< 58 >

As we rounded the next turn in the bayou Radio yelled out "There's one Dad!" I took aim and threw the crowbar as hard as I could. The effort capsized us and I almost lost my grip when the pack jerked on the end of the taught nylon cord. The water slammed us against the sidesandwiching Radio between the concrete embankment and John and me. It knocked the breath out of him and he lost his hold on the backpack. I threw out my arm and grabbed him by the collar, almost losing my own grip.


I had my arm around Big John's body but I couldn't get a good grip with only one hand. The water was tearing at me, slowly pulling me along with Radio's dead weight downstream. I could tell I was choking Radio with my hold on his shirt. His hands were tearing at his throat.

"Grab my hand Radio!" I yelled in desperation. He reached up and clasped my arm. His hold was solid enough for me to let go of his collar. Gulping air and enough of the dirty water to set off a bout of choking and coughing, he paddled in panic with his free arm, trying to keep his face out of the water.

"Relax son...relax! You're breaking my hold on John!" I was getting real scared. During Radio's struggle I had slipped almost halfway down John's body. I was holding onto his belt but my strength was fading fast. I didn't think I could haul Radio back in against that endless, dark rush of water. I knew if I had to let go and Radio and I had to make it without the bouyancy of the pack, we would eventually drown.