As night set in, the survivors were wet, cramped, and bitterly cold, with no cushions, shoes or blankets to protect them. There was barely room to sit or stand; they could only lie in a tangle, punching each other’s bodies to keep the blood flowing in their veins, yet not knowing to whom the arms and legs belonged. To make more space, some of the snow in the centre of the cabin was shovelled to either end; with the Strauch cousins and Parrado, Roy scooped out a hole with room for four to sit and one to stand. The one whose turn it was to stand would jump on the feet of the others to try and keep them from freezing.
The night was endless. Only Carlitos was able to sleep, and then only for brief periods. The others remained awake, wriggling their fingers and toes and rubbing their faces and hands together to keep warm. After several hours another danger presented itself: the little air that was left in the plane became stale and stuffy. Some of the boys began to feel faint from the lack of oxygen. Roy went to the entrance and tried to dig an air shaft, but his arm could not reach up to the surface, and in any case the snow there had frozen into ice too hard to be penetrated by bare hands. Parrado then took one of the steel poles that had been used to make the hammocks and poked it through the roof of the cabin. He worked by the light of five cigarette lighters as the boys around him watched anxiously, for they had no idea if the snow which covered them was one foot deep or twelve. But after poking the bar through and working it up, Parrado soon felt it slide unimpeded into the fresh air, and when he drew it back into the cabin it left a hole through which he could see the frail light of the moon and stars.
Through this hole they watched for the coming of morning, and eventually the damp blackness inside the plane gave way to a pale, lugubrious light as the sun rose in the east and its rays filtered down through the snow. As soon as they could see what they were doing, they considered how to get out of their tomb. There was too much snow above them to get through at the entrance, but it seemed to lie more thinly over the pilots’ cabin; and light could be seen filtering through the window. Canessa, Sabella, Inciarte, Fito Strauch, Harley and Parrado began to tunnel through the pilots’ cabin. It was full of frozen snow which they had to remove with their bare hands, and the six worked in turns. Then Zerbino, who wore thick clothing and could stand the cold better than some of the others, squeezed past the dead pilots’ bodies and reached the window which, because of the tilt of the plane, looked up toward the sky. He tried to open it but the snow piled on top was too heavy, so he came back down. Canessa tried, but he too failed. Roy went next and finally pushed out the glass and broke through the snow into daylight.
He pushed his head above the surface. It was around eight in the morning but darker than usual because the sky was overcast. Clouds of snow swirled around him. He was warmly dressed in a woollen cap and a waterproof jacket, but the strong wind blew snow into his eyes and stung the skin of his face and hands.
He lowered himself down into the pilots’ cabin and shouted down to the others, ‘It’s no good! There’s a blizzard out there.’
‘Try and uncover the windows,’ someone called.
Roy lifted himself up again and this time climbed out of the plane, but the fuselage behind him was completely covered. It was impossible to see where the windows might be, and he was afraid that if he moved he might slip off the roof and be lost in the snow. He climbed back through the window and rejoined his companions.
The blizzard continued throughout that day, the flakes floating down the tunnel past the corpses of the pilots, still crushed in their seats. The thin layer that collected was scooped up by some of the boys to quench their thirst; others broke off harder lumps of older snow.
It was October 30 and Numa Turcatti’s twenty-fifth birthday. The boys gave him an extra cigarette and made a birthday cake out of the snow. Numa was neither an Old Christian nor a rugby player – he had been educated by the Jesuits and preferred soccer – but there was great strength in his stocky figure and calm manner. Many would have liked to give him a better time on his birthday, but instead it was he who improved their spirits. ‘We have survived the worst,’ he said. ‘From now on, things can only get better.’
They did nothing that day but suck at snow and wait for the storm to abate. They talked a great deal about the avalanche. Some, like Inciarte, thought that the best of them had died because God loved them most, but others could make no sense of it. Parrado expressed his determination to leave. ‘As soon as the snow stops,’ he said, ‘I’m going. If we wait here any longer, we’ll all get killed by another avalanche.’
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Fito judiciously. ‘The plane’s covered now. The second avalanche went over the top. So we’re safe here for the time being. If we start out now, the chances are we’ll be hit by an avalanche as we walk through the snow.’
They listened to Fito with respect because he had remained calm just after the avalanche, and now he showed none of the hysteria evident in some of the others.
‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t wait until the weather gets better,’ he went on.
‘But how long?’ asked Vizintín, another who wanted to leave at once.
‘I remember in Santiago,’ said Algorta, ‘a taxi driver told me that the snow stops and summer starts on the fifteenth of November.’
‘The fifteenth of November,’ said Fito. ‘That’s just over two weeks. It’s worth waiting that long if it adds to your chances of getting through.’
No one could argue against this.
‘And about that time,’ he said, ‘there should be a full moon. It would mean that you could walk by night when the snow’s hard and sleep during the day when it’s warmer.’
They ate nothing that day, and that night, as they huddled together to try and sleep, they all followed Carlitos in the rosary. The next day, October 31, was his nineteenth birthday. The present he would most have wanted, after a cream cake or a raspberry milkshake, was a break in the weather, but when he climbed up the tunnel to the open window the next morning, he saw that it was snowing just as heavily. He returned and predicted to the others, ‘We’ll get three days of bad weather and then three of sunshine.’
