Cyclone in the English Channel: Search & Rescue Go
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Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities. So do like I did and have one of your assistant's assistants switch you to Mint Mobile today.

I'm told it's super easy to do at mintmobile.com slash switch. Upfront payment of $45 for three-month plan equivalent to $15 per month required. Intro rate first three months only, then full price plan options available. Taxes and fees extra. See full terms at mintmobile.com. It's January the 18th, 2007 in the English Channel, somewhere between the Cornish Peninsula and the northwest coast of France. Cyclonic winds churn the green-gray sea.

Waves as high as two-story houses surge in from the west, white horses galloping at their peaks. A swirling mist covers the icy surface of the water. Visibility is practically zero. Above it all, a Sea King helicopter, callsign Rescue 194, hovers. For the pilot to hold position in the face of such ferocious gales takes tremendous skill. Below, a bright orange lifeboat is tossed around like a cork on the towering waves.

The pointed vessel is around 20 feet long and 7 feet wide. The craft has a rigid fiberglass body with an enclosed cabin. Huddled inside are the crew of the container ship Napoli, abandoned after gaping cracks appeared in her hull. The gargantuan waves pummel them with sickening monotony as the craft pitches wildly.

Outside, on the lifeboat's small deck, Royal Navy diver Jay O'Donnell clings on precariously as the full savagery of the storm bears down on him. Jay wears the distinctive red wetsuit of a search and rescue diver. His knees bend as he rides each fresh onslaught. Looking up, the 33-year-old can make out the orange nose and tail of Rescue 194. A cable trails from the open side of the helicopter, rescue harness on the end.

Jay pulls on it, fighting the wind as he brings the line and harness in. So far, he has helped half a dozen men to safety. But by his reckoning, there are about 20 more to go. He just has to keep going. But then, the lifeboat drops like a stone as the mass of water beneath it disappears. A split second later, a 40-foot wave pulses in and hurls the boat sharply back up. Jay holds on for dear life. The sea was just...

I've just never seen it that big. It's the middle of the English Channel and it was monstrous. In the chaos, the line from the helicopter becomes tangled around two rails on the roof of the cabin. Without it, Jay can't get anyone else to safety. He heaves himself up on top of the lifeboat and lies flat, wedging himself into position, gripping tightly with one hand. With his other, free hand, he tries to release the trapped line. He has to work quickly.

If the lifeboat sinks down again, the line will go taut. It could snap like an elastic band, whipping back up towards the Sea King. Worst case scenario, it gets caught in the aircraft's tail rotor and brings the chopper down. Another wave, at least 50 feet high, takes hold of the lifeboat, tilting it until it's almost vertical. All of a sudden, Jay is looking down into the heart of the vortex.

and I thought we're going over because I'm at the top of this wave nearly and there's no way this lifeboat is supposed to be this far up. I was literally vertical looking down this wave thinking it's going over, I'm a goner, I'm going over. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories.

These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Petty Officer Jay O'Donnell, a 33-year-old search and rescue diver. In January 2007, as a major once-in-a-lifetime cyclone approaches the UK, Jay finds himself responsible for the lives of 26 people.

After a catastrophe in the English Channel, a tiny lifeboat stuffed with crewmen is left at the mercy of the furious sea. As Jay flies in to help, it becomes clear that this rescue mission is beyond anything he or his colleagues have ever encountered. Technical issues, appalling conditions, and even a man overboard all make the mission seem insurmountable. And if he is to save these 26 souls, Jay also has to find a way to survive himself. I just had a moment

a split second thought that this scenario was impossible. It was impossible to win. It was impossible to get over because it felt like a near-death moment. I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Network. This is Real Survival Stories. It's the morning of January the 18th, 2007 at Kuldro's Royal Navy Air Station in Cornwall, also known as HMS Seahawk. In one of the air base's busy meeting rooms, J. O'Donnell takes his seat among his colleagues.

He doesn't know it yet, but today is going to be the most remarkable workday of his life. And the irony is, he's not even supposed to be on duty today. He has already worked the night shift and is all ready to go home. Just one last thing to do: attend the morning weather briefing. As Jay waits for it to begin, the meeting room is abuzz with talk of an emerging storm. The chatter dies as the man from the meteorological office begins his presentation.

