Dave Greenberg - Emergency Response: Life, Death and Helicopters

THERE ARE MANY people who have helped me to create a life better than I could have ever imagined and to complete this book.

Firstly, my parents, Judy and Bill Greenberg, who taught me right from wrong, showed me what good manners were and why they mattered, always wanted me to do well, put up with a lot of crap from me in my teenage years, and stuck by me across all the miles. You didnt always agree with or like my decisions (especially staying in New Zealand!) but you never stopped encouraging or loving me.

Foster Schucker who mentored my IT career and was instrumental in my move to New Zealand.

My New Zealand family and friends who have shared, and seen me through, the highs and lows over the past 25 years. Your phone calls, texts, meals and hugs have meant so much to me. You are the reason that I have coped with the things I have seen, done and been part of.

Georgia and Zara. I have known both of you since you were hours old, and you have kept me amazed and amused ever since. Watching you grow up, and seeing life through your eyes, has been life-changing. You are proof that it is easier, cheaper and more fun to be an uncle than a dad.

John Goldswain, who brought me into the Life Flight family in 1991; although we didnt always see eye to eye, you were an amazing boss, teammate and friend. You were taken way too early my friend, but you made an incredible, positive, difference to my life and thousands of others.

Adrienne Kohler. Who would have thought a chance conversation at a pub quiz would end up in you becoming my editor? Thank you for helping me lift my story from a police report to the book it has become.

The many friends and colleagues who pre-bought the book, believing in me and my ability to get it done.

Harry Mills and the others at Bizdojo, Wellington, who constantly motivated me with ideas, encouragement, coffee and whatever else it took to get the book done!

Lastly, to all the incredible pilots, crew, paramedics, police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, dispatchers, call-takers, flight coordinators, engineers, administration and fundraising people I have worked with. Saving lives is a team effort and I have been privileged to work with some of the most compassionate, dedicated and skilled people in the world.

PREFACE

I HAVE COMPILED this book using my memories, logs, media reports and by speaking with some of those involved. The least reliable of all these is my memory! Over time waves seem to get bigger and winds stronger.

With nearly 4000 missions to recall, I have only managed to look back on a few. I hope that I do not offend any of my workmates or colleagues if you are not specifically mentioned.

Many people were uncomfortable with their surnames being used, so I made a blanket rule that unless I have specific permission, I have only used someones first name. Some people have asked not to be identified at all.

Any patient identified in the story has given permission for their story to be told through my eyes. I am very grateful that you have trusted me to tell it and I hope I have told it well.

In most cases I have used UK spelling, as opposed to USA spelling. I have converted all measurements to the metric system, which will be particularly strange for the aviators reading this.

PROLOGUE

ITS EVERY RESCUE teams worst nightmare and, like every nightmare, it seemed to happen in slow motion. I was standing in the doorway of the rescue helicopter; gale-force winds pounding us above a churning, angry sea. We were winching nine sailors off a stricken yacht two were already safely in the helicopter, and the next two were on the winch hook and approaching the skid. So far, the rescue had gone as smoothly as could be expected in such terrible conditions. The two sailors were only a metre below the skid, seconds from safety.

As we watched, one of the sailors bodies went limp; he let go of the hook, his arms came up, and he slipped out of the rescue harness, plunging nearly 10 metres into the turbulent waves, disappearing below the water.

We were running low on fuel and only had minutes to find him if he was even on the surface. The 40-foot yacht we had rescued him from had been difficult to spot in these seas, so we knew the chances of spotting him were slim.

Minutes later, I was on a winch line being dragged through some of the biggest waves I had ever been in, desperately searching for him. As I came through a breaking wave, there he was, directly in front of me. He reached out for me as I reached for him. I wasnt sure which of us was happier to see the other. I shouted at him over the howl of the gale and hovering helicopter: Gday, Im Dave.

ONE

GROWING UP IN NEW YORK

I WAS 13 years old the first time I kissed another person on the lips. It was in the middle of a New York City sidewalk, and it was nothing like the soft tender kiss that my friends at school bragged about.