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The July 2025 Central Texas floods stand as one of the deadliest natural disasters in the state’s history, claiming over 82 lives, including nearly 30 children, with 41 still missing. Fueled by torrential rain from Tropical Storm Barry, the Guadalupe River surged nearly 30 feet in under an hour, overwhelming communities and summer camps. More than 850 people were rescued in heroic efforts led by the U.S. Coast Guard, with support from the Texas National Guard, local fire departments, EMS, law enforcement, DPS, and volunteer civilians who jumped into action without hesitation. From airlifts to shallow-water punt teams, the operation was an all-hands-on-deck rescue under extreme pressure.
Petty Officer Scott Ruskan was just 26 and had never faced an active assignment, until July 4th, 2025. By the time his boots hit the banks of Camp Mystic, He coordinated triage, stabilized survivors, and kept spirits alive as rain pounded and the river roared.
And he did what heroes do best, he got people out. Safely.
But he’s not alone. Dozens of Coast Guard personnel from air stations across Texas, Corpus Christi, Houston, San Antonio, deployed with little more than a name, a GPS pin, and a mission: get in, get them out, no excuses.
They navigated helicopters through dangerous winds and tight canyon corridors. They dropped into floodwater thick with debris. They waded through neighborhoods where the only sign of life was a hand waving above a rooftop. They found the family with the dog. The grandma clutching her oxygen tank. The kids were waiting for help that was never supposed to come this late.
And still, the Coast Guard came.
That’s what selfless service looks like. Not glory. Not pay. Not a press conference. Just long hours, soaked boots, and a gut-level commitment to protect Americans at all costs.
While politicians debated emergency declarations and cameras looked the other way, the Coast Guard was already on scene, pulling people from second-story windows and airlifting survivors one by one. The public may not always see them, but when disaster hits, they are always there.
They didn’t stop when night fell. They didn’t slow when bodies were found. They didn’t quit when fuel ran low. These are men and women trained for worst-case scenarios and calm under fire. They are not showboats. They are lifeboats.
And they reminded us that strength doesn’t always come from firepower. Sometimes, it comes from a steady hand on a hoist cable and a voice telling a scared child, “You’re safe now.”
In a world full of noise, the Coast Guard showed us what quiet courage really means.
So while the media moves on and the floodwaters recede, we remember. We remember the names. We remember the rescues. We remember the selfless service of those who suited up, launched out, and didn’t stop until everyone they could save was saved.
In times of devastation, the true character of a community is revealed. We offer our deepest thanks to every individual who stepped forward, those in uniform, those in the air, and those wading through floodwaters with nothing but a rope and resolve. You didn’t wait to be asked. You saw the need and answered with courage, grit, and heart. Texas will rebuild, but because of your selfless service, many lived to see another sunrise.
Semper Paratus!