The bespectacled academic doesn't really fit in with the aircrewmen and pilots who make up his audience, but he has their full attention. He tells them that a severe cyclonic storm originated three days ago off the coast of Newfoundland. It has now crossed the North Atlantic without losing any of its rage. He gestures to an image on his laptop showing the tightly backed ISO bars that indicate the cyclone's path. The storm has a name: Kirill. The guy from the Met Office describes it as an extremely rare event.

There's already been one fatality. His prediction is that when Kirill reaches the open water at the edge of the channel, the winds will get particularly intense. The briefing breaks up. Jay decides to stick around. If things are going to kick off, an extra diver will come in handy. But in all the excitement, he forgets to call his wife Louise.

It was quite manic in the squadron because day to day there was something like eight helicopters on the squadron. We would do military tasking and training, search and rescue training as well, plus obviously the search and rescue aircraft. 193 was the duty, 194 was the backup, and you could provide others. And so it was a busy old day and the weather was building. Just after 11am, the alarm sounds. The duty SAR commander answers an urgent SOS call.

A large vessel is sinking in the channel. The crew of 26 is abandoned ship. At the end of his last shift, Jay left his dive set in the duty helicopter, called Rescue 193, ready for his next mission. 193 is fully prepped, ready for takeoff. It makes sense for Jay to go out with them, especially as there's no other diver on the base that morning. He rushes to the ops room and presents himself to the SAR commander of 193.

I said, I heard there's loads of people in the water. Are you launching? Are you being tasked? Do you want me to come with you? And he went, I won't swear, but there was a lot of swearing involved. And he said, no, I don't. We've got a crew and you can get that dive set out of my aircraft now. This decision is hard to understand, baffling even. After all, Jay's whole life has prepared him for moments like this.

It all started on childhood holidays in Cornwall, when a young Jay and his family would visit the Flambards theme park, which just happened to be next door to the airbase at Caldross. I'd really go on at my parents. We've got to go to Flambards because it was jets taking off and helicopters taking off and circuiting day and night. I guess some of it is, you know, subliminal, but it probably was that hook. I want to do that. I want to be in those helicopters. I want to do that.

In 1991, aged 17, Jade took the first steps towards achieving his childhood dream. He joined the Navy. I grew up on the river in a small village in Devon. And so I was always part and parcel with the actual seaside, the water, the rivers, everything like that. And that led me into Sea Cadets, which led me into the Navy. I always had that view that I was going to join the Navy. It was just the one thing I always wanted to do. After eight weeks basic training, he moved into his chosen speciality.

Jay began as an aircraft engineer before going on to serve in Bosnia, which included a spell on the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal. It was during this time that he had a glimpse of what he really wanted to do with his life. There was guys hanging out at the back of the helicopter and I thought, who's that? What do they do? I just didn't know enough. That looks even cooler. I want to do that. And they said, yeah, you can do that. It can be an air crewman, but it's not for the faint hearted. It's a lot of hard work.

But hard work isn't something Jay shies away from. And in 1997, he transferred to Caldrow's to undertake the arduous training required to become a helicopter air crewman. After two years of graft, he was preparing for the front line. The next step was to take a ship's divers course. And that was a shock. That was a shock to the system. It's a three-week long course where you get shouted at, screamed at, you're on a conveyor belt, and you just don't seem to stop apart from when you shut your eyes at night.

And after that, I thought, why on earth did I ever sign up to do that? But he got through it, receiving extensive training in underwater surveillance, clearance and communication. After that, Jay went on to take an even more grueling course in order to become an elite search and rescue diver. Which, by the way, I'd like to point out, was the hardest eight, nine weeks of my life.

It's hard for a reason and it's constant jumping off of high platforms in just your wetsuit, fins, mask and snorkel to start with before you did it with a dive set on to teach you to do that day and then night and automate it so that you were safe. You had the technique then you know we'd go off on dive after dive. Tuesdays and Thursdays we were night diving.

as well so it's a really long day and you're just constantly wet soaking freezing cold in a wet suit again through the long soggy exhausting days Jay stayed the course eventually becoming a fully fledged SAR diver he had found his true vocation in life I've lived it and I loved it and I thought this is what I'm made for this is what I'm on the planet for music

So, as a storm sweeps across the channel, putting 26 lives in danger, Jay is understandably frustrated when he's told by a colleague that he's not needed. There are survivors in the water, and he can help. I took my dive set out and I was in a bit of a huff about that, thinking, what? Ridiculous. Ridiculous. I'm here. But then, amid the frenzy of the busy airbase, another man named Chuck comes jogging up to Jay.

