Photo By Airman 1st Class Demi M. Ebert | U.S. Air Force Senior Airman Peyton Bushnell, 52nd Maintenance Squadron aerospace...... read more read more
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SPANGDAHLEM AIR BASE, Germany - The night was frigid, the wind howled through the trees that lined the narrow country road. Audrey Harris gripped the wheel, her headlights slicing through the darkness when two red lights emerged ahead—swerving wildly.
They veered left, then right, jerking erratically as if searching for control.
Then, in an instant, they vanished.
A sickening crunch tore through the air. Branches snapped and metal twisted. The sound of destruction echoed off the hills around her.
Harris slammed her car into a stop on the shoulder, barely registering the sting of the cold as she flung open the door. Her feet hit the pavement hard, her focus locked on the embankment ahead. Her chest heaved with each breath, the acrid stench of burnt rubber and smoke searing her lungs. At the edge of the embankment, she skidded to a halt. Scanning the environment around her, the smoke filled the air. Her heart was pounding, her eyes traced the steep drop, searching for any sign of life.
Below, lights flickered through the mangled brush and a faint honking drifted up.
Her hands fumbled for her phone, breath hitched as she hit the call button.
“Dude, I need your help,” she blurted to her friend on the other end of the line, Peyton Bushnell.
She barely waited for a response before fearlessly diving down the almost vertical drop.
“I didn’t even question what she said, I just grabbed some things and headed out,” Bushnell said, as he vividly remembers that night. “I knew it was something serious, and that she needed my help”
Living only minutes away, he arrived swiftly and parked behind Harris’ running car. Her headlights illuminating the path, he raced to the edge, spotting the SUV.
As Bushnell headed down the embankment, loose dirt gave way with every hurried step, navigating through uprooted shrubs and splintered branches, questioning how Harris got down there safely.
Reaching the lights, the smell was overpowering as the smoke filled his lungs. Through the darkness, the mangled body of an SUV appeared. Inside the smoke-filled cab, he saw a man slumped over in the driver’s seat, and Harris, who was doing everything she could to help him.
“I knew this was going to be bad, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone,” Harris explained, straightening up in her chair. “He was the first person I thought of. I knew he’d help.”
As Bushnell got closer to the wreckage, a wave of shock went through him.
"He was bleeding from his head, crying, deep in stress, asking for help, just looking at us in panic," Bushnell said unblinkingly, the image of that night etched in his mind. "There was a lot of crying from the man in the car. Just… panic.”
Searching for a way into the vehicle, Bushnell ran around the SUV. He opened the front passenger door. The car shuddered and groaned as it lurched, threatening to fall further down the embankment into the abyss below. Without hesitation, he braced against the door frame, stopping it from surrendering to the pull of gravity.
"We're going to have to pull him out this way," Harris said to Bushnell, motioning to the back passenger door.
Bushnell and Harris worked fast, relying on instinct and trust—skills sharpened by years of military service and training to respond in high-stress situations.
Problem-solving wasn't new to them; it was part of their daily lives.
Senior Airman Peyton Bushnell, 52nd Maintenance Squadron aerospace propulsion technician, describes himself as a surgeon but for 20,000 pound fighter jets.
"For five years, I worked the flight line—hands in the belly of jets, troubleshooting, fixing, launching aircraft," explained Bushnell. "Now, I'm in the back shop, breaking down entire engines to the smallest bolt and rebuilding them from the ground up."
Without his daily problem-solving and hands-on mechanics, jets don’t just stay grounded—missions stall, and air superiority is compromised. His work ensures air power is projected when and where it’s needed.
Senior Airman Audrey Harris, 52nd Medical Operations Squadron aerospace medical technician, loves not knowing what's coming next in her medical job.
"No day is the same," shared Harris. "One moment, I'm helping a newborn; the next, I'm treating a kid with a broken finger. In the medical field, you don't get 'ordinary' days."
Without her adaptability and quick decision-making, patient care suffers and critical moments are lost. Her work ensures life-saving medical support is always ready when it matters most.
Bushnell and Harris met as neighbors, bonding over small acts of kindness—him scraping ice off her windshield, her borrowing his vacuum. Despite their differences—Bushnell, measured and analytical; Harris, quick-thinking and resolute—they naturally complemented each other.
That night, their friendship became instinctive teamwork. Without needing to speak, they fell into a rhythm—Bushnell's steady calculated approach balancing Harris' quick action. They didn't think; they just acted.