The bitter cold combined with their wet clothes to deplete their strength. They had eaten nothing for two days and now felt enormously hungry. The bodies of those who had been killed in the crash remained buried in the snow outside the plane, so the cousins uncovered one of those who had been smothered in the avalanche and cut meat off the body right in front of everyone’s eyes. The meat before had either been cooked or at least dried in the sun; now there was no alternative but to eat it wet and raw as it came off the bone, and since they were so hungry, many ate larger pieces, which they had to chew and taste. It was dreadful for all of them; indeed, for some it was impossible to eat gobbets of flesh cut from the body of a friend who two days before had been living beside them.
Roberto Canessa and Fito Strauch argued with them; Fito even forced Eduardo to eat the meat. ‘You must eat it. Otherwise you will die, and we need you alive.’ But no arguments or exhortations could overcome the physical revulsion in Eduardo Strauch, Inciarte and Turcatti, and as a result their physical condition deteriorated.
The first of November was All Saints’ Day and Pancho Delgado’s birthday. As Carlitos had predicted it had stopped snowing, and six of the boys climbed out onto the roof to warm themselves in the sun. Canessa and Zerbino dug the snow off the windows to let more light into the plane, and Fito and Eduardo Strauch and Daniel Fernández melted snow for drinking water, while Carlitos smoked a cigarette and thought about his family, for it was also his father’s and his sister’s birthday. He felt certain now that he would see them again. If God had saved him in both the accident and the avalanche, it could only be to reunite him with his family. The nearness of God in the still landscape set a seal on his conviction.
When the sun went behind a cloud it became cold again, and the six climbed back into the Fairchild. All they could do now was wait.
2
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In the days which followed, the weather remained clear. There were no heavy falls of snow, and the stronger and more energetic among the nineteen survivors were able to dig a second tunnel out through the back of the plane. Using shovels made from pieces of metal or plastic broken off the body of the plane, they hacked at the hard snow, recovering objects which had been, lost in the avalanche. Páez, for example, found his rugby boots.
Once a tunnel had been made, they were able to set about removing from the cabin both the snow and the bodies buried beneath it. The snow was like rock and their tools were inadequate. The corpses, frozen into the last gestures of self-defence, some with their arms raised to protect their faces like the victims of Vesuvius at Pompeii, were difficult to move. Some of the boys could not bring themselves to touch the dead, especially the bodies of their close friends, so they would tie one of the long nylon luggage straps around the shoulders of the corpse and drag it out.
Those buried inside near the entrance were left there, encased in the wall of ice which protected the living from a further avalanche. They provided a reserve supply of food, in case another avalanche or heavy blizzard should cover and conceal the bodies they had just taken out, for those who had died in the crash were now completely lost under the snow. For the same reason, when the survivors came in at night, they would leave a limb or a portion of a torso on the ‘porch’ in case the weather the next day made it impossible for them to go out.
It took eight days for the plane to be made more or less habitable, but a wall of snow remained at either end and the space they had to live in was more restricted than before – even allowing for the fewer numbers. Many looked back with mild regret to the halcyon days before the avalanche: ‘We thought we were badly off then, but what luxury and comfort compared to this!’ There was only one advantage to ensue from the avalanche: the extra clothes which could be taken from the dead bodies. Feeling that God would help them if they helped themselves, the survivors not only set about the tasks which would make their immediate life more bearable but planned and prepared for their ultimate escape.
Before the avalanche it had been decided that a party of the fittest among them should set off for Chile. At first there had been a division of opinion between those who thought a larger group would stand a better chance and those who felt that it would be wise to concentrate their resources on a group of only three or four. As it became clear during the weeks following the crash, and especially during the stormy days after the avalanche, that the conditions encountered on any expedition would be severe, the reasoning of the second group prevailed. Four or five would be chosen as expeditionaries. They would be given larger rations of meat and the best places to sleep and be excused from the daily labour of cutting meat and clearing snow, so that when summer finally settled in and the snow began to melt towards the end of November they would be strong, healthy, and fit for their walk to Chile.
The first factor to be considered in choosing these expeditionaries was their physical condition. Some who had been unharmed in the accident had suffered since. Zerbino’s eyes had not fully recovered from his climb up the mountain. Inciarte had painful boils on his leg. Sabella and Fernández were well enough but, not being players, they were less fit than those in the first fifteen of the Old Christians. Eduardo Strauch, strong at the outset, had been weakened by the revulsion he felt for eating human flesh immediately after the avalanche. The choice narrowed to Parrado, Canessa, Harley, Páez, Turcatti, Vizintín and Fito Strauch. Some of them were more enthusiastic candidates than others. Parrado was so determined to escape that, had he not been chosen, he would have gone on his own. Turcatti too was emphatic that he should be one of the expeditionaries; he had two previous expeditions to prove his physical and mental stamina, and the younger boys had great faith that if he went the expedition would succeed.
