This Gig Harbor man risked his life to rescue a truck driver, and was saved in return

A Gig Harbor resident is reflecting on the dramatic rescue that earned him the Carnegie Medal for Heroism. The award is given to those who enter extreme danger while saving or attempting to save the lives of others.

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n May 2, 2022, Jeffrey Schmidt, a Marine Corps veteran, was driving home late after finishing up his workday as a career transition coordinator for the Wounded Warrior Project.

As he drove down the highway in Auburn, he chatted on the phone with his little sister and nephew. But as he approached a roundabout, he noticed cars starting to pull off to the side of the road. Traffic slowed down.

"I see people, they're getting out of their car. There's an overturned semitruck," Schmidt recollected.

A few people started to gather outside of the truck. Suddenly, glass shattered, and the semitruck started on fire.

"I pulled my car off to the side of the road, and I just told my sister, 'I gotta go. I don't know if somebody's still inside there.'"

Someone was still inside — the driver was trapped, and Schmidt could hear them calling out for help.

With the driver side pinned up against a guardrail, Schmidt searched for any way to free the driver. He noticed two windows.

"I start kicking it with my boots, and nothing's happening," he said. "No cracks, no chips, no nothing like that."

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Schmidt's blood was pumping. He could still hear the driver. If he had a crowbar, maybe he could smash the window.

A few other people had gathered around the truck. As Schmidt jumped over the guardrail, he called out, asking if anyone had a crowbar. One man had a hammer.

Schmidt grabbed the hammer and jumped back over the guardrail. Time was running out.

With one hit, Schmidt smashed one of the windows. Then he smashed another. As more oxygen entered the truck cab, the flames grew, and smoke billowed. The truck started melting onto Schmidt's sweatshirt and pants, burning his leg.

"That's when I reach into the semitruck, and I grab the gentleman that I saved, and I start tugging him. And as I'm reaching in, glass is slicing my hands," Schmidt said. "It was like sticking my hands into an oven, my hands start blistering instantly."

Schmidt tugged and tugged on the driver, trying to free him. He didn't budge.

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Another man approached the truck and joined Schmidt in an effort to pull the driver loose. After several more tugs, they freed him.

Schmidt says another bystander took off their sweatshirt or jacket to put out the remaining flames on the driver's body. His burns looked really severe, Schmidt remembers, his skin and clothes were just "hanging" from his body.

Schmidt and two other men carried the driver away from the truck. As they sat him down, they could see the semitruck fully engulfed in flames. An ambulance arrived, and the driver was whisked to Harborview Medical Center.

With the driver handled, a fire captain turned their attention toward Schmidt and his wounds. After cutting his pants off and examining the burns on his legs and hands, Schmidt was told he should go to the hospital as well.

But there was just one issue.

"I don't have health insurance," Schmidt told the captain. "I was just like, 'It's cool, I'm a veteran, I'll just bring myself to the Seattle VA Medical Center.'"

Eventually, Schmidt says he was convinced to let the captain drive him to the VA center. News outlets were scrambling to try to talk to Schmidt, but he refused interviews. He just had one thing on his mind — was the driver going to make it?

After treating his wounds, and checking his lungs, Schmidt was discharged. His brother picked him up from the hospital. A state trooper reached out to get his report on what happened that day and told him the prognosis of the driver wasn't looking good.

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The driver wasn't the only person battling a tough recovery. At the time of the accident, Schmidt says he was undergoing his own struggles.

"I was dealing with things from the Marine Corps, I had just got out of an eight-year relationship," he said. "I didn't want to exist anymore."

Before the accident, Schmidt felt he had hit rock bottom. After the accident, he felt alone.

Schmidt went back to his home state of Minnesota, and stayed with family, waiting for any word about the progress of the driver.

A state trooper called him a few days after he returned to Minnesota.

"He was like, 'Hey, I just wanted to call to let you know he is gonna make it. The burns are pretty bad, 50% of his body was burned.'"

The driver and his wife wanted to talk to Schmidt.

A couple weeks later, Schmidt stood outside Harborview, waiting to meet the man he saved. As soon as he entered the driver's room, Schmidt says he felt an "instant connection."

"From what we had just been through together, we really permanently bonded at that point," Schmidt said. "It's like no one else could understand that situation that we shared with each other."

Schmidt and the driver were able to swap stories about what happened that day.

After the semitruck tipped over, the driver said he tried his best to get out but couldn't. The flames started, and he started yelling for help. He looked down at his feet, and noticed his boots had melted. He stopped asking for help and started praying.

"And as he's finishing up that last prayer, that's when the window smashes," Schmidt said. "That's when I reach in and start tugging on him to pull him out of there."

The driver told Schmidt he had been dreaming of him since the accident.

A new birthday

Schmidt continued to visit the driver in the hospital. They watched Netflix together and ordered takeout.

The two built a solid friendship.

"He would say, 'May 2nd is my new birthday, you gave me another chance at life,'" Schmidt said. "I felt like I was reborn."

After the accident, Schmidt felt like it was finally time to heal from his past. He traveled to Mexico and spent time with healers and medicine people.

"Just as much as this gentleman's thankful for me, I'm thankful for that day as well, because it did save myself too, and really changed my trajectory in life," he said.

Schmidt says he wasn't comfortable talking about the accident initially, or his time in the Marine Corps. But as time passed, and he healed emotionally, his perspective shifted.

"Why would I ever not talk about this? Why would I save this sort of secret? It should be talked about, it changed my life," Schmidt said.

Today, Schmidt still works for the Wounded Warrior Project, and he's preparing for a new role with the nonprofit related to mental health.

He says he feels honored to receive the Carnegie Medal, but he has no idea who nominated him.

Schmidt remains close friends with the driver and says he's a humble man who wishes to remain anonymous.

"He's doing tremendous things in his life," Schmidt said. "And I'm very thankful for him and his family."

Carnegie Medal winners receive a financial grant with their award, and Schmidt says he may use the money to fund a trip to meet the family of the man he saved.