Aloud Willy said, “Calm down Willy. Take it slow. Now look and work out what is wrong.”
Once he had done that he saw that the seat belt was strained taut by his weight because the aircraft was half on its side. As soon as he saw that he used his legs to push up and ease the tension. After that it was easy and the seat belt buckle popped open and fell away. He shrugged off the other half and then turned to help Mr Drew.
As he did Mr Drew looked him in the eyes and shook his head. “Don’t waste time on me Willy. I’m done for. You get out before she catches fire.”
Willy shook his head. “No sir. I’ll get you out. Just try to lift up with your arms,” he replied. The look on Mr Drew’s face and the beads of sweat on his face made Willy feel sick with apprehension but he swallowed and moved to help him.
Mr Drew did as he was told and Willy used his arms to help lift him to take the pressure off the catch. It took quite a struggle but at last the catch came open with a snap. Mr Drew almost collapsed back down into the wreckage but Willy caught him and held him up. As he did he was horribly aware of a burning pain in his right shoulder and of his left arm and shoulder feeling numb and useless.
For a few moments Willy feared that he did not have the strength to help Mr Drew out. By ignoring the pains and bumps as he moved to a crouch he was able to get a better grip. Then he struggled with a growing sense of desperation to lift Mr Drew up and out. To his frantic frustration both his clothes and Mr Drew’s kept snagging on every projection in the cockpit.
I’ll have to drag him out, Willy thought when he found he could not lift him.
To do that he squirmed and bumped his way around until he could stand and get some leverage with his legs. Then he reached down and grabbed Mr Drew under the armpits and began hauling. It hurt his own shoulders and back, sending darts of fire up and down his right arm but he managed to do it. After a few seconds of frantic hauling and lifting he was able to back out into the long grass and then drag Mr Drew out as well.
But by then Willy felt exhausted and he stopped to recover his strength. Pain lanced and throbbed through his upper body and his chest heaved as he gulped in air. A drip of something sticky into his right eye made him wipe at it with his forearm and as he drew it away he saw it was smeared with blood.
Must have banged my head, he thought.
Then he again smelt a strong odour of hot oil and a whiff of avgas. I must get him further away in case the plane burns or explodes, he thought. He bent to get a grip and found that Mr Drew was looking at him and shaking his head.
“Never mind me Willy. Save (cough) yourself,” Mr Drew croaked. As he spoke flecks of blood were ejected from his mouth to form a pattern of red droplets around his mouth and on his face.
The sight sent shivers of nauseous apprehension through Willy but he persisted. “I will get you clear in case of fire. You will be alright sir,” Willy replied.
Mr Drew shook his head vigorously. “No… (cough)… you don’t (cough) don’t understand. Those men will be here soon. They will kill you. Get going while you still can,” he gasped.
The word ‘kill’ sent a chill through Willy and he sensed that Mr Drew was right. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “I will still get you to safety sir. Then I will try to get help. We must be a good five kilometres from that place and it will take them a while to find us,” he replied. He began dragging Mr Drew through the grass.
But Mr Drew struggled and hit at his wrists. “Stop Willy. You don’t understand. I… I’m (cough)… done for anyway. Get going. They have a helicopter.”
Helicopter! Willy had forgotten that. And even as he straightened up he felt that peculiar vibration in the air that he knew was caused by a helicopter’s rotors.
Helicopter! And I am a sitting duck! Where can I hide? he thought.
A stab of pure panic lanced through Willy and he looked frantically around. Instinctively he ran towards the nearest gully, a shallow washout about fifty paces away. As he did images he had seen on TV of men shooting wild pigs and brumbies from helicopters came to him. Those marksmen had been absolutely deadly, rarely missing.
Where can I hide? he thought frantically.
The buzzing vibration drew rapidly louder and Willy knew that he had only seconds to act. At seemingly the same moment it occurred to him that he wore a white shirt. That will be horribly visible from the air, his racing mind told him. But there was no time to take it off, much less dirty it. Frantically he cast around for something to hide under.
And there it was—a piece of crumpled wing, all white and silver. Willy sprinted for it and dived down beside it even as the helicopter swept into view a few hundred metres behind him. Flattening himself as much as he could Willy squirmed in under the twisted metal, ignoring sharp edges that tore at his shirt and skin.
The people in the helicopter obviously saw the wreck at once as the machine came sweeping round in a buzzing curve which took it right over the top of Willy. He did not dare look up, knowing that upturned faces were particularly visible from the air. Instead he lay flat and tried to steady his breathing ready to run.
To his dismay the helicopter buzzed around again and then came in to what was obviously a landing approach only about fifty metres beyond the wreck. The trees were just far enough apart to allow this manoeuvre with reasonable safety. From in the long grass Willy watched as it settled. Out of it climbed a big man in a white shirt and grey slacks. He was holding a rifle with a telescopic sight.
Willy shook with reaction and fear and bit his lip. Mr Dragovic or something, the owner, he thought.
The helicopter’s engine was switched off and the pilot climbed out even before the rotors had stopped. Unsafe practice that, Willy thought. But it wasn’t the pilot who had his attention but Mr Dragovisic. He was walking towards the wreck, rifle at the ready and eyes scanning the whole valley.
Willy had the hope that Mr Dragovisic might not find Mr Drew, or, if he did, that he would help him. But those hopes were almost instantly dashed. Within a minute Mr Dragovisic had reached the wreck and discovered the wounded pilot. He looked down at him and then bent to point the rifle into the wreck.
Looking for me, Willy thought, his whole body now trembling with shock and fright.
The helicopter pilot came hurrying through the long grass to join his boss. As he joined him and he looked down at Mr Drew he said, “Here’s one. Where’s the kid?”
Mr Dragovisic shook his head. “Not here. Might be back there in the wreckage,” he said, pointing towards where Willy lay. That sent more chills of dread through Willy and he crouched lower in the grass. But then he raised his head again, feeling he just had to know.
Mr Dragovisic looked around and then said, “Did they get out a radio message?”
“Don’t think so boss. I heard them start transmitting so we jammed it. But there should be an EPIRB here and it might have been activated,” the pilot answered.
“Find it and turn it off,” Mr Dragovisic snarled.
Hearing that shocked Willy and he watched with dismay as the helicopter pilot rummaged in the wreckage. To Willy’s dismay the pilot quickly found the bright yellow EPIRB. He lifted it up and switched it off.
“Was working alright, but hopefully not long enough for them to get a proper fix. But there will be a search now Boss. Their base knows they are in this area. This could ruin the whole operation.”
“I know. So ve make sure there nothing to find is,” Mr Dragovisic said.
“How you gunna do that boss?” the helicopter pilot asked as he smashed the EPIRB against