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But hopelessness could defeat even the strongest soldier.
So Ethan refused to let hopeless thoughts stay in his mind.
He counted breaths.
Repeated survival procedures.
Mentally rehearsed happy memories.
Anything to stay focused.
By the second morning, another danger appeared.
Snow began falling heavily.
Within hours, visibility dropped dramatically.
That could help hide him.
It could also bury him.
He realized he couldn’t remain inside the crevice forever.
Soon he would have to move.
But moving meant exposing himself.
As daylight faded again, he heard something different.
Not voices.
A helicopter.
The sound was faint at first.
Then louder.
He peeked through the narrow opening.
A military rescue helicopter circled the valley far above.
It couldn’t see him.
Cloud cover kept forcing it away.
Then it disappeared.
His heart sank.
Night arrived once more.
He wondered if anyone still believed he was alive.
Then he remembered something from survival training.
Aircraft often return at first light because shadows make movement easier to spot.
He had one opportunity.
Using pieces of shiny metal he had collected from the crash, Ethan carefully arranged them outside the crevice in the shape of a large arrow pointing toward his location.
He waited.
Morning finally came.
The helicopter returned.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Still nothing.
Then, as sunlight broke through the clouds, the metal reflected brightly.
The helicopter suddenly banked sharply.
It circled again.
This time lower.
Ethan pulled out the mirror one final time.
He reflected sunlight directly toward the aircraft.
The flash lasted only seconds.
But it was enough.
The helicopter hovered.
A rescue crew member leaned out the open door.
Moments later, Ethan heard the sweetest sound imaginable.
“They’ve spotted someone!”
Within minutes, a rescue specialist descended by cable.
As the rescuer reached the narrow ledge, he smiled.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”