Case 1: the river skid
Josh Peltz (39)
Flight: US Airways flight 1549
Crash landing: the Hudson River, New York
Date: January 15 2009
I’d like to think anyone in my seat would have done the same thing. I was in 10F, the window seat of the emergency aisle, on the right side of the plane. A few minutes after takeoff came a loud explosion like a car backfiring. The plane jolted and there was a smell of burning machinery.
Everybody gasped and there were a few screams. Looking out of the window, I could see us rollicking back and forth; we were so high up, the houses looked like toys and the cars like ants. But we weren’t falling, so I thought: “OK, one of our engines has blown, but we have another engine; we’re returning to La Guardia.” I didn’t realise that both engines had failed.
It was eerily quiet. It soon became obvious we weren’t going to La Guardia. We were headed for the water, and I started thinking this could be it. I thought about my wife Tesa and our two children, and I tried to make peace.
Then I heard the announcement: “This is your captain, brace for impact”. Everything suddenly became very clear. I had to stop thinking about death and start thinking about what I was going to do once the pilot landed in the water. “You sat in this seat,” I thought, “you’ve got to get the door open.”
At about 90 metres, I started reading the instructions. There were six steps. I read them two or three times, testing myself on each step and trying to envision myself opening the door. We were headed for the water fast. I cinched my seat belt tighter and tighter, and balled myself up over my overcoat.
Then we hit the water. It felt like the worst car wreck you could imagine. We bounced and skidded to a halt. A lot of people had bloodied noses or eyes from hitting the seat in front of them.
Someone next to me was trying to pull the door in and I said: “No, it’s got to go out.” Thankfully, I’d just read that. I knew people would rush to the emergency exit, so if it had jammed there would have been a pile-up. I managed to get the door open and I grabbed the hand of a woman sitting next to me, Jenny. We walked out on to the wing, holding each other for support, the initial blast of cold air hitting us.
The waves were lapping over the wing and it was sinking lower. We pushed as far along as we could to make room for other people.
I heard later that people at the back were shoving and pushing as the plane started to fill up with water, but on the wing everyone was helping each other. It was freezing, and nobody had a jacket. Some people were submerged up to their waists. I was thinking: “OK, now we’re going to drown. We’re going to die of hypothermia.”
It felt like half an hour before we saw the first ferry, although it can have been only five or 10 minutes.
For a moment I thought about swimming for it, but I remembered hearing that hypothermia sets in seconds and, within minutes, your limbs no longer work. If you submerge your head, your brain doesn’t function properly.
I was fourth on to the ferry and I started helping people on to the boat. There was a woman clutching a baby for dear life and a man who had been submerged completely and was incoherent, lying on the deck of the ferry, moaning. The ferry drivers gave out their jackets and the shirts on their backs for people who were freezing.
I’ve suffered a lot of trauma since the crash. I’ve thought of alternative scenarios: the door not opening and being crushed. The wing catching in the water and tipping us in a cartwheel, over and over until the plane falls apart and I’m upside down, submerged in water. And I’ve also thought, why me? Why am I still here? But one thing I will take away from the experience is how everyone pulled together. It’s comforting to know I was able to respond in a crisis.
I got through it by taking it one step at a time, figuring out my next 10 seconds of action. I just kept on doing that until I reached solid ground and got into the ferry terminal and talked to my wife. Only then did I go into the men’s room and let myself cry for a few minutes.
Case 2: the rocky crash
Rosebell Kirungi (41)
Flight: small chartered flight
Crash landing: Rwenzori Mountains, Democratic Republic of Congo
Date: September 25 1998
It was a chartered flight from Uganda and we were just coming into Congo. I was seated over the wing, at the window. I was the only woman on board, with nine men.
About 45 minutes into the flight, I could see from my seat that the plane was flying very low over the mountains. The pilot announced he was losing control and I put on my seat belt.
Other people panicked. I was thinking about my family and praying. My worry was that if I died, my daughter was only four and I was a single mum — I didn’t want her to lose me. Within three minutes, the plane had crashed into trees, tearing off the wing next to me and nose-diving into the mountain.
The plane was in pieces. Some of the others went through the windscreen, but I was still strapped into my seat, with no injuries — the only thing I had lost were my shoes. I found myself taking off the seat belt.
The seats had been thrown from their positions. There was no way to go forwards or backwards; the only way to get out was to climb out of the hole over the wing. I was very calm and determined, which I think was my faith.
I got out and gave first aid to the other passengers who were in pain and bleeding. I got water from the plane and tried to keep them calm.
We knew the Congo rebels were in that area and we were afraid we might be found and killed. We divided ourselves into two groups of five to look for rescue parties. We walked into the night.
It was raining and snowing, and we had nothing to eat or drink. I didn’t know which direction I was walking in, but I believed my life had been saved and the rest was up to me.
The others died one by one. They didn’t have the strength to keep going and disappeared into the jungle. By the ninth day, I was on my own.
I was rescued on the 10th day of walking by a UN organisation and people from the Ugandan army.
They couldn’t see the plane crash site from the air, so they’d had to send a group out on the ground. I had walked more than 150km.
On the walk, I had developed gangrene. The medical facilities where I was rescued were inadequate.
I was later airlifted to a better hospital, but by then my toes were turning black. They amputated both of my legs below the knee.
I look back in a very positive way. It happened for a reason. I learned to walk again, learned to drive again and did a degree. I still enjoy flying. —