Real Survival Stories - Hovercraft Calamity: Out of Control

Episode Date: January 29, 2026

Two brothers arrange a day trip to the Isle of Wight, off England’s south coast. Keen to experience a novel form of transport, they travel by hovercraft. But on the return journey across the sea, the bad weather rolls in. With the hovercraft overwhelmed, Andy and Tim Benford will find themselves thrust into the centre of a disaster with tragic consequences. Wrenched apart, they’ll enter simultaneous survival scenarios - each fighting for his life whilst unsure if the other is alive or dead… A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins. Written by Heléna Lewis | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound supervisor: Tom Pink | Sound design by Matt Peaty | Assembly edit by Rob Plummer, Anisha Deva | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's late afternoon on March 4, 1972. Off the south coast of Britain, a strong wind churns the dirty grey waters of the Solent, a narrow strait of the English Channel, which separates the Isle of Wight from the mainland. The day is dark, the sun blotted out by heavy, sombre clouds. Rain falls in fierce bursts from the ashen sky, mingling with the seething waves as they surge towards the shore. A gull screeches mournfully into the gale, a sound filling the sky before it's borne away on the cry of the wind. And then another noise rises above the squall, the monotonous drone of an engine.

hovering inches above the turbulent gray sea, the looming bulk of a vessel heaves into view, battling its way through the driving rain, kicking up a spray of spume in its weight. It's a strange-looking creature, neither boat nor plane, but something in between. A hovercraft. Using a cushion of air to float just above whatever surface it's crossing, the hovercraft is adept to traversing different terrains, both on land and water. But in these conditions, buffeted by the wind and waves, it's struggling.

Inside the cabin, the passengers hold their breath as the sea rears up outside the windows and throws itself against the amphibious craft. Among the 26 passengers on board are two men in their early twenties, sitting side by side on a bench roughly halfway along the compartment. Brothers Andy and Tim Benford watched as the pilot grips the controls, fighting to keep the shuddering vessel on track. Andy glances around at the others. I think probably the general emotion was, gosh, this is quite exhilarating.

I certainly didn't think this is a disaster about to happen. It just seemed quite exciting. here we go, continue on. In the distance, only 400 yards away, the coastal English city of Portsmouth is visible through a drab veil of rain. They're almost there. But suddenly, the hovercraft pitches

with a swell of a large wave and its left-hand port side smacks down against the roiling water. A loud thud echoes through the vessel as it jerks and judders with the impact. There is a moment of unease for the craft rolls back into position and quickly continues on its way. But then, 30 seconds later, it happens again.

Once more, the vessel writes itself. Andy squints through the rain into the frost-flecked swell. Then maybe another 30 seconds or so. And a third time, the port side of the hovercraft slammed into the sea. Greenwater shot up, and then we just sort of hung there. Time seems to stop as the hovercraft teeters on its side in suspended animation. And then, very slowly, it starts to tilt. And he turns to face Tim.

The brothers look at each other, eyes locked. They don't know it yet, but they're about to be torn apart. With his little brother next to him, Tim grips on for dear life. We were at such an angle, maybe 45 degrees, that the gale force wind blowing from east to west caught the underside of the hovercraft and pushed it all the way over. It was chaos at that point. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice?

Welcome to real survival stories. These are the astonishing tales of all of what you're life. astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Andy and Tim Benford. In 1972, the brothers arrange a day trip together to the Isle of Wight, keen to experience a novel form of transport they travel by hovercraft. But after a few hours on the island, the bad weather rolls in, cutting their trip short.

And on the return journey across the sea, conditions continue to work. worsen, jeopardizing the hovercraft and the lives of its 26 passengers. As we ventured across the Solent, it obviously got rougher and rougher, very noisy. The sea seemed to be roiling on either side, and we were rocking about on the hovercraft, even though the hovercraft is supposed to be very steady. With the hovercraft overwhelmed, Andy and Tim are thrust into the center of an often-forgotten disaster with tragic consequences. The brothers will be wrenched apart and forced to to enter simultaneous survival scenarios, each fighting for his life, whilst unsure if the other is alive or dead.