And the SAR commander of 194 comes to speak to me, "Jay, Jay, what are you doing?" And I was like, "What do you mean what we're doing? I'm getting all my stuff out of 193 they don't want to dive in." He goes, "We do? We're getting launched." It was 26 people. I said, "Right, I'm going to chuck it all in the back of the aircraft." "Yeah, go on, man."

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He dashes over to helicopter 194, flings his kid inside, and clambers on board.

Jay puts on his ear defenders, neutering the roar of the chopper as it jolts skywards. The wind speed is at the absolute limit of what's safe for a helicopter launch. It feels like a giant, invisible hand is taking hold of the fuselage and angrily shaking it. The pilot steadies the aircraft. The helicopter tilts forwards and hurtles into the crosswinds. It's not long before they're out over the open water.

The sea gets bigger and rougher, the wind's really, really building and by now the storm's really hitting. The waters are so violent it's little wonder a ship has run into trouble today. The MSC Napoli is one of the biggest container ships in service. Nearly 900 feet long, this gigantic vessel is too wide to pass through the Panama Canal and yet she's manned by a crew of just 26.

Sailing out of Antwerp on the morning of January 17, her route took her directly into the path of the oncoming storm. Despite the atrocious weather, the Napoli plowed on. The captain was monitoring reports coming from the Met Office and was confident she could withstand anything the storm threw at her. At around 11 a.m., a series of massive waves pummeled the side of the ship. Then the crew heard the crack of metal torn asunder. The huge plates that formed the hull bulged outwards like a giant blister.

A moment later, the ship rolled, revealing a large vertical crack below the waterline. The captain had no choice, and the order to abandon ship was given. The crew clambered into their bulky immersion suits and took their places inside a tiny lifeboat which was winched down into the sea. Now all they can do is wait. Meanwhile, Rescue 194 heads out over the water with Jay on board. The sea was just… I'd just never seen it that big.

It's the middle of the English Channel and it was monstrous. The other helicopter, Rescue 193, is already on the scene. They're trying to lower a weighted line to the lifeboat. The little orange vessel writhes in the swell, most of its passengers hidden inside a covered compartment. The Napoli crew are not trained in high-line techniques. Jay watches as they lose several lines, snapped up and wrenched away by the winds. It's obvious that they need to get a diver down there, and he's the only one available.

Basically, they lost three or four of their high lines. They snapped all of them. And I'm jumping up and down in the aircraft going, Chuck, get on the radio. I know how to do this. Tell them to move. Tell them we can do this. And he's going, calm down, Jay. Calm down. Yeah, I know. I know. If you don't do it, I'm going to get on the radio and I'm going to scream at them. Get out of the way.

And then they came on the radio almost like they heard me. Yeah, 194, this is 193. We think that probably be in a better position with your diver. More tools in the box. Clearly unable to help right now, 193 pulls away and leaves things to 194. Now it is all on Jay. He calms himself and assesses the situation. Straight away, it's clear he has a big decision to make. I was looking at this life raft thinking, do I jump out the aircraft to the lifeboat or do I get winched?

Jumping into the sea is what he's trained to do. But the size of the waves gives him pause for thought. The surface is a constantly shifting frenzy of watery hills and valleys. I just thought, I could be swimming up against a 40, 50 foot wave and not get anywhere and not get to the vessel because it was skittish, it was all over the place. It was getting flipped as the waves came over and I thought I could just burn all my energy trying to swim through this vessel and not get to it.

Winching down it is. Rapidly, the winch is attached to Jay's harness, and he readies himself by the open door of the helicopter. He takes off his ear defenders, and the full roar of the storm hits him. It's like standing in the blast of a jet engine. He nods once to the winch operator, then swings out into the air. As the line is paid out and Jay descends, he is increasingly at the mercy of the winds.

