SGT. 1ST CLASS MARCELO ACEVEDO
479th Field Artillery Brigade
Fort Hood, Texas
There I was on a chilly Friday evening in December, watching the weather segment on the local 6 o’clock news when Melvin, a teenage hunting and fishing buddy, called. He’d run into Wes, another mutual friend, and asked if I wanted to join them on a duck-hunting excursion. The weekend weather forecast called for fog, possible rain and winds — perfect conditions for duck hunting. I told Melvin, “Count me in.”
When I arrived at the boat launch the next morning, Melvin and Wes were already waiting on me to start our adventure. Without hesitation, I jumped out of the truck and grabbed my gear. I quickly realized how cold the morning was because I had forgotten my jacket. As I loaded my gear into the small aluminum jon boat, we exchanged greetings and they begin to harass me. “Things never change,” they said, referring to my chronic tardiness.
After a slow, cautious, 30-minute boat ride in the dark, we arrived at our destination and set up for our hunt. For the first two hours, everything went well. Then the fog began to lift, clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. We decided it was time to call it a day.
As we picked up the decoys, we noticed the lake’s water level was now lower. It appeared as if the water was being pushed out into the main lake by the wind, which was really whipping. Waves started pounding into side of the boat, filling it with water. Within minutes, the water was up to my ankles and panic was setting in. We knew we had to get off the lake, so we headed toward the closest shore.
Within minutes, the water had reached our calves. Still, never once did any of us consider what could happen next. If we had, we would have put on our personal flotation devices, but no one even mentioned it. Just as the shore came into sight, a large wave struck the boat, causing it to capsize.
My first concern was to keep the water from filling my waders because the extra weight would make it harder for me to reach the surface. As luck would have it, two dozen duck decoys we’d stored in mesh bags were trapped under the boat, keeping it afloat. As we all grasped onto the boat, I spotted a personal flotation device floating nearby, then another. I quickly put on one of them and threw the other to Melvin, who was shivering from the cold. Wes stayed afloat by hanging onto a decoy bag he pulled from beneath the boat.
As we waded in the water, nothing seemed logical. We were stranded in the middle of the lake and any attempt to swim safely to shore seemed impossible because of the rough waters. We clung onto the boat for about 45 minutes when another boat appeared into view. As the boat approached, however, it made a 90 degree turn away from us. Without hesitation, I told Melvin and Wes to steady the boat while I climbed on top, removed my PFD and waved it in the air as we all shouted. Fortunately, it worked and the boat turned back toward us.
The relief that we’d been rescued must have stopped my adrenaline rush because I could feel the crisp December chill through my wet clothes. After safely returning us back to our vehicles, we thanked our rescuer and exchanged contact information, hoping that we could one day return the favor.
Today, I am a boat owner and I always ensure all of my passengers wear a PFD. Also, whenever I plan a water outing, I make sure I let someone know my planned location on the water, to include check-in times. Planning ahead and taking into consideration any environmental changes could have minimized or prevented our close call on the lake. I chose to learn from our mistakes. We’re lucky this lesson learned didn’t cost us our lives.