I was just preparing to follow Tim out through this window, when the window that I was looking out just moved down and disappeared under the sea. I'm John Hopkins, from the Noiser Podcast Network. This is real survival stories. It's a bright, crisp morning on Saturday, March the 4th, 1972. Two. Sunlight glints off the waves lapping at the shore of South Sea Beach in Portsmouth on the southern coast of England. Couples stroll arm in arm along the pier and dogs bound joyfully in and out of the surf. Children play on the beach as their parents relax and admire the sun-dappled view, making the most of the unseasonably balmy conditions. The gray-green waters of the Solent are peppered with small boats and passenger ferries, white wakes fanning out behind them as they skim across the jet.

waves. The strait is only a few miles wide, and in such beautiful weather, it's easy to make out the coastline of the Isle of White just across the water. Weaving their way between the crowds, enjoying the sunshine, are two young men, 21-year-old Andy Benford and 24-year-old Tim Benford. They stroll side by side towards the hovercraft terminal near the pier, their steps in time with each other. For the two brothers, today is a chance to unwind and catch up after a long, long separation. Tim has been stationed at RAF Sharjah in the Middle East for the past year, whilst Andy has been training with the Navy at various locations across the UK. Both have come a long way since being schoolboys together in their hometown of Solihal near Birmingham. For Tim, the

decision to join the RAF was an easy one. I was very impressed with the REF during my time at Solihull school and because of the combined cadet force, we were all kind of someone. somewhat led towards that being a career. And I wanted something that was adventurous, exciting, well-paid, and secure. It was an ideal choice for me. I didn't fancy going to university. So at the age of 18 became a cadet at Cranwell. I wanted to fly, but unfortunately my eyesight wasn't good enough, so I plump for supply officer,

which turned out to be a very good choice in the long run. Not all that surprisingly, Andy soon followed in his older brother's footsteps. But at the same time, he wanted to carve out his own path. When he was 16 and going through that process, I was 13 and quite an impressionable age, thinking of what you're going to do. And I can remember going through the thought process that my father had been in the Royal Artillery during the war, my grandfather had been in the Royal Artillery during the First War. And I thought, well, I don't want to go in the army,

because I'm just sort of following down the old path. Tim's in the Royal Air Force, I'd fancy the Navy. The brothers have always been energetic and adventurous. As children Tim and Andy were close, with lots of freedom to explore and play. Growing up in Solihull, gosh, they were different times, of course, that was in the 50s and 60s. Maybe all parents were that way,

but I don't think they knew where we were from one minute to the next when we were on school holidays or weekends. Had a group of friends from school, we'd get on our bikes and we'd cycle away somewhere, be away all day. There was an active childhood, exploring, playing games, building tree houses. But as they got older, Andy and Tim started to find different interests and friends. Because we were three years apart, in early childhood, that's not too bad.

You know, when you're six and your brother's nine, you can still play together. When you're nine and your brother's 12, it starts to get a bit tricky. And when you're, you know, 11 and your brother's 14, you start to diverge. Though their brotherly bond remains strong, Andy and Tim's chosen paths take them in different directions. Now, in their early 20s and forging their own lives and careers, time together is rarer and precious. So when Tim returns from the Middle East to England, one of the first things he does is arranged to go and see his little brother. I decided that I would spend a weekend or a long weekend in Portsmouth

and visit Andy, who was doing some training in that neck of the woods. And so we got together on the 4th of March. And we'd not been to the Isle of Wight before. We're not been on a hovercraft before. So we thought we'd killed two birds with one stone. and take the hovercraft over to the Isle of Wight and do a tour for the day. At the ticket office, Andy and Tim, pay a pound for return journeys and book their passage back to the mainland on the 5 o'clock service.

It's an exciting moment. In 1972, the hovercraft is a fairly new form of transportation, with a wide range of potential uses. By blowing out a large quantity of air below its hull, the craft creates a kind of air cushion, which lifts it off the ground by a few inches. meaning it can travel over land, water, or difficult terrain such as ice and mud. Since it has no need of a port or a pier, rapid boarding and disembarking on major plus points,

as is the craft's impressive speed. It's being hailed as a potentially revolutionary mode of transport, and as members of the Navy and the RAF, it's natural that Andy and Tim should be intrigued by the amphibious vehicle. It's an invention that exists somewhere between their two areas of expertise. areas of expertise. The modern hovercraft's design is the brainchild of engineer Christopher Cockrow, whose first full-scale model successfully crossed the English Channel in July 1959, less than 15 years before Andy and Tim's excursion. We'd seen it grow up as a form of transport. Christopher Cockerel invented it, and we probably saw films of him creating models and running them

