Pressure and stress, how do you cope with it?

6th Nov 1986. There was a continuous series of heavy snow storms over Scotland, I was flying back to Aberdeen at 500’ to avoid headwinds, ice and turbulence. The Senior line training Capt wondered how I could fly smoke my pipe and drink coffee at the same time. Multi-tasking, my way of dealing with the pressure. I had suffered an ulcer in Sarawak and had learned to control my system by relaxing while watching him and the machine like a hawk at the same time. 
7th Nov 1986, a late departure for the Minch, the seas North of Stornaway, snow, ice and deepening gloom. I was with the Senior Standards Capt as my co-pilot; out of approximately 150 Captains, six of us were winch trained. My task was to winch to six destroyers and frigates of the NATO fleet exercising in the North Atlantic. When we got to them we did our checks, and locked the main navaid, RNAV, to prevent it tripping over to the next waypoint, standard procedure. 
The seas were rough, the snow incessant and it was dark. We did not have permission to winch at night but got on with the job. My first two lifts were poor, I followed the ship’s movements instead of ignoring them. The last four went well as I got a grip. One RN ship asked if I was having problems, I asked if they wanted their mail or not. When we departed we went through our checks and I asked for a heading for Aberdeen from my colleague. “RNAV shows 315°”….”No, that’s not right.” “It says on the box 315°!!” “Yes but that would take us to Greenland.” Overview, control; calmly. I unlocked the box and we set 135°, that’s better. En-route back we spotted emergency flares and rockets beneath some cliffs. Getting ready to help we discovered a ship’s crew firing off their out of date flares from the cliff tops, the Plod were unimpressed. 
When we returned I was told that the next morning I would be going back to a nuclear submarine in the same area. Ooooo! HMS Tireless, an attack submarine, enemy for the fleet training. That’s the sub that blew up it’s big nuclear microwave and got stuck in Gibraltar.
8th Nov 1986. Once again we got ready, unusually there were two senior managers and the director in the planning room. I was briefed that the day before one of my friends had been to the sub and during the lift had dragged the passenger over the coaming, breaking his hip. That’s the day this image was taken. The sub’s lift area on the fin is the size of your dining table. Before lots of advice came my way I asked them to leave me and my crew alone. No extra pressure please.
On time and the right location the sub surfaced. She steamed into the wind as usual but the seas were so big they covered her all the way back to the fin/sail and she was rolling and heaving like a sow. I asked her to turn around downwind and then sat happily over her sail looking directly at the last of her stern and her rudder. The lift went well, the matelot was amazed at being in a civilian helicopter. One of my winch-ops hated high altitude. With limited fuel Richard and I opted to clamber over the snow storms back to Aberdeen; our limit was 10,000’ as oxygen is thin up there. The winch-op asked, “Hey Rob, what height are we at? “Why?” “Well there’s ice on my window!” “We are at 13,500’.” Yelling from the rear, he was like a cat in a pint mug of water. 
Back at base we tidied up and went home. A few months later a Doc told me I was suffering from stress, now there’s a surprise.