When Heroism Beckons, Ctd

A reader shares a story with a much different ending than the previous one:

I’ve been a long time reader of the Dish, but this is the first time I’ve emailed you. When I was about 16 years old, my family and I took a vacation down to the Texas coast.  I was fishing on the end of a jetty with my father, when we saw a younger kid bobbing in the waves about 20 yards out.  The jetties are extremely dangerous to swim around and he was waving his arms, so it was immediately obvious that he was in trouble and drowning.  As soon as we registered the severity of what was happening, we both ran to the end of the jetty and climbed down into the water. 

However, the surf was incredibly rough that day, and each time we would shove off, a wave would smash us back into the rocks.  These jetties are made of giant boulders of granite, and are covered in razor sharp barnacles.  Our feet and hands were covered in deep cuts from these rocks and we were both bleeding heavily – we watched in desperation as the kid bobbed up and down, taking longer and longer to come back up until eventually he disappeared beneath the waves.

We climbed out and walked to the shore, only to see his mother, who had witnessed the entire thing, in hysterics.  The lifeguard showed up a few minutes later, and all night long from the hotel you could hear the helicopter going up and down the beach searching for the body (which was found a few miles away the next morning).  It was one of the most awful experiences of my life for many reasons, though I would not hesitate to do this again, even if it meant trying and failing.

Thanks for letting me share.

To read all of the stories in this thread, go here.