across ponds and what have it, and it looks quite fascinating. I suppose, since I was in the RAF, anything that flew, even if it was only a few inches above the ground, or the water would have been interesting. The brothers approach the stationary SRN-6 hovercraft, bizarrely parked right on the Pebble Beach. At nearly 50 feet long and 25 feet wide, the bulky vessel is large enough to carry up to 38 passengers. Surrounded by a voluminous skirt, and with a large propeller on the back, The craft isn't exactly elegant, but it does have a certain quirky charm. After climbing up some steps, Andy and Tim step inside the cabin, walk down the central aisle,

then take their places on one of the rows of padded benches. Tim settles in his seat, taking in the craft's fascinating design. It's got a cabin surrounded by a big skirt, which balloons out and raises it up above the sea. The engine on the back. On reflection, it was pretty flimsy, like a school bus on a skirt. And you could see the captain from the body of the hovercraft up front in his little cabin and windows all the way around the side. So very good visibility of what's going on outside.

Once everyone is seated, the door closes, sealing them inside the vessel. The pilot fires up the engine. When it started up, very noisy. Air was blown into the skirt. It raised up, and then he turned on the fan motor at the back, and it started to move forward down the beach onto the surface of the water. So it all seemed very surreal, but kind of cool. As though suddenly weightless, the hovercraft glides over the solent,

picking up speed as it goes. With smooth, sun-dappled water all around, Andy admires the view out of the window. It was a perfect journey, nothing remarkable. I mean, it was exciting being in a hovercraft for the first time. And we got to the Isle of Wight, and I don't remember looking at the weather before we went. I seemed to recall it was a bright sunny day. It probably was a bit windy, but I hadn't given any thought to the conditions.

After disembarking at the small town of Ride, the two brothers begin their day trip in earnest. They'd take a bus tour of the island, stop for lunch, and a drink at a pub. The brothers are finally giving some quality time together after far too long. But then, quite suddenly, the weather changes. The weather turned very nasty and it was wet and miserable, so it was a bit of a bust of a tour, and we decided that we'd try and get back to Portsmouth early. With their day trip now ruined, the two brothers returned to the ticket office and managed to book passage on an earlier return service.

Then they settle down in the waiting room. There is a brief delay as minor repairs are carried out on the hovercraft skirt. And he occupies himself by people watching. I remember there was a young girl who was full of beans jumping around. She was so excited about the whole thing. So that was rather poignant after the event because she was so thrilled with the whole experience. When the repairs are complete, the passengers exit the waiting room and make their way to the hovercraft, pulling their coats tighter around themselves in an attempt to fend off the biting wind and rain.

Ahead, the grey sea churns ominously, lashed into a fury by the howling wind. But nobody seems too concerned. After all, the pilot hasn't cancelled the passage, and it's only a ten-minute journey. Tim steps onto the craft. I don't recall any concerns before we left. We were rather keen to leave because the weather was so bad on the island and we wanted to get home before dark. I think someone, either the girl at the ticket office

or the captain said it's likely to be a little choppy on the other side, which in the circumstances was an understatement. The two brothers take their seats midway down the hovercraft. The vessel's engine roars into life. Then it rises into the air and begins its short journey over the wind-wipped waves. But it's not exactly smooth going. As we ventured across the Solent, it obviously got rougher and rougher, very noisy. The sea seemed to be roiling on either side, and we were rocking about on the hovercraft,

even though the harbourcraft is supposed to be very steady. There was a strong ebbing tide flowing out of ports with harbour. There was a southerly gale. So you have the wind trying to steep the waves up in one direction, the tide pushing the water in the other, and that's what was causing this sort of boiling sea. The waves and winds are combining to create a unique cocktail of confusion and chaos. The vessel lurches as it's assailed on all sides by the fury of the squaw.

