A Life Wasted

Hiding in the Swamp

The channel ran deep into the swamp, so I swam down it as long as I could. When I was too exhausted to swim any further I pulled myself out of the water onto a game trail. I didn't know for sure what sort of animal made the trail, but given it's size I didn't want to meet the thing. Covering my tracks so they couldn't be seen from the water was difficult and time consuming, but a necessary investment. At this point they didn't have a trail to follow and it was critical I didn't give them a fresh one. It would be impossible to eliminate all signs of my passing, especially in the thick mud, but I had to eliminate tracks at places they were likely to see. Sherriff's Deputies would soon be searching by boat. If they noticed were I left the water they could refocus their search to that point, which would be a disaster since anyone could follow my trail in the mud.

The game trail I crawled down was black mud. The soil of the swamp. The mud itself was thick and gooey. It had the consistency of peanut butter. It was deep enough to swallow me whole were I to stand and focus my weight. The first thing I did after leaving the water was to cover my body with the mud. Not for camouflage, which it was good for, but for the limited protection it offered from the persistent mosquitoes. With my head slightly above the saw grass I could see the tree tops on both sides of the swamp, giving an indication of my location. I had crossed a quarter of the distance to the opposite woods. Originally I had thought to cross to the other side but changed my mind after experience with the swamp. One reason was dehydration. I would have called this a saltwater swamp as its waterways connected to the ocean at some point because it was subject to tidal influence. Closer to the ocean the water would have a high enough salinity to support sharks, crabs, and other saltwater inhabitants. However, this swamp was so far from the ocean that the water had a weak salinity and far fewer ocean inhabitants. It was possible to see a shark here, but not likely. Here I was more likely to run into alligators and fresh water snakes. I feared the trail I followed belonged to a gator, which I tried not to think about. Snake were a likely problem as I had already spotted their sign. Also a troublesome thought as I lacked anything to push a snake away, not even shoes. But so far the only predator that had troubled me were mosquitoes. It turned out they would be the most dangerous critter in the swamp.

In the few hours of daylight that remained I heard numerous small boats moving slowly through the water. Occasionally I heard dogs in those boats, but I doubt my scent was detectable from the rank smell of decay that permeated the swamp. I doubted anyone would get out of the boats to search in the mud and saw grass. If they did the swamp was so vast that the odds of finding me were thin. With this in mind I decided to lay still, wait and rest. Wait for dark when anyone with half a brain would leave the swamp and go home.

Not long after I made this decision I heard a helicopter. Just one, but it was a good one. A helicopter with a crew well trained in finding needles in a haystack. I knew because I'd had the same training. A Coast Guard search and rescue helicopter. Only they weren't going to rescue me, they were going to get me killed. I wondered how they legally justified searching for me. In boot camp we were told the Coast Guard wasn't allowed to assist civilian authorities in criminal matters. The authorities must have told the Coast Guard they tracked me to the water then lost my trail. The Coast Guard had been called in under the pretense that I needed rescue because I was in the water.

I still loved the SAR mission of the Coast Guard, so it was with a deal of unit pride that I watched the helicopter fly a tight grid pattern. In a few more passes they'd be directly over me. If I had trees or bushes for cover I would move to a spot in the grid they'd already searched, but there was no cover and I couldn't move fast enough in the mud so I had no choice but to lay still and hope the mud camouflage would hide me. When the helicopter approached on a course to fly directly over I closed my eyes. I'd already coated my eyelids with mud, so the only white remaining were my eyes. Another reason I closed my eyes was something Bob Schrader taught me back in seventh grade. Most people can feel when they're being watched. I didn't want to draw the spotter's attention with some sixth sense he didn't understand.