Saga that kept world on edge
THE different ways of seeing things, Eastern and Western, was on display as foreign media tried to push Thai rescue leaders on what would have happened had one of the main pumps draining the cave — which stopped working just as the last of the 13 Wild Boars and the divers exited — failed just a few hours earlier.
There were still up to 100 workers in chambers 2 and 3 of the Tham Luang cave when the pump gave out. Water started rising, sending them hurtling to the entrance in a semi-panic.
“What would have happened if the pump had failed earlier?” a Western journalist asked. The military chiefs and governor shifted on their seats, looking at each other. The Buddhist philosophy on worry is that it is pointless, and they weren’t about to start now. The boys were safe, weren’t they?
Rear Admiral Apakorn Youkongkaew shrugged. “Well, the pump did fail,” he said. “But we had a back-up plan. And everyone was out of the cave by then. Try to look at it as like a big moment at the end of an action movie — it was exciting.”
It was a ripping script. So much so that the Australian Federal Police media guy in Chiang Rai said he was being harangued day and night by Hollywood types looking to sign up Adelaide anaesthetist Richard Harris, 53, the heroic cave-diving doctor who is a natural for the lead character.
Dr Harris, however, believes the real heroes are the Moo Pa, or Wild Boar soccer team, the 12 boys who, with their junior coach, entered the cave on June 23 on a postgame excursion, only to find themselves probing too deep and caught by rising waters.
Dr Harris told Malcolm Turnbull: “They’re the toughest blokes and kids I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. They’re the ones who were responsible for their own morale and really their own safety. Without them being in the state they’re in we couldn’t have done anything. So that’s where all the credit really lies.”
We still don’t know whether the Wild Boars’ second coach, Ekkapon “Ake” Chantawongse, 25, holds any blame for leading the boys oys into the cave. Entering ng Tham Luang is not of ittself a problem, if you re- main in the huge initial amphitheatre.
But something took them deeper, where they found they could not turn back. Just like e the failed pump, it is not ot something the Thais are dwelling on. They are en-enjoying the moment.
“The children shouldd not be blamed for the incident,”t,” said Governor Narongsak Osotthasotthanakorn, who became thehe face of the rescue. “Are they villains or heroes? We think they’re just little kids, doing kids’ stuff, and accidents happen.”
The Thais moved into action to rescue the boys, deploying the Royal Navy SEALs. Meanwhile, in countries across the world, people who thought they could offer help were stirring and thinking about getting to the scene.
The SEALs walked and swam for 3km till they reached a T-junction in the network known as Sam Yak. “There, we found the footprints of the kids,” Apakorn said. And there began the beginnings of belief.
Still, Sam Yak was flooded and the SEALs did not have cave skills. “We found our strengths and got the greatest divers in the world to come and help us.”
British cave divers RRick Stanton and John Volanthen had arrived. On Monday, July 2, they went through Sam Yak, feeling their way through black water for five hours.
And then came the first of two miracles. The divers shone their torches on an incredible scene at a place 1700m beyond Sam Yak: not bodies, but humans, children and coach, huddled on a meagre 5m x 2m ledge. Cold, weak, anxious. But alive. All of them. The words are now famous: “How many of you? Thirteen? Brilliant!”
Back at chamber 3, Deputy SEALs commander, Captain Anan Sudawan, knew he had to send the boys food, water and foil blankets — and the comfort of company — as they planned their rescue.
Medics had anticipated the team might all be suffering
pneumonia, but they had a bigger problem — the boys were using up oxygen fast.
There was no turning back. “Oxygen was decreasing and the kids were becoming drowsy,” Apakorn said. “What were we to do? We had such time constraints. Finally, we got a plan from the international divers. I’m so glad. We approved it.”
It involved placing hundreds of oxygen cylinders and a guide rope along the route, along with pulleys to transport the tanks for some of the journey. It was not especially scientific — it was desperate.
The early talk of the kids spending “months” in the cave was no longer viable. They had to move, fast. Narongsak declared Sunday, July 8, to be “DDay”. The extraction was on.
Dr Harris, with three Thai SEALs, was sent in to clear the first four boys for rescue. That involved Dr Harris giving a mild anxiolytic sedative so the boys, most of whom could not swim, did not panic. They would wear fully contained wetsuits and face masks, with no mouthpiece, meaning they were relaxed as they were transported to safety.
By now, three core pump teams were working overtime, draining and diverting millions of litres of water from the cave. The difficult 1700m dive-swim trek from Sam Yak to the ledge was now mostly walkable, with only 350m of diving required. The daily forecasts were for heavy rain. And it was falling — but not as much as predicted.
The rescue of the first four boys on Sunday was first known to the world by various spies in the cave who tipped off media. Best source of all was a digital portal known as MThai, which had the full inside running and was always accurate.
They revealed the boys coming out, one by one, by posting the words “Ood … Ood … Ood … Ood”. That’s Thai for oink: the little boars were coming out. On Monday afternoon, another four oinks. The extraction had moved much faster than on the previous day, as the rescuers learnt how to streamline their operation.
The following day, things moved even faster.
Eventually, across the three days, there would be 12 “oinks” followed by a message, on Tuesday afternoon, denoting that the final Boar was out. “Hello coach Ake,” it read.
Jubilation hit northern Thailand and, only moments later, the planet.