Bushnell shoved himself through the door, cramming into the backseat beside Harris.
The man in the driver's seat was tall and broad, making it hard to maneuver him.
Bushnell planted his feet up on the dashboard, stabilizing himself. Sliding his hands underneath the man's arms, he gripped tight and began pulling with Harris lifting the man's legs.
The car groaned as they hauled the man through the cramped backseat. Every movement felt like a risk, as the car was balanced precariously on the hillside.
Bushnell’s muscles strained as he twisted and pulled the man’s upper body from the vehicle. Harris scrambled over the driver’s body to help pull him out the rest of the way.
With one final, desperate heave, Bushnell and Harris freed him from the wreckage.
As they pulled him out onto the ground, Bushnell and Harris exhaled at the same time. The hardest part was over, but they weren’t finished yet. There still stood a nearly vertical wall of loose dirt and tangled brush between them and safety.
Armed with only a cell phone flashlight and sheer determination, they hoisted the man to his feet and supported his weight on their shoulders. The man was weak and shaking, making the climb ahead that much more daunting.
They took their first steps toward the darkness above.
Bushnell and Harris wrestled with shrubs and fumbled over uneven terrain as gravity dared them to misstep. Grasping at loose rocks and knotted roots, they dragged themselves upward. As the man's weight shifted treacherously backward, their breath caught and their muscles tensed, narrowly preventing them from falling.
"We just had to take it one step at a time. If one of us slipped, we'd all go down," Bushnell emphasized. "The last few steps were the hardest, but we couldn’t just stop."
They clawed their way to the road above, and with one final push, Bushnell and Harris heaved the man over the edge onto level ground.
"When we got him to the top, he kept grabbing my arm and looking deep into my eyes, just thanking me in German over and over again," Harris smiled softly. "I couldn't understand everything, but I knew what he meant."
Bushnell noticed a bystander nearby and asked her to call the police.
As a cold wind whipped around them, the man shivered violently, still bleeding from his head. They moved him to Harris' car and treated his wound.
Harris and Bushnell stood in the quiet night, their breaths heavy, the weight of the moment finally settling in. The harrowing event had tested their skills, their knowledge, and their trust in each other but when it mattered most, they didn’t hesitate.
Distant sirens grew louder, and flashing blue lights illuminated the trees around them as an ambulance arrived. Harris and Bushnell relayed the details of the incident to the EMTs as they treated the man for his injuries.
"I just told them he was conscious but disoriented, had a head wound, and had trouble responding at first," Harris "We didn't move him more than we had to."
"We told them he was really shaken up," Bushnell added. "But by the time we got him to the top, he was responding better."
More blue lights cut through the darkness as the police arrived. Two officers exited their white patrol car, surveying the scene before turning to Bushnell and Harris.
"I remember trying to explain in my broken German—'Er war... da unten... Auto kaputt...'" Bushnell said bashfully. "Which is me just saying, 'He was down there. Car broken.'"
"I remember looking at Bushnell and just thinking, 'God, I hope they understand what we're saying.'" Harris laughed.
A large tractor rumbled down the road. The machine’s massive metal arm hooked onto the wreckage, its gears grinding as it slowly hauled the vehicle back up the hill. With the SUV dangling from the hook, the tractor lumbered away.
The EMTs loaded the man into the ambulance. Before leaving, they turned to Bushnell and Harris, asking if there was anything else they could do. Bushnell and Harris shook their heads and said they were fine. The EMTs thanked them for helping the man before slamming the ambulance doors shut. The vehicle rumbled to life, tail lights glowing red before vanishing around the bend.
Bushnell and Harris’ shoes scuffed against the pavement, slower this time. The weight of the night settled over them as they walked to their cars.
The same road that had carried them into chaos now carried them home. The hazard lights were gone. The sirens had faded. The night had returned to stillness.
The night had swallowed the wreckage, and soon, even the memory of it would fade for most. But not for Bushnell and Harris. Somewhere, a man would wake up tomorrow because two strangers had refused to look away.
They wouldn’t call themselves heroes, but their actions that night told a different story. No capes, no grand speeches. Just two Airmen who did what needed to be done.
| Date Taken: | 03.20.2025 |
| Date Posted: | 03.20.2025 09:36 |
| Story ID: | 493298 |
| Location: | RHEINLAND-PFALZ, DE |
| Web Views: | 3,494 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, What Makes A Hero, by A1C Demi M. Ebert, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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