The sweetest sound I've ever heard was the two-way radio when it crackled to life asking our location for an emergency evacuation by a big Puma flying on radar.
The Puma couldn't land; he could only hover for a short time.
We crawled across the landing mat and jumped up into the helicopter one at a time as he made successive passes trying to time a calmer period when he could approach.
The thing I remember most clearly was that the sea was not black; it was solid white!
When we got back to the rig several days later, we could see the damage the waves had done to the items on our upper deck which was forty feet thick.
In other words, the wave height had to exceed the sixty foot air gap plus the forty foot hull depth to reach our upper deck.
The wind gauge in the wheel house was broken at 110 miles per hour.
Amazingly, the rig itself was virtually undamaged except for cracks in all the floors.