24October2025 Diary
It all began with a brief post on the local community feed a photo of a man with the caption Missing in the woods, need help. I stared at the screen for a long moment, as if waiting for some internal signal to fire. Im fortyeight, settled in a steady job, my son lives in Manchester and Ive always kept my distance from other peoples misfortunes. Yet that evening something tugged at me; the anxiety felt personal, as though a relative were in trouble. I decided to act, clicked the link and messaged the coordinator of the volunteer search team, PoppyAlert.
The reply was swift: courteous, with clear instructions. In the newcomers group they outlined the plan meet at the edge of the hamlet of Bishops Wood at 1900, bring a torch, water, food and warm clothing. Safety briefing first and foremost. I packed my rucksack meticulously: an old thermos of tea, a firstaid kit, spare socks. A slight tremor ran through my fingers; its odd to feel part of something larger than yourself.
The house fell quiet: the television off, the kitchen smelling of freshly baked bread. My phone buzzed the coordinator reminding me of the gathering time. I wondered why I was going. Was it to test my limits, to prove something to my son, or simply because I couldnt stand by? No answer came.
It was already dusk when I pulled onto the A1. Cars roared past, taking their owners worries away. The evening chill nipped at the collar of my jacket. The volunteers assembled in a restrained line some twenty years younger than me, some a few years older. Clare, the coordinator with a sharp bob, gave a brief briefing: stay with the group, keep the radio on, stick together. I nodded along with the rest.
We set off toward the woods along a low stone wall. In the twilight the trees grew taller and denser; the edge of the village was already alive with birdsong and the rustle of leaves underfoot. Our torches cut swaths of light through damp grass and the occasional puddle left by the afternoon rain. I kept myself in the middle of the column neither at the front nor the rear.
Inside, tension rose with each step into darkness, each new threshold of fear. The forest made its own sounds branches drumming against each other in the wind, a twig snapping somewhere to my right. Someone muttered a joke about training for a marathon. I stayed silent, listening to my own breath, noticing fatigue setting in faster than my eyes adjusted to the gloom.
Every time Clare halted the group to check the radio, my heart pounded harder. I feared missing a signal or losing my way through a lapse in concentration. Yet we followed the protocol: short radio commands, rollcall, a quick discussion of the route one volunteer suggesting we skirt the lowlying mire on the right.
After about an hour we were so deep that the village lights vanished behind the trunks. Our torches illuminated only a small circle around our boots; beyond that lay an unbroken wall of shadow. My back sweated under the load, my boots soaked the damp grass.
Suddenly Clare raised her hand everyone froze. In the hush a soft voice called out:
Is anyone there?
The torches swung toward a thicket where someone crouched. I stepped forward with two other volunteers.
A frail elderly man emerged into the beam thin, grey at the temples, hands stained with soil. His eyes darted wildly, fear evident.
Are you Mr. Ian Thompson? Clare asked quietly.
He shook his head.
No Im John I got lost earlier today my ankle hurts I cant walk
A brief pause fell over the group. Wed been searching for a missing hiker and had found a stranger instead. Clare radioed back immediately:
Found an elderly male, not our target. Require evacuation with stretcher at current coordinates.
While she confirmed details with headquarters, I knelt beside John, pulled a spare blanket from my pack and draped it over his shoulders.
Been out here long? I whispered.
Since morning I was out for mushrooms lost the trail and now my foot.
His voice carried both exhaustion and relief.
The mission shifted in an instant from seeking to rescuing someone we never expected. We examined Johns ankle; it was swollen at the ankle and he clearly could not stand. Clare instructed everyone to stay put until the main stretcher team arrived.
Time crept by. Dusk gave way to night. My phone showed a single bar of signal; the radio sputtered, the battery draining faster in the cold. Soon the radio went dead. Clare tried again to call headquarters no answer. By protocol we were to remain at the spot and flash our torches every five minutes.
For the first time I was alone with fear. The forest grew thicker, louder; every shadow seemed a threat. Yet John shivered under the blanket, murmuring to himself. The other volunteers formed a semicircle, shared the remaining tea from my thermos, offered him a sandwich from our rations. His hands trembled more from cold than from age.
Never thought someone would find me thank you, he rasped.
I watched him quietly; inside something shifted terror gave way to a solid calm. My responsibility now extended beyond myself; simply staying beside him mattered more than any instruction or dread.
Wind gusts carried the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves; a distant owl hooted, stretching the night even further. We sat until time lost its meaning. John spoke of his childhood during the war, his late wife, a son who rarely visited. In that conversation I found more trust and life than in many of my own recent encounters.
The radios faint red glow flickered uselessly. I checked my phone again nothing. I knew one thing: I could not leave.
At first light, a thin beam from a torch cut through the mist between trees. Two figures in yellow safety vests emerged, followed by a small team with stretchers. Clare called my name, relief evident in her voice. The volunteers quickly assessed Johns condition, strapped a splint to his ankle and lifted him onto a stretcher. I helped, feeling my arms work hard yet strangely light the burden was now shared. A young man gave me a wink, as if to say, Weve got this.
Clare reported that contact with headquarters had been restored half an hour earlier; the base had dispatched two teams one to us, another northward on fresh tracks of the missing hiker. She broadcast:
Team Twelve, elderly male found, stable, ready for evacuation, returning now. A crackle, then a clear voice: Primary target located by another crew, alive and on foot. All units stand down.
John clutched my hand tightly as the stretcher was lifted, his voice barely audible: Thank you
I met his gaze and, for the first time that night, felt I was part of something vital, not a passing bystander.
The walk back was longer than it had seemed in the darkness. We rotated carrying the stretcher the younger volunteers first, then I took the handle, feeling the damp grass sway beneath us and the cold air bite my face. Birds began to sing, a thrush flitted overhead. Each step returned my body to its familiar fatigue, but my mind stayed unusually calm.
At the forest edge, the dawn greeted us with lowlying mist. Volunteers chatted lowly, joking about nighttime fitness. Clare stayed near the front, checking her radio and marking the exit point for the base. I stayed beside John until the ambulance arrived, ensuring the blanket stayed in place.
When the ambulance doors closed behind John, Clare thanked each of us in turn. She squeezed my hand a little tighter than the others:
Youve done more today than you imagined this morning.
Her eyes lingered on me; I didnt look away. Inside, a shift had occurred the line between my own worries and others seemed thinner.
On the road back to the village the ground was slick with dew, my boots squelched in the grass. Pink streaks of sunrise split the grey sky over the rooftops. The air felt heavier with moisture, yet my steps grew more confident.
The village was still sleepy; shop windows were dark, a few silhouettes passed the corner store. I paused at my gate, dropped the rucksack, leaned against the fence for a moment. A slight shiver ran through me, not from cold but from the nights intensity, yet it no longer felt like weakness.
My phone buzzed a new message from Clare: Thanks for the night. Below it, another: Can we count on you if needed again? I replied briefly: Yes, of course.
I reflected: decisions that once seemed distant now felt within reach. Exhaustion no longer clouded my clarity; I knew I could take another step forward when called upon.
I raised my eyes as the sunrise spread wider, bathing the trees and rooftops in a rosy glow. In that instant I realised that being present, taking action, gave my life a purpose I had been missing. I am no longer a mere observer.
Lesson: When you choose to stand beside someone in need, you discover a strength that outlasts the fear driving you there.
