It Was His First Rescue Flight—Yet He Managed to Save 165 Lives on Day One
At just 27 years old, Lt. Jackson Reid had trained his whole adult life for moments like this—but no one, not even his commanders, expected what happened on his very first rescue mission. It began as a routine emergency deployment to a flooded village in southern Louisiana. By the end of that sweltering August day, Lt. Reid would be credited with saving 165 lives in what is now being called “one of the most remarkable first missions in Air National Guard history.”
A Sudden Disaster
It started with the rain.
Days of relentless downpours had overwhelmed the Mississippi Delta, and by August 3, water was swallowing everything—fields, towns, and roads. The small community of Harrow’s Bend, nestled between two rivers, had become a bowl of rising water. Cell towers had gone down. Roads were submerged. Families were trapped in attics. The local fire department was overwhelmed.
The state issued an urgent call for air support.
Lt. Jackson Reid, freshly assigned to the 159th Airlift Wing based out of Belle Chasse, Louisiana, was already on standby. This was supposed to be his observation mission—he’d sit co-pilot, shadow the commander, maybe direct a hoist or two. But fate had other plans.
The Call That Changed Everything
At 6:12 a.m., the pilot originally scheduled for the mission was sidelined by a sudden medical emergency. With the clock ticking and no senior officer available, the commanding officer turned to Reid.
“You’re up,” he said simply.
Reid’s pulse pounded. He had never flown a full rescue under real crisis conditions. He had drilled. He had trained. He had studied every manual and scenario. But this? This was real.
He nodded, masked his nerves with a sharp breath, and boarded the HH-60 Pave Hawk.
The Flight Begins
From the moment the rotor blades sliced through the Louisiana sky, Reid and his team were operating in chaos. Winds buffeted the chopper. Radio channels buzzed with overlapping distress calls. Below them, what used to be streets were now rivers, rooftops barely visible above the current.
By 7:04 a.m., they reached Harrow’s Bend.
It was worse than they thought.
Entire neighborhoods were underwater. Families had spray-painted SOS signals on rooftops. People waved white towels from second-story windows. Dozens were stranded on rooftops—elderly residents, children, even newborns.
Reid knew immediately: one flight wouldn’t be enough.
Improvising Under Pressure
Instead of a standard two-rotation mission, Reid coordinated with the on-ground National Guard units to create a continuous loop of evacuation. His team would pick up as many people as possible—up to 12 per load—drop them off on a makeshift landing zone on a school football field 8 miles away, and return for the next wave.
Again and again.
He piloted the chopper in near-zero visibility at times, navigating submerged power lines, falling debris, and unpredictable air currents caused by hot water and low pressure. He had to land the Pave Hawk on rooftops no wider than a shed. He executed precision hoists between trees, lifted wheelchair-bound elders through third-story windows, and calmed panicking children mid-air.
All the while, the storm clouds never fully cleared.
By midday, word of his daring precision spread across radio channels. Other pilots adjusted their flight paths around his operation. Paramedics prepped the landing field, timing Reid’s drops down to the second.
And then came the daycare.
The Daycare Dilemma
At 2:45 p.m., Reid was alerted to a building where 23 toddlers were trapped with two caregivers—no power, no supplies, and rapidly rising water.
The building was old, the roof too unstable to land on. Lowering a hoist through narrow beams was risky. But waiting for another team wasn’t an option—the children had less than an hour before the water would reach the ceiling.
Reid circled three times, mapping the space from every angle. Then he made a split-second decision: he would hover at an angle above a broken window. The flight engineer would descend through the frame, strap the children into a rescue basket one at a time, and hoist them back up.
It took 40 minutes. But every child was saved.
Reid’s hands trembled on the controls. Not from fear. From focus.
The Final Lift
His final run came just before dusk. Reports came in that a nursing home had been missed—17 residents and 2 staff remained. Most were immobile. The floodwater had reached waist height.
Fuel was low. His team was exhausted. But Reid made the call to go.
Hovering just inches above the waterline, the rescue crew lifted every single person to safety. The last hoist brought up an 89-year-old woman who clutched her Bible the entire time.
She looked at Reid through the window, mouthed “thank you,” and closed her eyes.
Mission Complete
By the time Reid landed for the last time, the sun was gone. The field, once chaotic with helicopters and first responders, now sat in silence. Ambulances had come and gone. Families had reunited. Emergency lights blinked against the night.
165 people had been rescued by Lt. Jackson Reid and his crew in a single day.
Not a single life was lost under his watch.
The Aftermath
Word of the mission spread quickly. News stations picked up the story. The governor of Louisiana called Reid personally to thank him. Within 24 hours, his name was trending on social media. People from all over the country sent messages of gratitude and awe.
But Reid wasn’t interested in fame.
“I was just doing my job,” he said at a press conference. “The training kicked in. The team was unbelievable. And those people—they never gave up. I just wanted to get them home.”
His words were humble. But his actions were extraordinary.
Recognition and Legacy
In the weeks that followed, Reid received commendations from the Air National Guard, FEMA, and the Department of Homeland Security. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross—one of the highest honors a pilot can receive.
But more than that, he earned something deeper: the unshakable respect of those whose lives he touched.
One of the children from the daycare, 4-year-old Myla, now calls her teddy bear “Captain Reid.” The nursing home named a wing after him. The town of Harrow’s Bend installed a plaque that reads:
“To Lt. Jackson Reid—who came from the sky and brought us hope.”
A Hero Born in the Skies
For Lt. Reid, that day marked the beginning of a career that would likely be filled with further missions, challenges, and calls to courage. But no matter what the future holds, his first flight will remain legendary.
Because sometimes, the right person shows up at the right time.
Sometimes, the storm makes a hero.
And sometimes, a rookie pilot saves 165 lives—before the sun even sets.