Holding onto the cable with one hand, he uses the other to signal to the pilots so they can maneuver their helicopter closer to the lifeboat. There's no denying the severity of this situation. The likelihood of everyone making it out alive is slim and becoming even slimmer. Jay knows all too well how harrowing his job can be. Back in September 2000, a Greek passenger ferry went down off the coast of Paros in the Aegean Sea. 81 people died. Jay was there as part of the rescue effort.

While many were saved, Jay also pulled three dead out of the water on that tragic day. The incident haunted him for years. "I luckily don't have nightmares about it anymore, but I certainly did for a long time. There was obviously some pictures burnt into my memory that I could do without." It's something he's had to learn to deal with. And right now, as the waves rise up to meet him, Jay doesn't have time to dwell on the past.

So there I am, I'm on the winch now, knowing exactly what I'm doing, giving hand signals, lower the winch, okay, raise the winch. One minute I'm underwater and I'm like, "Oh, I'm in the water, I've got some buoyancy because I've got my wetsuit on and I've got like a mini life jacket thing and I'm trying to swim and the next minute I'm 20, 30 foot in the air still swimming, no water." It's chaos. Jay is flung up and down, in and out of the sea.

but he draws slowly precariously closer to the lifeboat until he can smell the diesel fumes from the engine there's a small exposed platform with a guard rail just in front of the door to the cupboard cabin jay aims for it and manages to get a foothold as the cable snaps tight he releases his winch hook severing his connection with the aircraft standing on that platform is like standing on a bucking bronco back and forth side to side the lifeboat seems determined to throw him into the water

Inside the cabin, it's a grim scene. And then I leaned in to these really sad, sullen faces of the crew that were absolutely shoehorned in there in their survival suits. And there was probably two or three foot of a mixture of water, vomit, diesel. The smell was absolutely breathtaking. So I could see why they were all pretty miserable and they're just continually being sick.

and they're all just squeezed in there. Many of the crew seem to have given up. They're obviously in shock and by the looks of it, severely dehydrated. Jay tries to chivvy them along, but they don't seem to understand what he's saying. His schoolboy French isn't getting him far. Because it was French registered, we were told, and I just said, "Bonjour! Ça va?" Like really trying to be uplifting. And nobody spoke to me. Nobody spoke to me and they didn't converse in English. And I was like, "Oh, great."

Talking to the men is not just a question of putting them at ease. They have a part to play in their own rescue, to follow Jay's instructions. Understanding him or not understanding him could be the difference between life and death. Jay gets straight to work. He mentally triages the crew, identifying the weakest, the ones he has to rescue first. Back out on the platform, trying to communicate with the helicopter, he realizes his radio is waterlocked. It's the last thing he needs.

I've got to get them out and I thought, how do I convey that to the aircraft without any communications? Jay will have to rely on hand signals again and somehow flailing his limbs through the spray and the bluster, he manages to make himself understood. They sent me down the high line, which I got. Then comes the winch hook and I was saying two times rescue strops. So they sent the rescue strops and they put weighted bags as well on the bottom of the winch wire to stop it getting blown around so much.

Oh my god, it was a mission. It was an absolute mission. It would go down to the wave height and I ended up pulling these weighted bags of windship two-strops that were like sea anchors through the water because the aircraft was obviously hovering just away from us. And that in itself was absolutely knackering and I thought I can't do this.

hauling the weighty rescue line into the vessel. It quickly becomes obvious that Jay isn't going to be able to rescue two men at a time. Not with the two heavy strops, and not with the bulky immersion suits the crew are wearing. So I took one of the strops off and I realized I'm going to have to do one at a time. One at a time in a race against time. The helicopter can't stay in the air forever, and there are other limitations too.

There's only firstly so much time they've got before they have to go off task and refuel. And there's only so many seats we can give these people. An already tough mission is growing tougher by the second. But Jay has to just take things step by step. He beckons the first sailor out onto the platform. With a firm nudge, he has the man kneel down so that he can fasten the harness around his body. And it's now that the language barrier becomes a real obstacle.

Something absolutely imperative has to be communicated to the sailor, or this rescue could go very wrong. Arms down by your side. Must have your arms down by your side, because otherwise they could slip out. And I'm not going with them, because just this would take forever. Jay mimes, keeping his own arms in place at the sides of his body, and hopes for the best. The first man rises slowly into the air, and thankfully keeps his arms down as instructed.

