This story is from my friend Truman. He is getting on in years now, 80, and doesn't get around much anymore. But I still have his story.

"IN GOLDEN POND" (c)1999

by

Truman

It was the day after Christmas and what a beautiful day it was --- sun shinning, a bit warmer, but ice still on the stock ponds.

There was no hint that it might turn out to be the last day of my life.

Heather and Kayla, our granddaughters, had come out from town to spend the afternoon. Cody came over from his house beyond the pond to ask if the girls could come over and see the presents that he'd gotten for Christmas? Cody is 12. The girls are 11 and nine (now Heather in is College in Minnesota and Kayla graduated from highschool this year).

It was a good idea for them to go, since I was reading Christmas cards outside and Cody's little dog Baba was barking, as always, playing with our three dogs. Actually, one of the dogs, Missy, a black Labrador

Retriever, had been a Christmas present for the girls three years before, but she stayed in the country with us.

Anyway, the dogs were noisy, so I gave permission for all to go over to Cody's, because I was outside and could observe and supervise their safe arrival. Not that there was really any question about their safety. The only hazard was the pond, but all three children knew that frozen ponds are a No-No and that every year children break through the ice and die. Already this year there had been four such deaths in the state.

I was happy reading the Holiday cards I had gotten, but haunted by those I no longer received, especially from my World War Two buddies. It was a sobering thought. Senator Bob Dole, making a pitch for a Wold War Two Memorial in Washington D.C., pointed out that over a thousand WW-II veterans were dying each day --- more than thirty-thousand a month. So I naturally wondered just when and how my life would end.

All three kids had gotten beyond the pond, but I noticed Kayla, the 9 year old, was returning, crying and yelling something. She was at least a hundred yards away and I couldn't make out what she was saying over the excited barking of the dogs. But walking toward her, I finally heard her sob, "Missy is in the pond!"

I yelled back that I was on my way and, as I grabbed a coil of rope and a ladder, I called out to Margot, my wife, who was in the house, that Missy was in the pond and that I was on my way to help.

As I started to run, I reminded myself that I would be 75 years old in a couple of weeks, if I didn't screw up. I was also well acquainted with the effects and self deception when adrenaline kicks in, so I cut my running back to jogging. Otherwise, I would be useless by the time I reached my destination --- if indeed I even got that far.

Adrenaline can eliminate pain, increase strength and put you into warp speed. It's like flying a relatively slower B-17 when the faster fighter aircraft of the Luftwaffe are queuing up for the attack. The instinct is to fight or flee. Open the throttle and superchargers all the way and get it on. But, that is a shortcut to disaster. It's better to shift into a slower gear for a longer battle, because it always takes longer than expected... And as for doing battle, I was physically

no longer the best candidate.

Three years before I had exceeded my physical limits and ruptured my main aorta. Termination had come down to less than sixty seconds, but Dr. Gilbert did his magic and replaced the aneurysm with some hardware that he guaranteed for 200 years. However, I had jumped into the middle of a fight between two of our dogs too soon afterward and gave myself a hernia.

A lack of circulation in the left leg a year later reduced my walking range to a hundred yards and a couple of doctors shot some dye into my vascular system to try and get a better picture of where the blockage was. The only thing that came of that procedure was a damaged nerve bundle in my left armpit, which seemed to freeze and paralyze the three center fingers of my left hand. But along the way, evidence showed up that, unknown to me, I'd had a heart attack about ten years ago. It had left scar tissue and had probably cut performance by twenty

percent.

But thanks to adrenaline, I was in no pain when I reached the pond.

I wasn't even short of breath from my 54 year old two- pack-a-day habit.

I felt great!

"Hang in there, Missy. I'm on my way!"

Margot arrived just as I slid the ladder onto the ice and headed for Missy who was frantically dog-paddling hard in a pool of water about six feet across, with the ice breaking away when she tried to get up onto it. However, she was way out there, at least forty feet away, and would never be able to save herself.

I had once crashed into the warm water of the Amazon and I had also read the manual on rescuing a person from breaking through the ice. But saving a dog from such a fate --- I had no experience.

The book had said, use a ladder to distribute your weight over the ice to prevent yourself from breaking through. I had agreed with the logic when I read it and filed it away --- just in case. However, the book did not say; DON'T USE A METAL LADDER.

I had grabbed the closest ladder, which was nice and light, because it was made of aluminum, which also had sharp cutting edges. The rope I grabbed, which I had used to safety myself while working on the roof last summer, was 20 feet long.

Now, how far out on the ice was Missy?

If I had the time to think about it, I was as prepared to scoot out onto the ice and rescue Missy, forty feet away, as if I were running into a burning building with a bucket of gasoline.

Margot arrived behind me on the bank, just as I started skooting the ladder toward my target, Missy.

I got about 20 feet from the bank before I crashed through the ice!

