"We Crashed at Sea!" - The Origins of the Born Again Irishman
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Flight 923

Brace for Impact

Crowded Raft

Rescue Ship

Ireland

I-Connection

 

Brace For Impact

We were at only at 200 feet above the waves when the announcement was made: "It looks like we're going to have to ditch." That was all there was to it. Looks like we're going to ditch. And we started losing more altitude.

I got into the brace position, with hands behind my legs and my head resting on my lap.  The lights were turned off to get us used to the dark.  Only the very dim night lights remained.  Everyone was silent and praying.  Everyone braced themselves for impact.  We sat waiting, in silence, waiting, waiting, now, now, and WHAM!! 

It was a belly whopper! No skipping along the surface.

WHAM!!

More like WHOP!!

We hit a mountain of water, belly first. 

My seat held fast but some broke off. The hull split open and a wing snapped off. Someone flew clear over my head. The sudden sensation of icy water on my stocking feet terrified me!  Horror! Frigid, frightening horror! 

I popped my seat belt release and jumped out of my seat, reaching for the emergency window in front of me. In one jerk, I pulled it off the wall.  I was out, one of the first! My God, it was horrible! 

The North Atlantic is cold, so terribly cold that it takes your breath away, even during the warmest month of the year. The water was so choppy! So wild and choppy! Beyond belief!

I could hardly keep my face above the water. I was gasping for air and groping for my life vest strings. Where were they? My God! Where were they, those live vest strings? They weren't at my waist as they were on the plane. They weren't anywhere around my chest. Where the hell were they? 

It was dark--the water was vicious, totally violent and merciless. It kept breaking in my face. It was like someone was tossing buckets of water in my face faster than I could turn away or catch a breath. I was drowning with my head out of the water! 

The life vest! Those strings! I found the strings -- and none too soon -- up around my neck, not at my waist. In a very short hiss, I was floating, but still choking for air. 

During the drill exercises, we were told to get out on the wing in order to reach the life rafts. Climb out of the emergency window on to the wing. There are two life rafts in each wing that will open up, and one raft is in the cabin. I'm out of the window and no wing! The wing broke off on impact. No rafts! 

The plane was sinking fast. At first I just floundered, thrashing my arms and legs at the fury of the waves, gasping for air and screaming to God for help. This wasn't working the way they said it would. I couldn't see anyone.  I was horrified! Panic stricken! I couldn't breathe. I couldn't keep my head above water even with the life vest inflated. I couldn't think. I was being swallowed up by pitch-black, splashing wet air and heart-stopping cold. All I could do was thrash about wildly and scream for help. There was no one to help me! 

Baggage popped up around me. Gasoline covered the water and got in my face. It made me vomit. I grabbed a floating duffel bag and drifted toward the tail. 

The tail!  That distinctive, evil-looking three-fin tail of the Super Constellation! Its threatening silhouette loomed in the darkness, seemingly flapping up and down in the water. But it wasn’t the tail that was jumping up and down. It was the action of the waves jumping up to slam against it, then dropping away, out of reach.

It was an evil illusion. It looked as if the tail was waiting for me to drift under it for the kill. It was alive and it was out to kill me! I was horrified. I grabbed it as if to fight it. I was screaming, screaming for help.  And then, as if flash from out of the darkness, I snapped to my senses. I gained control. I could think again, just for a second or two, but that was all I needed. A second or two of clarity. I pushed away from the tail and a minute later the plane sank into the darkness of the sea. 

Lonely Desperation!

It was so lonely! I could hear distant cries for help, but I couldn't see anyone.  The sea was so stormy.  The waves were so high and choppy. The tops of the waves were blowing off into my face. I couldn't keep my head out of the water. I was drowning. I was screaming for someone to help me, but there was no one near by, not a single bloody soul!

Then a flash of light! I saw the raft and started swimming toward it with all my strength.  The waves were so huge. The raft kept disappearing from view.  Was it for real?  Keep going!  The waves kept breaking in my face.  Keep going!  Catch your breath, but keep going! 

A hundred yards feels like a hundred miles in the angry cold Atlantic.  I was a good swimmer, a strong swimmer! I was Red Cross qualified and had been a lifeguard for the past five summers. I knew the fastest, strongest strokes, the ones that kept the head the furthest out of the water. Still I knew I was drowning. I was a brand new paratrooper, one of the world's most physically fit! With all that training and all that stamina, I was drowning, choking, gasping for air.  I begged for God to save me.  It was cold and dark and I was dying. 

"Help me God, please help me!" I was screaming. 

I made it to the raft. 

The raft! At last the raft! It was the only one--a 25 man raft for 76 of us.

The raft was packed. I couldn't get over the side. My clothes were too heavy, soaked with sea water and gasoline. My muscles were getting cold and stiff. I was exhausted. I couldn't get over the side of the raft. The wet rubber was too slippery. The icy waves kept pulling me back … back into the frigid, blackened ocean. A thousand wet and frozen fingers were choking me, grabbing at my throat, pulling on my back and shoulders, pulling me back to the sea!  I couldn't get over the side.

Others were hanging on to the side of the raft, screaming for help. I couldn't make out any faces. I was screaming for my own life. Please, please. The people in the raft just sat there looking at us. Weren't they going to let us in?  Weren't they going to do anything. Couldn't they hear me screaming. They were going into shock and couldn't even help themselves. 

Then someone on the inside shouted, "The raft's too crowded!" 

Too crowded? 

The raft's too crowded?

My God, the horror! Too crowded! I have to die! No! No! Don't let me die!  I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Help me! Please God help me!" 

At last, someone reached out and helped me climb over the side of the raft. Thank God!  Thank God! I finally got in. 

Go to -> [The Raft] - [The Rescue Ship] - [Ireland at Last]

Back to-> [Flight 923]   Return to-> [The Irish Connection]

 

Copyright 2001, Fred Caruso, All Rights Reserved

This article is the central theme of "Born Again Irish" by Fred Caruso, a story of transformation -- from being a rowdy young man raised as an Italian Catholic in a very Jewish community in the suburbs of New York City, to that of being an easy-going Irishman, with dual US and Irish citizenship, and a home near the village of Glengarriff in southwest County Cork.

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