Canessa had more imagination than some of the others and foresaw the danger and hardship which would be involved, but he felt that because of his exceptional strength and acknowledged inventiveness it was his duty to go. In the same way Fito Strauch volunteered, more from a sense of obligation than a real desire to leave the relative safety of the Fairchild, but nature intervened to settle his case, for eight days after the avalanche he developed severe haemorrhoids which effectively excluded him. His two cousins were delighted that he was to stay.
The remaining three, Páez, Harley and Vizintín, all wanted to be expeditionaries but, though they were considered fit enough, some doubts were felt as to their maturity and strength of mind. And so it was decided that these three should go on a trial expedition which would last a day. Already, since the avalanche, there had been some minor sorties from the immediate surroundings of the plane. Francois and Inciarte had climbed three hundred feet up the mountain, resting after every ten steps to smoke a cigarette. Turcatti had gone up to the wing with Algorta, climbing with less energy and more effort than he had shown before, for he too had been weakened by his distaste for raw meat.
Páez, Harley, and Vizintín set out at eleven o’clock in the – morning, seven days after the avalanche, to prove themselves. Their plan was to walk down across the valley to the large mountain on the other side. It seemed to be an attainable objective for a one-day expedition.
They wore two sweaters each, two pairs of trousers, and rugby boots. The surface of the snow was frozen so they walked easily down the valley, zigzagging where the descent was too steep to follow a direct path. They carried nothing with them to hamper their progress. After walking like this for an hour and a half they came upon the rear door of the plane and, scattered beyond it, some of the contents of the galley: two empty aluminium containers for storing coffee and Coca-Cola, a rubbish bin, and a jar of instant coffee, empty but for a residue of powder left at the bottom. The three immediately put snow into the jar, melted it as best they could, and drank the coffee-flavoured water. They then emptied out the rubbish bin and to their delight found some broken pieces of candy, which they scrupulously divided into thirds and sucked, sitting on the snow. They were, for those few moments, in ecstasy. Though searching further, all they could find was a cylinder of gas, a broken thermos and some maté. They put the maté in the thermos and took it with them as they continued on their way.
After walking down and across the valley for another two hours they began to realize that distances are deceptive in the snow and they were little nearer to the mountain opposite than when they started. Their progress had also become more difficult because the midday sun had melted the surface of the snow and they now fell into it up to their knees. At three o’clock they decided to return to the plane, but as they retraced their tracks they quickly discovered how much more difficult it was to walk up the mountain than it had been to come down. Ominously, the sky had clouded over and a few flakes of snow began to fall and swirl around them in the wind.
They reached the coffee jar and refreshed themselves again with coffee-flavoured water. Roy and Carlitos picked up the two containers from the galley, realizing that they would be useful for making water back at the plane, but found them too heavy and discarded them. Vizintín, however, held onto the large rubbish bin and used it as a kind of staff to push himself up the mountain.
The climb became exceptionally difficult. They still sank to their knees in the snow, the slopes were steeper, the flurries turned to heavy snow, and all three were tired. Roy and Carlitos were close to panic. In the confused dimensions of the snow-covered landscape, they had lost all sense of how near or far they were from the plane. There were undulations in the side of the mountain, and as they reached the summit of each one they expected to see the Fairchild; but it was never there, and with each disappointment their spirits fell. Roy began to cry, and Carlitos finally collapsed in the snow. ‘I can’t go on,’ he said. ‘I can’t, I can’t. Leave me. You go on. Leave me here to die.’
‘Come on, Carlitos,’ said Roy through his tears. ‘For God’s sake, come on! Think of your family … your mother … your father …?
??
‘I can’t move, I can’t move …’
‘Get up, you sissy,’ said Vizintín. ‘We’ll all freeze if we stay here.’
‘All right, I’m a sissy. A coward. I admit it. You go on.’
But they would not leave, and they bombarded Carlitos with a mixture of exhortation and abuse that eventually brought him to his feet again. They climbed a bit farther, to the crest of another hill, and still the plane was not in sight.
‘How much farther is it?’ asked Carlitos. ‘How much farther?’
A little later he again collapsed in the snow.
‘You go on,’ he said, ‘I’ll follow you in a minute.’
But again Vizintín and Harley would not abandon him, and once again they insulted him and pleaded with him until he got to his feet and walked on through the blinding snow.
They got back to the plane after the sun had set. The other boys had gone in and were waiting for them anxiously. When the three tumbled down the tunnel into the Fairchild, utterly exhausted, Carlitos and Roy in tears, it was apparent to all that the test had been severe and that some had failed.
‘It was impossible,’ said Carlitos.’ It was impossible and I collapsed, wanted to die, and cried like a baby.’
Roy shivered, wept, and said nothing.
Vizintín’s small, close-set eyes were quite dry. ‘It was tough,’ he said, ‘but possible.’
Thus Vizintín became the fourth expeditionary. Carlitos withdrew his candidacy after his experience on the trial expedition, and Roy was told by Parrado that he could not be an expeditionary because he cried too much, whereupon Roy burst into tears. He was disappointed, however, only because he thought Fito was going. He had known Fito since they were children and felt safe by his side. When Fito developed haemorrhoids and withdrew, Roy was quite happy to be among those who were to stay behind.