A Probie's First Callout- Part 1

We had just finished a ropes rescue training session, it was 9 O'clock, dark, and slightly drizzling. There had been the usual SAR team bullshit arguing about our team standards, whether or not we should have attendance requirements, what our medical certification level should be, etc. Not surprisingly that all disappeared as everyone unconciously reached for their hip as the multitude of beeper tones and vibrations began.

The five probationary officers of my incoming class looked at each other. I'm sure it was a look akin to a combination of a deer in the headlights and a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. We'd been on the team for two weeks, had three training sessions of training under our belt and were very, very green. Hell, we barely knew how to call in 10-8 (on duty) to the dispatcher, all of just listened to radio traffic for a few minutes once we were in our cars.

The trailhead was only 15minutes away, it probably should have been twenty but most of us drove a little to fast. Of course, it didn't matter. In typical SAR fashion we stood around in the parking lot for 30min just waiting. One of the more experiences members of the team knowingly stopped and grabbed a burrito on the way over- I envied him for most of the next 10 hours.

Not much longer we had a National Parks Service helo on scene and the old, ex vietnam era military era, pilot to go with it (I say this with all due respect, it was the only helicopter we could get at night, in a slight rain). We also had the patient on a dieing cell phone but he didn't know where he was. The bird went up, the Haste team went up the trail and the search began in earest. All while the newbies sat on the bumpers of their cars.

I packed, repacked, and packed again my backpack. Then I drank a liter of gatorade, a liter of water, pissed a lot, and waited. All the while I wished I had packed more food than the package of oreos I scavenged from the floor of my car (the proverbial shit show that it is) and a cliff bar from a cycling jersey on said shit show. It didn't matter, I reasoned, there was no way I was going to be put "on the hill".

Word came back that they found the hiker and he was much farther south of where we were at. The whole shebang of private SAR cars, our mobile incident command center (a large motorhome), fire trucks, ambulances, and the rest picked up shop and moved to a closer location. I hesitate to call it a trailhead because, well, there was no trail. Again, everyone who knew how to do something did it and the probies waited. I made sure I had my pack on and clothes ready to go so I wouldn't have to strip off any layers if I got to go up...

"What about Jason, he teaches Wilderness EMT classes, let him go up" I have good ears and a curious mind and I couldn't help but overhear one of the training officers talking to a COG (crusty old guy- again, a term of incredible indeerment).
"Nah" A simple anwer accompanied by a head shake that seemed final. My hopes, what little were there, were killed.
Yet, another training officer began speaking to the COG and after 5min he nodded, very subtley, and walked away. I wouldn't let myself believe it, I had to be making things up.
"Jason, you have your pack ready?"
"Yes maam"
"Good, follow Kenny, you're chief medical, don't fuck up"

To be continued.....