Connecticut Farmington River Flood of 1955 | The Nightmare That Was True
At last it did. At 1:30 P.M., a Navy helicopter hovered over our house, coming in as close as the trees would allow. A voice shouted, “We’re going to throw you a line. Grab it and step into the seat belt. Get a tight hold, and we’ll pull you up. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
With a splash, the thing which was to pull us to safety hit the water just outside the porch railing. I fished it out, helped my mother into it, tugged on the line after she was straddling the railing, and up she went.
Minutes later the sling was dropped again. Stepping into the canvas belt that served as a seat, I, too straddled the railing. I gripped the small wheel-like disc, and tugged on the line. Straight up over the house and treetops, I swung. Soon they had reeled me up to the open door of the craft. A hand reached out and grasped mine. It was over.