So that was quite emotional and that was just number one. Jay watches the man all the way up to the helicopter hatch before finally he sees him pulled to safety inside the Sea King. One down, or rather up. 25 to go.

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Intelligent four-wheel drive cannot prevent collisions or provide enhanced traction in all conditions. Always monitor traffic and weather conditions. Towing capacity varies by configuration. See Nissan Towing Guide and Owner's Manual for additional information. Always secure cargo. Learn more at NissanUSA.com. The little orange lifeboat, overstuffed with sick and distressed men, continues to bounce through the tempest. Jay's work has barely begun, but one by one, he barks at the sailors, instructing them to join him out on the deck.

Each time he has to tap the men on the back of their knees, forcing them to kneel down on the platform so he can get the harness on. Eventually they see what's expected of them and the process gets a little more efficient. Before too long he's got six or seven of the men safely inside Rescue 194. The storm shows no sign of abating. The life raft's really starting to move all over the place even more than it was before.

The boat's obviously going up and down these huge waves, the aircraft's climbing and descending, and the winch operator has to pay in cable and give you cable. So there's all these moving parts all happening at the same time in horrendous conditions. Suddenly, the lifeboat plummets. The winch operator compensates by paying out more cable. But then a 50-foot wave shoots the boat up, simultaneously spinning it round. The loose cable becomes tangled around the rails on the roof of the boat.

This freak combination of factors threatens to turn an emergency into a disaster. So not only is that the lifeline, but it's my lifeline as well. And the Seaking only had one winch. He quickly weighs up his options. He has to get on top of the lifeboat and free the cable. So in 50, 60 foot waves, I'm now climbing on top of this life raft. And I suddenly felt extremely nervous.

open to the environment. It's more than normal because now I'm on top of this cork in the ocean trying to get the winch wire free. It's now leaning so bad that I've got my feet down on the other guardrail on the other side of it as I'm trying to free the top guardrail with a winch wire in my left hand and the wave built and the wave built and the wave built and we kept going up, up, up this wave and I'm clinging on for dear life.

The lifeboat is riding on the side of the wave, tilted over almost 90 degrees. All his years of experience, the months of rigorous training, it's of little help right now. I'm suddenly looking straight down this 50-foot wave and I thought, this game over. I just had a moment, a split-second thought that this scenario was impossible. It was impossible to win, it was impossible to get over because it felt like a near-death moment.

Even if he survives this, without that lifeline, the rescue operation will end in failure. And then, at his lowest moment, when all seems lost, a minor miracle seems to occur. You know, I wasn't thinking about anything else but the rescue mission. You don't. But in that split second, I thought, I'm toast. And then I had this moment where we weren't, and somebody was helping me out.

And to this day I can't explain how a life raft like that with the weight that was in it and me on the top and I was looking vertically down this wave and it stuck to a wave somehow side on 50, 60 foot up in the air and the next minute it flipped on the crest of the wave and I was leaning the other way and I'd freed the cable. Somehow the lifeboat has defied gravity and the line has been extricated. The rescue is back on. Jay scrambles back down onto the platform.

What's happened seems to undermine all logic. It's like someone has intervened to save him. It's a weird experience because I'd not long lost my dad in 2006, in May, which is, you know, is awful for anybody. And I don't know if I'd really dealt with it because I was just so busy. And anyway, it was some time after and, you know, obviously we're in the January following. And then it just felt like there was somebody, something, dad, helping me.

With the line freed, Jay barely misses a beat and gets back to his mission. Another guy, harness on, arms by the side, go, go, go, and repeat. Eventually, half the Napoli crew are inside Rescue 194. The co-pilot signals that they have to head back to base. They're low on fuel, and if they take on any more weight, they won't make it. I'm still on the life raft. I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm tired. It's been going on for some time now, and we've got to start all over again. So Rescue 193 comes in.

