My first search-and-rescue operation occurred off Point Pelee on Lake Erie in late October of 1965. A General Motors executive had gone missing while fishing and was long overdue for dinner. I was a newly minted 3rd class quartermaster at the time, and my ship, the Bramble, was dispatched to assist in the search.

It was a beautiful fall evening with a calm sea and clear sky. I was off watch at the time, enjoying the night air from a location on the buoy deck with a shipmate. Less than two hours into the search, a lone lifejacket floating on the surface was illuminated by the beam of one of the ship's searchlights, and the decision was made to maneuver the ship close aboard to retrieve, rather than lower a small boat. Being hailed from the bridge directly above, the two of us were directed to stand by for its recovery. Armed with a very long boat hook, my shipmate soon lost sight of the lifejacket as it disappeared in the shadow of the ship's hull, as a result of the searchlight above being unable to sufficiently depress in elevation to keep it illuminated. Recognizing the problem, I trained a portable battle lantern on the jacket to complete the retrieval.

Hanging over the rail of the ship, I held the beam on the jacket while my friend snagged it with his boathook. From all initial indications, it was nothing more than a discarded lifesaving device, afloat and alone on the surface, providing no support to anything or anyone. As it was carefully lifted from the surface, I illuminated the center of the jacket as it came clear of the water. Directly beneath hung the various straps common to all such PFDs weighted by the snaps that acted as sinkers. When all but fully clear of the water, a human hand suddenly emerged from beneath the surface, as if reaching out to us, followed by a forearm and elbow and lastly the top of a head, before slipping out of the tangled straps and sinking beneath the surface.

From all indications, it appeared that the victim had failed to properly don the jacket, having hung onto it with only an arm looped through the jacket before dying from exposure. With near-neutral buoyancy, he remained submerged until his arm was lifted clear of the surface, only to slip from what little was holding him in check.

The date was October 31, Halloween night. Two days would be spent dragging for this victim, with no success. With the opening of the shipping season the following spring, a passing freighter would sight the man's remains near the East Outer Light.

Life in the Coast Guard was about to get very interesting.