Peace and serenity surrounded me as I looked out the window; the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a vibrant blue and for a brief moment the vision was heaven until I heard, Oh my God! This can't be happening, dear God help us! In an instant, peace and serenity gave way to a fight for survival.
Many years ago, I was rescued from an uninhabited island, when the twin-engine aircraft my friends and I were traveling on crashed into the ocean. I am now 50 years old and my days marooned on the island are some that I will never forget. This story is one of friendship, tragedy, and rebirth that faced four friends as they traveled to a paradise lost.
John, Clara, Tam and I set off for a nine-hour journey that began on July 17, 1955. We were traveling to Tahiti for a much-needed vacation, when both engines of the plane failed and we were sent plummeting to certain death over the vast Pacific Ocean.
There was panicked screaming. To me the events seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Looking out my window all I could see was the water getting closer and closer. John, my friend and pilot, managed to get the plane on an even keel and the plane seemed to skip across the water like a pebble would if one had thrown it in such a way. By some miracle, the plane remained intact upon impact and was perilously floating on top of the water.
After the crash, we only had a few minutes before the plane would slip into the dark abyss of the ocean. Unbuckling my seat belt, I quickly sprang into action; John and Tam were ok but Clara was bleeding from a gash in her head and was...