With no seatbelts or harnesses, its passengers cling to the benches for stability. their bodies swaying with the movement of the craft. The sky outside is dark and brooding. It's hard to believe that just hours before the sun was shining over a calm sea. Andy and Tim watch as the pilot in the cockpit grips the controls, desperately trying to keep the hovercraft on track in winds of over 50 miles an hour. The conditions have forced him to reduce speed as he tries to remain steady. The vessel's port side smacks against the choppy sea,

causing water to surge up and spray against the windows. The impact sends a jolt through the hovercraft and a loud sud echoes around the compartment, making everyone jump. The vessel lifts alarmingly as the waves batter its metal frame. But after a moment, it manages to regain its balance and continue its course. Beside Tim, Andy glances around at the 24 other passengers. Despite everything, there's little panic in the cabin. We were being buffeted, and I can remember the port side of the hovercraft

really digging into the waves, so much so that green water just shot up, splashing against the windows. And I think we all sort of looked around at each other, and I think probably the general emotion was, gosh, this is quite exhilarating. I certainly didn't think this is a disaster about to happen. It just seemed quite exciting. Here we go, continue on. But after another 30 seconds or so, the hovercraft's port side snacks against another wave trough. Near moments later, it happens again. I think at one point, just before the accident, the waves were some seven or eight feet high.

I have a memory of sliding down a giant wave and hitting the surface of the solent. The third time that the hovercraft hits the water, it doesn't right itself. The vessel sways precariously at a 45 degree angle, as though suspended in time. Seconds tick by. We just sort of hung there. We were at such an angle, maybe 45 degrees, and then very, very slowly the hovercraft slighted to tilt over. The gale force wind caught the underside.

of the hovercraft. Before we knew it, it had gone over three-quarters of the way. We were sort of upside down. And of course we all tumbled. It was chaos at that point. The hovercraft continues to tilt and roll. Its left-hand side slams into the turbulent waters of the Solent, the collision sending shock waves through the compartment.

Passengers tumble off the benches, crashing to the floor and landing on top of one another entangled heaps of limbs. In the confusion, Andy gets unsteadily to his feet. All of a sudden, he is standing on the upturned ceiling of the cabin. The bench he'd been sitting on just moments earlier is now somewhere above his head. There was no noise. I think that's the thing that I noticed first.

It was just completely silent. There was no screaming. It was just from having the roaring of the engine to suddenly being stopped and just eerily quiet. A heartbeat later, the captain emerges from the cockpit. He is a gash on his forehead, and blood is running down his face. He tells people not to panic. The hovercraft will float. His words help reassure his shaken passengers.

But then Andy feels something wet and cold sleeping into his shoes. He looks down. Seawater is streaming in through the punker louvrous, small nozzles in the river. roof of the hovercraft that are used for ventilation. The tangy smell of salts fills the air as water begins pouring into the compartment at an alarming rate. There was this water just spewing up through these and we were starting to stand in seawater. We were sinking down lower into the water.

It was obviously time to get out of there. It's March the 4th, 1972. Across the grey waters of the Solent of the south coast of England, a squall rages. Sweeping gusts of rain drive across the sullen, overcast skies, and whip the murky sea into a frenzy. And floating in the water, like some huge, flightless bird, is a hovercraft. The vessel is three-quarters capsized, its right-hand starboard side, just peeking up above the pounding waves. Inside the hovercraft, the 26 passengers are still stunned by what's just happened. Only moments earlier they were approaching Portsmouth.

Now they find himself standing on the overturned ceiling of the cabin as cold, grey-green seawater pours in. It's rising fast. Amid the stumbling, scrambling bodies, brothers Andy and Tim cast around for escape routes. Tim watches as some passengers, begin kicking out the windows. Of course, since we were tipped upside down, as soon as you push the windows out,

the seawater starts pouring in. And I remember it being very dark. With every gallon of seawater that rushes into the compartment, the hovercraft sinks a little further below the waves. To begin with, you know, there was some daylight at the top of the window and only the lower part of the window was darkened by seawater. But eventually, as the hovercraft... sank lower end into the water.

The water came in and filled up the inside of the hovercraft, and eventually I think it was up to our waists. With little time to lose, people begin scrambling for the kicked-out windows. Tim soon follows suit, climbing through the opening and diving into the frigid English sea. There is the tang of saltwater and the sting of cold as he swims under water. It isn't long before he clears the hovercraft's skirts and surfaces, his breath catching in his throat.

Scanning the water, Tim realizes that the rear of the craft, its stern, is sitting lower in the sea because of the weight of its engine. So I swam towards the stern of the harvard craft and crawled up onto the bottom of the craft, which was, funnly enough, very flat. So it was a good place to be, and there were several passengers already sitting there cross-legged, trying to hide from. the Gale Force winds, with again the sea roiling and boiling around us. But not all the passengers have escaped the hovercraft's cabin. Still inside, Andy needs to decide on a course of action. He's weighed down by a large coat, and as a sub-lieutenant in the Navy, he's aware of the dangers of heavy clothing in rough waters.