This is the helicopter whose commander turned Jay away earlier. But all that's forgotten now. There are more important things to worry about. They had extra fuel. They came in and they hovered. They gave me a high line. That went well. And the life raft is now bouncing because it's only got 12 plus me in it. And the storm's not giving up. No weather's not giving up. If anything, it's getting worse. Jay keeps going. But as the rescue mission progresses, yet another somewhat unexpected issue develops.

As the rescue boat got lighter, it got more skittish. It was getting thrown about even more than it was before. So it's squirming left to right and being flipped on the waves even more. At some point, I got the winch hook straight in the middle of the forehead, which apparently was bleeding. It was bleeding when I got back. Jay shakes off the blow to the head. He's nearly there now. Just a few more men to go.

But then a sailor steps forward who presents a problem, a big problem. And then we get to some six foot seven, I'm going to say giant of a man who had a duffel bag in his hand. I get it. It's got all his worldly belongings. It's probably got photos, letters, tech. I don't know that he was adamant it was going with him. And I said no. And then he looked really angry.

With communication breaking down and no time to lose, Jay takes a big swing, literally. I had to punch him in the arm to release his duffel bag and then at the same point and hoping I wasn't going to get a punch in the face, get a rescue strop on him and get him outside. Despite Jay's fears, the big man doesn't hit back. But as he continues to wrestle with him, trying to get him onto his knees so he can fit the harness, what happens next is far worse than a punch in the face.

And then the boat pitched and rolled dramatically and he went over the side and I'm holding on to him and I'm not attached to the boat or anything. And he's now at the side of the boat in the water and he's in this rescue strop and I'm holding his weight up thinking this is the hardest job of my life now because he's got some real weight. And of course, as the boat pitch, you get like twice or three times the force of gravity. And it took all of my energy

to wait my turn, hold on to him, keep his head above water, keep the rescue hoist clear of entanglements and then at that right moment get him light, get the boat pitching and pull him back onto the platform. He was looking even less happy by then. Wet, shivering and dumbfounded, the giant sailor is finally secured and lifted into the helicopter. There are only a handful of men left but that last rescue has left Jay totally drained. Oh my god, I was so tired.

But you're just running off adrenaline. You're literally surviving this storm on this ridiculous skittish lifeboat with these survivors. And you're the help. You're the rescue. So you just plow on. And I thought, you've just got to keep going until the point where they just call it off and they say no. The question is, when will that happen? When will Jay's team call it a day? And will he have to leave anyone behind? Jay looks up through the swirling sea mist as the 23rd survivor is winched to safety.

The helicopter above is packed with trembling men. He sees one of the aircrew on rescue 193 hold up 10 fingers, which means Jay has 10 minutes to get the remaining sailors and himself up into the helicopter. It's going to be tight. Rescue 193 was desperately short of fuel and they're flagging to me, "10 minutes, 10 minutes!" And I've got two or three people left and I'm starting to break it thinking, "I'm staying on this thing. I hope somebody's coming back for me." Jay steps up the pace.

and somehow races through the last few men. It's a blur of shouts and crashes and straps and lines, all as the helicopter's fuel reserves rapidly dwindle. At last, crumbling with exhaustion, Jay looks up as the final man is unbuckled from the line. Will the hook come back down for him? Or will 193 be forced to leave him behind? Thankfully, the cable starts to descend. Jay's muscles are on fire as he pulls on the line for one last time.

He knows 193 must have gone over the 10-minute cutoff point by now. The aircraft is running on empty, but it's clear they're not going to leave him there. Finally, the hook reaches him. He fastens it to his own harness. He gives the thumbs up and feels the cable tighten as the winch starts to haul him in. With his last vestiges of energy, Jay gets a handhold on the helicopter's rail. He pulls himself inside as quickly as he can so the pilot can get going without any further delay.

Jay squeezes himself into a space near the door and looks around the crowded chopper. One of the rescued sailors reaches out to shake his hand and thank him. Others follow suit. We just looked around and we all smiled and I was like, whew, that was a good chop. Wow. And that's the realisation is then, oh, thank God for that. That's actually gone really well in something that could have so easily gone really, really badly, really quickly as they do. And then you get a sense of relief.