The left legs of the ladder followed my left leg into the water and cut away six feet of ice in front of me. Full and empty, I had observed the pond for 30 years and I knew that where I was it was over 12 feet deep. The good news was that I was able to swim at least six feet more toward Missy.

"Come on Missy." I called and started breaking ice in her direction. She responded and swam toward me doing the same. So between our efforts, we broke through the 10 feet of ice separating us.

The bad news was, she almost sunk me as she paddled and kicked over me in her struggled to go in the direction from which I had come --- toward Margot on the bank.

I spit out the water I'd gulped and for some reason seemed surprised at how very cold it was. Strange. I was up to my neck in freezing water, but hadn't realized how cold it was until it came into my mouth. The reason for the distortion was that I had lost feeling in my body and legs. I was numb and practically paralyzed. I knew this when I tried swimming after Missy, because I barely moved through the water.

Yet, I did manage to get to her as she struggled, but failed to get up onto the ice between us and the bank. But unlike the thinner ice toward the middle of the pond, it would not break away. I tried to help by adding my weight of 215 pounds by hammering on the ice with my elbows. However, the ice would not give way. Not only because it was thicker, but in the water I did not weigh 215 pounds.

In the furry of Missy clawing at the ice and kicking, she almost flooded me again. So I grabbed her butt in my right hand and shoved her up onto the ice. The equal and opposite reaction sunk me to the bottom.

Yes, I had touched the bottom about six feet down, resurfaced and spewed more cold water from my mouth.

TIME! Had my time finally run out? Was it Panic Time? Not if I wanted to survive.

With no power in my legs, it was like having lost three engines in the flak over the target in the middle of Germany. The other parallel to flying combat was: You fight like hell to get to the target for noble reasons, then you fight like hell for yourself to get back home.

But what could I do to get back home?

NOTHING! It was time to slow down and do NOTHING, except to float and save what energy I might have. Don't waste it. Rest!

I let my body relax and float, except my legs floated up --- and under the ice. I didn't want my body going under the ice, so I struggled to get vertical and called to Margot, "Throw me the rope!"

Well, there was a problem with that. The coil of rope that I'd brought with me was on the ice between Margot and myself. I had carried it with me out onto the ice and dropped it there when I had placed the ladder. If she came onto the ice for the rope ---. Well, there was no point even considering it.

Nobody had panicked. Kayla had run to the house and phoned my son-in-law, David, who had called his dad, who lived closer to me than he did. Margot had sent Heather to the house in the car to get a toboggan sled to scoot out onto the ice. Heather, using her mind, had also gathered up a lot of towels to dry and to cover me when I did get out.

Cody was also thinking and had put things together as to what was required. He ran to his garage and returned to Margot with a rope and a life jacket. So Margot swung the rope and threw it toward me --- missing her target.

She retrieved the rope and threw a second time, with the end of it hitting within a couple of inches from my hands at rest up on the ice.

It was great! Except I had trouble moving my fingers. Not only the ones the doctors had numbed on my left hand, but the fingers on my right hand that were numbed from the cold. After the medical procedure, I had not been able to tie my shoe laces nor a necktie for a year. Now my life depended on my fingers being able to tie a loop in the rope and get it around me.

I could hardly feel the rope in may hands. Likewise, I barely felt the cold of my body, so I just stared at my hands in front of me and watched them starting to spasm out of control.

What a blessing it turned out to be. As they jerked about on their own, I was able to override a bit and willed them to jump toward forming a loop. It took precious time, but it worked.

Eventually I got the loop under my right armpit and around my neck.

Margot anxiously took up the slack, but I called for a halt when it started to choke me. She gave me some slack and, ever so slowly, I was able to get the loop also under my left arm.

"Okay! PULL!"

She couldn't do it. It was the bad angle that defeated us.

The line was so close to the ice that the resultant force was not up and out, but pulling me solidly into the edge of the ice.

Two things were needed. More force and for me to be above the ice to improve the angle.

Cody grabbed onto the line with Margot. I got ready with my elbows on the ice and called, "OKAY, PULL!".

I was into my last reserve energy, but it worked. The line pulled me forward, and I levered myself up with my elbows. I felt myself fall forward onto the top of the ice and I quit, feeling Margot and Cody sliding me across the ice to the shoreline. Then they drug me up the bank, because all of my systems had shut down and I just lay there.

Heather had kept the car running, so it was warm inside and they covered me with the towels. Margot drove me to the back door where Dave's dad had arrived when he arrived at the front door.

I was given some time to recuperate and get some feeling back into my legs. Even so, I couldn't make it alone and Dave's dad helped me into the house where Margot was filling the tub with warm --- but not too warm --- water. Margot gave me a shot of whiskey to dilate my blood vessels.

After an hour and a half in the tub, I was again operational and checked my blood pressure. It was 127 over 82; better than usual, and not bad for an old man. But to play it safe, I took an aspirin.

And as I relate this story, now with time to think, I know that judgments will be made about how stupid I might have been, or the question of leaving a poor dog to die, but it won't change it.

Truman