He needs something to help with buoyancy. And then he sees that the benches they would have. sitting on only moments earlier have come loose and are now bobbing in the rising water. He yells out to his brother, hoping Tim can still hear him outside. I sort of called him, I said, I'll push out a bench because the bench seats were now floating, they were just loose. They had life jackets in little pockets underneath. I just picked this bench up and pushed it out the window for us to cling onto, so I thought that'll be a good flotation. device. Hands chilled and slick with seawater, Andy wrestles the dislodged bench to a broken window

and shoves it through the aperture. But just as he goes to escape himself, something terrifying happens. I was just preparing to follow Tim out through this window, when through the motion of the sea and everything, the window that I was looking out just moved down and disappeared under the sea. Andy Staggers as the hovercraft rolls to its left, water sloshing with a sudden movement. In just seconds, circumstances have gone from bad to desperate. With the cabin now fully capsized, his only escape route is gone, submerged beneath the surface of the solent. The compartment is flooding fast. I found myself standing in the darkness. By this stage, I was up to my waist in sea water.

I see water climbs around Andy, soaking through his clothes and chilling him to the bone. Swiftly, he wade through the floating debris and retreats into an air pocket, water and darkness pressing in all around him. He's cut off from his brother, with his planned escape route now beneath the surface of the sea. And in the blackness, the water just continues to rise. Up above, separated from Andy by just a few inches of metal. Tim has problems of his own.

The underside of the hull was pretty much undisturbed. It was as flat as a pancake, and in one piece there were no holes in it. Just around us was the sea and the waves and the gale-force wind blowing hard, and trying to stay on the hull was a job in itself. He clings to the slippery underbelly of the capsized craft, skidding along its slick surface, trying not to tumble back into the hole. the waves. Whenever he can, Tim scans the swell for a sign of his younger sibling. But the sea is empty. Andy is nowhere to be seen. Should he wait or go back for him? I know today I feel guilty

that I, as the older brother, didn't wait for him to get out first. It must have been that I either didn't know or he was so accomplished as a submariner that I wasn't worried that he wasn't going to be right behind me. Back inside the overturned hovercraft, Andy has a choice to make. He can wait and hope rescue will arrive in time, or he can swim out through the submerged window. There's no contest. He's going to act.

And it's at this point that his experience in the Navy comes to the fore. Andy has recently completed what's known as a helicopter dunker training course, an exercise that could now prove vital. You need to have experience of being dunked in the ocean and having to escape from an overturned helicopter. They strap you into this shell of a helicopter fuselage. It's on a hoist above a swimming pool and it's then lowered down and then dropped onto the surface and it's immediately rotated and turned over and then submerged. And they train you to take your time, to unbuckle, don't inflate your life jacket because of course that would impede your egress from the fuselage,

and to take a deep breath, swim out, and to come to the surface. So I went through that training, little knowing that only about three months later, that that would be very fruitful training to have received. Now it's time to put what he's learned to the test. with the water level now at his neck and his pocket of air diminishing and he prepares himself to escape the flooded hovercraft though it would be easy to panic in the dark claustrophobic compartment he manages to maintain his cool

I don't recall being stressed at the time at all and I think this is where the helicopter dunker training kicked in because I'd remember being very calm he takes several long inhales filling his lungs with oxygen. He is going to be underwater for some time. Even if he makes it through the window without issue, he still has to swim underneath the voluminous skirt of the hovercraft

without getting disorientated or running out of air. Steady yourself. Final deep breath. Here goes nothing. Underwater, Andy gropes his way through the murky, flooded cabin, his ears and nose filling with a briny seawater. Pushing his way past debris, he makes for the blown-out window below him. It's his only chance of escaping the capsized vessel before it's too late. Kicking his legs, Andy reaches the space where the window should be,

and swims straight through it without even touching the sides. A large, dark shape now looms above him, casting an eerie shadow over the water. It's the skirt of the hovercraft. With dogged determination, Andy swims forward. focusing all his energy on clearing the skirt so he can surface. He kicks with everything he's got, the air and his lungs depleting as the seconds creaked by. And then the surface is within touching distance.

He pushes upwards and breaks through and draws a deep breath into his lungs the taste of salt on his lips. I was about, I suppose, 15 feet away from the upturned hovercraft, And as I turned to look at the hovercraft, I could see Tim and he was looking towards me. I mean, that connection was quite eerie. He knew where to look. The brothers lock eyes.

