Well, this is the real thing. Except the island was the Andes mountains, and the lost were a group of boys who would face a dilemma too shocking, and too real, for prime time—whether to die a slow, excruciating death or eat the frozen bodies of their dead friends.
This was the stark choice facing a rugby team from Uruguay, and some of their friends and family, when the plane carrying them to a match in Chile crashed on October 13, 1972, in what was fittingly known Their story would amaze—and disturb—the world and become the basis for a best-selling selling and the movie,
Roberto Canessa was a 19-year-old medical student when the plane went down. In the intervening years, he became one of Uruguay’s best-known pediatric cardiologists. But the lessons he learned on the mountain never left him. His new book,tells the story of a young man who survived impossible odds—and went on to devote his life to giving hope to others.
Talking from Philadelphia, during his book tour, he explains how the joy of living was the key to overcoming death, how he coped with the shocking dilemma he faced on the mountain, and why we should all be more grateful for what we have.
It was a very abrupt moment. We had rented an air force plane to go from Uruguay to Chile. We were trying to cross the Andes when the pilot said, “Fasten your seatbelts, we are going to enter some turbulence.” Rugby players like to fool around and play macho. So we were throwing around rugby balls and singing a song, “Conga, conga, conga: the plane is dancing conga.” The next thing, someone looked out the window and said, “Aren’t we flying too close to the mountains?
The pilot had made a huge mistake: He’d turned north and begun the descent to Santiago while the aircraft was still in the high Andes. He began to climb, until the plane was nearly vertical and it began to stall and shake. Then we smashed into the side of the mountain. I was thrown forward with tremendous force and received a powerful blow to my head. I thought, You’re dead.” I grabbed my seat and recited a Hail Mary. Someone cried out, Please God, help me, help me!” It was the worst nightmare you can imagine. Another boy was screaming, “I’m blind!” When he moved his head I could see his brain—and a piece of metal sticking out of his stomach.
Because I was lucky. And because I always go step by step. I didn’t look at the mountain. There was always something to do, and I am very active. I also wasn’t seriously injured. I nearly gave up when the avalanche struck us. But then one of the other boys said, “Roberto, how lucky you are that you can walk for all of us.” That was like a heroic infusion into my heart. He had broken legs—but I could walk. My mission was not to just think what was better for me, but what was better for the group.
We needed blankets, so we skinned the seats of the plane, which contained a wool fabric. We put all the suitcases at the back of the fuselage to keep out the weather. We made sunglasses from the plastic screen in the pilot’s cabin. We used the bottom of the seats for snowshoes and built hammocks for the people with broken legs.
Everyone had a role, and because I was a medical student, I was in charge of the injured persons. I had to drain infections from the boys’ legs and stabilize fractures. I was also in charge of carting the dead bodies, which some people couldn’t stand. We melted snow to get water. We filled our rugby socks with meat for the trek out and used the insulation from the kitchen to make sleeping bags. At night, we used rugby balls to pee in because if you went outside your pee would freeze. You get very smart when you are dying.
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