“DAD! I’m down here,” Ford yelled, then crouched down next to Wu. Ford was dripping water all over Wu, and Ford moved his hand to clean his face. He lightly slapped Wu’s face to get him to revive. “Wu. Wu. I’m here, buddy. Come back.” There was no response.
The raft party was down the river, at least 2 minutes ahead, and there was no way they could paddle back to meet them. This meant Ford had to administer CPR to Wu alone.
“Come on Wu, come back to me,” Ford told him. Ford cleared his mouth of any debris with his fingers. Nothing was there. He tilted Wu’s head back and pinched his nose. It was just like the instructor from his old Boy Scout days taught him to do it. One breath, and another. Ford looked at his chest to rise. Another two breaths. Again, Ford checked his chest. No sign of breathing. Ford sighed and wanted Wu to breathe with every ounce of his fiber.
Just was Ford was getting ready to start chest compressions, Wu began breathing normally. Wu spit up a few ounces of river water, and Ford helped him turn to his side to cough some more. “Come on, Wu,” Ford encouraged him. “Come on!”
Ford looked up river and could see the others getting out of the rafts on the shore. Mr. Stevens was running down the shoreline and through river wood, tall grass and large stones.
“Ohhh. What happened, Ford? My head,” Wu moaned. The blood was still coming out from just above his eye. Ford was able to put his hand on it to help stop the bleeding, but it was running out of his fingers.
“Ford, I’m here,” Mr. Stevens said, opening up a first aid kit from the raft company.
“Wu, you fell out. Or jumped out… out of the raft. Back there in the rapids. You were underwater for a while, then dinged your head on a river rock, I guess,” explained Ford.
“Let me see him, Ford,” Mr. Stevens asked upon arrival, moving Ford’s hand out of the way so that he could place a clean bandage on Wu’s head. He grabbed a gauze wrapper, one that had Colored Surgical Sponge written on the wrapper, and quickly placed it on Wu’s wound.
Xi and the rest of the Stevens family ran up to them and looked at Wu on the ground. Marion bent down to hug Ford, then kneeled down to help attend to Wu. She peeled the medical tape to help fasten the colored gauze to Wu’s head.
“He’s all bloody!” Sam announced, pointing, then quickly shushed by Marion.
“I just called for help on the phone. There is a river access road just through those trees there. We can get him help in about ten minutes,” said Xi, nodding towards the tree line with his head.
Ford switched knees to rest on, and moved his hands back down next to Wu, holding his head. Ford was troubled at the situation, but relieved that he was able to help his friend. Ford knew they averted a tragedy.
“I am so sorry, Stevens’ family. So sorry. I just have never been in the water,” said Wu.
“Wu, we are just happy you are here and alive. Don’t be sorry,” Ford told him.
Wu just looked up at the sky, and blinked slowly. He stared off into the abyss, thinking about what just happened. In his heart, he was forever indebted to Ford. “Jojo rising,” Wu said, barely, with a slight smile, referring to their favorite band The Doors, and their ‘L.A. Woman’ song from the 1971 Elektra album. The original lyrics sung by lead singer Jim Morrison were “mojo rising”, but when Wu first heard the song, he could not make out the words. So he started singing “jojo rising” instead, and it stuck.
“Jojo rising, Wu,” Ford replied.
Their private saying ‘Jojo rising’ meant to them a greater spirit and internal flame that enabled them to do things together and tackle life. It was their special sauce that gave them the determination to accomplish goals. Wu loved the American music video of The Doors’ lead singer Jim Morrison, just cruising and driving around Los Angeles, California in his Mustang, and to Wu, it was classic America. Just driving around, taking in the palm trees and ocean and warm weather, doing what you wanted to do, when you wanted to do it. It was very non-communist, non-China, which was why Wu loved it. Some critics argued Jim Morrison put a sexual connotation to the phrase, but that’s not how Ford and Wu took it at all. It meant boundless, no limits, land of opportunity. Go out in the world and make something happen. It was, to them, simply, jojo rising.
Mr. Stevens removed the saturated surgical sponge since it was full of blood, noticing it was completely red in the center. The outer edges of the sponge had a unique florescent blue and green liquid-proof material attached to it that repelled blood. These outer colors helped health care teams with seeing the sponge. Chad looked at the used one more closely, never seeing it before, and thought how innovative the idea was.
“Marion, this sponge company is from the U.S.? Woulda saved Sheila’s life if her surgeon used it,” Chad said, referring to Marion’s sister. Years ago, Marion’s sister died of infection after a routine hysterectomy procedure when her surgical team left inside her a camouflaged, saturated surgical sponge. He tossed it on the ground, opened another new package, and taped it to Wu’s head.
“Ford,” Wu said softly, turning from looking up to facing Ford. “Ford, I will never forget what you have done for me. You saved….my life”, coughing a bit more. “I could have died back there in the water, and… I owe you.”
Ford let out a small smile and just nodded his head. He then grabbed Wu’s hand with both of his.
“Ford.” Wu said again quietly, squeezing his hand. “Ford, I am grateful, and… and I will never forget your actions. Ever. I owe you. Thank you.”
Part 2 — Smoke and Fire
U.S. Air Force Reserve Captain Ford Stevens, 30-years old, was walking out to the flight line wearing his pilot flight gear and carrying his helmet bag full of supplies for his flight in the B-1B Lancer. His olive colored flight bag consisted of kneeboards, flight manuals, checklists, oxygen mask, snacks, and gloves, among a plethora of other survival gear items. He and three other crew members, all of the U.S. Air Force’s 28th Bomb Wing, just briefed up a simulated mission that included instrument flying, a low-level navigational route, a close air support mission, and air-to-air refueling.
Ford was a unique military officer and pilot, flying as a full-time Air Force Reservist, embedded in an active-duty squadron. President Harry S. Truman signed into law the U.S. Air Force Reserve formation back in 1948, and since then, they have been a key piece of the Air Force team. The Air Force Reserve performed about 20 percent of the Air Force’s missions, which comprised of everything from cyber and space, to cargo and fighter aircraft. Ford began his career in the active component Air Force, and transferred his global flight experience to the Air Force Reserve team a few years later.
“You double check the TOLD?” Ford asked his co-pilot, Captain Tiffany “Pinky” Pinkerton.
TOLD was the take-off and landing data which, when calculated, informed the aircrew of the expected performance of the jet based upon its weight, runway length, and atmospheric conditions. If the runway was short, and it was hot and humid outside, it would fly sluggish and differently than a longer runway in a colder environment. In their cooler South Dakota environment, especially since it was November, their aircraft performance would be above-average.
“Yup, we’re good, Ford,” replied Pinky, holding the white kneeboard sized card that was full of penciled-in numbers and computations. The card was full of lead and erasure marks, and wasn’t pretty, but it showed that she computed the numbers.