The relief is palpable. Battling the heaving swell, and he swims across to the capsized hovercraft. He hauls himself onto the upturned vessel. His wet clothes plastered to his skin, saltwater running down his face. Finally reunited, he and Tim, along with the other survivors, cling to the flimsy wreckage as the waves crash over them and the wind whips through their soggy clothes. I don't recall what we said.

I still seem to remember, though, that Tim decided it would be a good idea to start singing to keep people's morale up. I think we were just in a state of shock without probably appreciating it because we were still very much in the moment. In such rough conditions, any attempt to keep spirits up is welcome.

Nobody has yet had a chance to process what's just happened. the speed with which things changed, or the severity of the accident. Tim gazes out across the gray glowering sea towards Portsmouth, their intended destination, so strangely close. Surely the worst is over now. We're just very thankful that we're still alive, amazed that we've been through a very nasty accident, and that we're all together on the hull, huddled together,

talking about what will happen next. I think we were very relieved at this point. The survival part was over. We'd survived it. We just got to stay safe on the bottom of the hull and not get blown off by the next wave and get rescued. But there is a deeply unsettling element to all of this. Not everybody has reached safety.

I know we were very disturbed by the sound of banging from beneath the underside of the hovercraft because there was one woman that didn't make it out. Through the window, she decided to stay in the hovercraft, and we could hear her banging. I think the captain was kind of telling her to keep calm, don't worry. There'll be rescuers soon. It isn't long before the captain's words become a reality.

Several people saw the accident unfold from the shore, including an auxiliary coast guard who raised the alarm. Boats start chugging towards the hovercraft, and helicopters are scrambled. Andy, watched it all unfold in a daze. There we were on a very rough, rainy, windy, March evening, sitting in the middle of the Solent on the underside of an upturned hovercraft with helicopters above, boats coming in, and people just tried to come to terms with what had happened

in a matter of moments, because from capsizing to sitting on the top of the hovercraft, was probably a minute and a half, I don't know. It was all very sudden. An RAF helicopter is the first to arrive on the scene. In true maritime tradition, women and children are the priorities. Not long after, a navy boat grumbles towards the men still gripping onto the sinking hovercraft. Dripping wet and cold, they scramble on board and are taken to land. The survivors are then rushed to a hospital in Portsmouth to get checked over, as Navy

divers attempt to rescue anyone left inside the hovercraft. Tragically, they are unsuccessful. The divers had problems getting inside the hovercraft because of their scuba diver kit and trying to gain access. And so I don't think they were able to get into the hovercraft to aid anybody who was trapped. In the melee at the hospital, as various survivors are frantically treated, Andy and Tim become separated again.

Andy hurt his hand in the accident and he's taken away for an x-ray. It turns out he's injured one of his fingers, but it's nothing too serious. Tim, too, has escaped with minor abrasions. Whilst Andy is being scanned, the police arrive and do a roll call of survivors. Unaware of Andy's presence, they miss his name off the list. This means that while the brother's parents are informed that Tim was in the disaster and survived, They are told there is no information about Andy. In the 70s, mobile phones just weren't the thing.

You spoke to your parents maybe once a month, if that. You didn't tell them everything you were doing from one minute to the next, as one does nowadays. So the fact that we were going on a trip on the hovercraft was not something they'd have known. So there was some consternation when they heard that Tim had been on the hovercraft and had survived, but there was no record of me, because they knew that we would be together if Tim was in Portsmouth.

Eventually the brothers are reunited and their parents were informed that both their boys have made it. News of the disaster on the Solon spreads quickly and reporters descend on the hospital to begin interviewing survivors. Tim is asked to appear on ITV news that evening. Among the thousands watching the program is Alison Hunter. Little does anyone know at the time that Alison and Tim will meet a year later.

They marry in 1974 and now live happily together in Ohio, returned to the UK every few years to see family. After Tim's interview on TV, the two brothers are taken out by the staff for a hearty meal. It's only now that Andy can begin to start processing his experience. I think that's when the sort of shock kicked in, because I don't remember eating a thing. I think at that point the realization of what had happened came to me.