The moment is made stranger by the fact that Jay's now inside the helicopter that didn't want him earlier. And I was with the crew that told me to get out and get my kit out of him. And everybody kind of looked and just nodded and said, yeah, good job, well done. With its fuel gauge virtually on empty, Rescue 193 darts through the sky, somehow making it back to the casualty reception area in Kaldros just in time. And I walked them in, I wanted to walk them in,

It just felt natural to walk them because we always look after people coming in and out of the aircraft that's rotors running for safety. I took them in and there was a whole host of Navy people there, you know, all of our friends and colleagues that were getting them warm, giving them telephones, food, water, soup, all of that good stuff, you know. Job done. With the crewman being cared for, Jade takes himself away. He carries his dive bag back to the base. Remarkably, he immediately starts prepping for his next shift.

It was the weirdest thing because I came in and just, that's done now. It's behind me. Just get in the squadron, get all the kit ready, get everything squared away, go and get the mop and bucket, you know, back to normality. And I'm walking in with my dive bag over my back, I think, and in my wetsuit, squidgy feet, bit chilly, starting to warm up. And the air station was quite quiet and everyone was on the balcony and they clapped me in.

I thought they were taking the mickey. I was like, what? I was like, get off. The applause is sincere. While Jay was down on the lifeboat, single-handedly battling the elements to get 26 men to safety, a fellow crewman was filming it all from the hovering sea king. The camera has been linked up to the base television to show the footage.

And so everybody was hooked to that, to see the events unfold. And they were like, oh my God, that was big. That was really rough. And they clapped me in, which, you know, that was amazing. That was a good feeling. It starts to become clear that Jay has done something special and others think so too. The media entourage was at Cold Rose waiting for interviews. The boss was like, Jay, everybody wants you for an interview.

But before he faces the media circus, he needs a moment to gather his thoughts, to fully take in what he has endured and accomplished today. I'm like, seriously, I've been out all day. I'm absolutely soaking and I just need a shower and a change. When he's ready, Jay goes to the hangar where the reporters are gathered and gives a string of interviews. It's 9pm before he gets home.

As he pulls up onto the drive, he remembers that he never got round to calling his wife Louise to tell her that he was working an extra shift that day. Fortunately, she'd already found out from another source. It's the evening news, six o'clock news. My wife's mother is on the phone to her going, "Have you seen the TV? Turn on the news, turn on the news." And that's when my wife realized where I'd been all day when I was supposed to be home at nine in the morning.

A few months later, Jay travels to Buckingham Palace to receive the Queen's Gallantry Medal. After that, there are further awards, both for Jay and the crews of Rescue 193 and 194. Eventually it all truly sinks in, but he acknowledges he didn't do it on his own. It's a huge team effort, every part of it. Just because I was the guy on the wire, the guy on the lifeboat, that's kind of my training, that was my choice. And yeah, it was nice to be recognised afterwards as well, but

Everybody from, you know, the air station goes above and beyond. The air traffickers give you priority and everything you could want. The engineers get the whole squadron up and ready. They've already got your aircraft service board ready to go 24-7. Everybody in the rest of Coldrose that then got involved with warming people and feeding them. It was just an amazing, amazing effort all around. Eighty lives were lost during Cyclone Kirill.

If it hadn't been for Jay, the death toll would have been 106. He says that from time to time he wonders how he got through it, reflecting on the sheer toughness that mission required. It was having the mental resilience, having the physical resilience. I was always really fit and trained hard and that helps your mental health. I'm a massive firm believer in that. It's not wanting to let people down. Your crew, the people on that boat,

Always do your best. Always work hard. Don't give up. If you need to work harder, work harder, no matter how you feel about it. And really, you then can apply that to the whole of your life. Everyone is ups and downs, isn't it? That's life. But yeah, never give up. Just soldier on and keep going. And I think if you're kind to people, you always try to help, eventually it will come good for you. Next time on Real Survival Stories. What happens when hundreds of millions of electrical volts strike the human body?

we meet a man who knows. Slovakian Andrej Oregvani is a lover of the great outdoors. In July 2012, weeks before the birth of his second baby, Andrej and two friends head to the western Tatra Mountains to enjoy three peaceful days of backpacking. But the weather has other plans for their trip, and suddenly they find themselves stranded atop a precarious peak during a violent thunderstorm.

It's only a matter of time before lightning strikes, and the friends will bear the full force of one of the greatest powers in nature. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa Plus.