Mike continued trying to help survivors off of the plane and out of the wreckage. Surrounded by the vast destruction of the airliner debris and personal belongings, Mike began to try to form groups of survivors. Those with minor scrapes, bruises etc he tried to gather into one area. People with broken arms that required a bit more attention would have to go to another area. The deceased bodies would have to be disposed of properly before disease begin to spread. All of those thoughts ran through his head as he re-entered the broken fuselage. 

""Does anyone have a knife? Could someone please help me?" he heard from among the wreckage. The voice was clipped with a strong British accent. He began making his way to the gentleman and the woman that he was trying to assist. 

"Sir, I don't have a knife but we can get something to help, hang on just a sec." Mike turned quickly and began searching through the debris until he found a thick piece of the window plexiglass. He sprinted back to the man and carefully began cutting the safety belt.

"Howdy y'all, I'm Mike," he said quickly in his southern drawl, "Ma'am we're going to get you out of here in just a moment, hang tight." 

Mike worked at cutting through the seatbelt while trying to keep up a conversation. He had learned through past Search & Rescue missions that just talking with another human has a therapeutic response and can help keep them focused. Once the seatbelt was cut he turned to the man beside him, "On the count of three let's link our arms and lift her out of here, there's a small clearing just past the starboard wing we can lay her down and give her a bit of shade."