At this point, Tim and I didn't know. know that there'd been fatalities. And it was only the next day when we read in the newspaper that the five people had not survived the accident. That that came home. That was the first time that we realized the severity of the accident. Of the 26 passengers on board, five have died in the disaster, including the seven-year-old girl, Andy saw in the waiting room on the Isle of White. It is the first fatal accident involving a commercially operated hospital. hovercraft.

The brothers are among the very lucky ones. Tim tries to look back on the event with stoicism. He admires the poise with which everyone dealt with the tragedy. We'd used our military training to get us through and we'd survived without panicking. And everyone had behaved very well. The rescuers had done their job. The captain did his and the folks on the hull kept calm. There was no chaos.

Andy, too, deals with the aftermath with quiet composure. It's interesting that after this accident, I didn't really talk about it to people for whatever reason. It wasn't something I went around talking about, maybe because I thought, well, I've come through that, let's go on with life. The only impact it did have on me is that I just wouldn't change my travel plans. For that journey, we had decided to change. our plans. We were going to go back on the 5 o'clock hovercraft trip and we went back earlier.

For years, many years after that, if I was going on a flight and I arrived at the airport and they say, oh, you can get on an earlier flight, I would say, no, no, thanks, I'm fine. I'll stay on the one on which I'm booked. For a long time after the incident, Andy keeps his pink hovercraft ticket in his wallet as a lucky charm, reminding him of his brush with death. As for the hovercraft itself. Its fate is not so lucky. From seeing photos of it, our hovercraft was kind of pummeled. It was squashed flat, really. I mean, looking at it now, if we'd known how flimsy it was, we might not have got on it. After a complex recovery mission, the remnants of the craft are eventually retrieved and studied as part of an official inquiry.

It finds that the hovercraft capsized due to a freak combination of meteorological and tidal conditions. No blame is laid on the pilot, the operator, or the manufacturer. Subsequently, it is announced that commercial hovercraft may only operate within mandatory upper wind and sea limits, in the hope that it will prevent future accidents such as the one the Benford brothers survived. But despite that, the hovercraft industry doesn't flourish. Expensive running costs, as well as noise pollution, are factors in its demise, though the capsizing on the Solent may also have played a part. Nevertheless, a passenger hovercraft still operates between South Sea and ride on the Isle of White, the same route Andy and Tim took on that fateful March day more than 50 years

ago. It describes itself as the world's only year-round passenger hovercraft service. The hovercraft was seen as this magic vehicle vessel that could travel on land and water. It could go where it liked, when it liked, regardless of the circumstances. The hovercraft is still a vessel that has a purpose, but maybe not as mainstream as people thought it might be back in the 70s. The terrible accident on the Solent is an event which is still remembered locally. But beyond that, the tragedy has largely faded from the collective memory. In some ways, I feel guilty that I'm here able to talk about it

and to provide this background. But then again, I think it's important that people hear about these things. It is part of maritime history, of the history of the UK and locally in Portsmouth. But it's probably not at the top of the list of maritime accidents in many people's minds, because it was rather a niche event. Ultimately, Andy and Tim put their survival down to their military training and ability to stay calm in difficult circumstances. But there was undoubtedly a strong dose of luck as well.

half a century on, the brothers both remain grateful that they made it through, and were given the chance to go on and experience all the joys life has to offer. Very thankful that we survived it, being able to bring up a family, get married, live a good life, and be able to reflect on this accident rather than perished as part of it. So just very thankful that we got through it in one piece. I do recall that at the time, I really felt that I'd misstipul it. And so, and Tim, we'd come through an accident that could have been fatal. I don't know how the mind deals with those sort of things. I think you either go find yourself suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder

or somehow, as an individual, you're able to compartmentalize, put that aside, look upon it as an event that could have gone wrong but didn't for you. And you take strength from that. and I sort of had a feeling of invincibility, I suppose, in a way, because I'd come through, as a Tim, and all as well. Next time on real survival stories, we meet Australian bushwalker Neil Parker. In September 2019, Neil is hiking through a wilderness area outside Brisbane. It's a beautiful day as he navigates an intricate creek system.

But while scrambling up a picturesque water, After a waterfall, the world suddenly crumbles beneath him, leading to a bone-crunching tumble into icy water. Badly hurt, Neil will be left with no choice but to crawl to safety. A short distance on the map. The reality is brutal. Broken bones, massive boulders and dangerous wildlife will make this 600-meter crawl a harrowing test of courage and willpower. That's next time on real survival stories. Listen today without waiting and without ads by joining Moisa Plus.