT Laney.  It was his own seatpack raft which he had tried to drop to Crawford, instead of a cannister on a bomb rack which one or more planes in a strike often carried.  He had twice before made such a drop successfully.  But this time the raftpack caught on his plane's tail assembly, fouling its controls.  Laney could do little more than hold his Corsair's wings level as it belly-landed itself on the enemy shore, skidding to a stop about a half mile from the water.

Enemy troops came out of their bunkers.  (The area was fortified against possible amphibious invasion.)  Laney outran his pursuers to the beach (no small feat in his cumbersome anti-exposure suit), and continued out into the water as far as he could go and still keep his nose above water.  The troops fired at him from the water's edge until other aircraft arrived to drive them back to their bunkers.  Now Laney's squadron mates assured that they could keep him covered until I could return for him after picking up my crewman.

So Crawford had no raft!  Except for the fact that I had "promised" to provide one if I had to leave him, that fact of itself was not worrisome.  His life jacket was adequate flotation and the frogman suit protection from the cold water.  His water confidence training combined with his basic nature was assurance that he would not panic.

When we reached him, he deftly attached the hook of the his harness on the cable and was out of the water, homeward bound moments later.  He felt cool, he said, but not really cold; except for his hands in which he now had no feeling at all.  The other crewman opened his anti-exposure suit and held Ernie's chilled hands against his body.