Short History Of... - Introducing: Real Survival Stories - Tsunami in Sri Lanka

Episode Date: October 9, 2024

This is a taster episode from our sister show, Real Survival Stories. Hosted by our very own John Hopkins, the show brings you astonishing tales of ordinary people thrust into extraordinary survival situations. In this episode, we meet Pat and Pete Etheridge. One tranquil day on holiday in Sri Lanka, the island is engulfed by a wall of water. Swept away in the torrent, the couple will face their own individual battles to survive before they can even begin to find their way back to each other… Real Survival Stories is released weekly, every Thursday. Find and follow the show wherever you get your podcasts. Or follow this link: https://podfollow.com/real-survival-stories/view Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi listeners. Some of you may know that in addition to Short History Of, I also host another podcast on the Noiser Network. It's called Real Survival Stories. And each week on Real Survival Stories, we meet ordinary people who are thrown into extraordinary situations. People who are suddenly forced to fight for their lives. I love doing the show because it transports us right into the heart of incredible stories in amazing locations, whether high up in the mountains or far out at sea, in the desert underground, or even in one episode deep inside an iceberg. And the people we get to interview on the show are genuinely astonishing. I'm blown away every week by the power of the human spirit and by how they manage to get out of these situations. every week by the power of the human spirit and by how they manage to get out of these situations.

So today we wanted to bring you a taster episode to see if we can tempt you to add real survival stories to your weekly roster. If you enjoy this taster, follow Real Survival Stories wherever you get your shows for new episodes each Thursday. Thanks for listening. It's 7.58 a.m. on December 26, 2004. Eighteen miles beneath the floor of the Indian Ocean, two tectonic plates grind and scrape. Over the centuries, the pressure along this fault line has grown. Periodically, that pressure becomes too great, forcing a sudden, dramatic rupture. As one plate slides beneath the other, the Earth's crust is thrust violently upward, lifting approximately 65 feet. it spreads at a speed of two kilometers a second ripping a fault in the seabed that extends for a thousand miles it's all over within 13 minutes a short sharp flash of seismic activity. But way up on the surface, the consequences of this earthquake will be far-reaching and

devastating. The first tremors are felt in the towns that line the west coast of Sumatra. Deep vibrations that send people running from their homes. But these shock waves are merely a prelude. When the ocean floor lifted, it displaced billions of tons of water above it, creating a tsunami. I had no idea of what had happened. I didn't know it was a tsunami.

I didn't know the world was coming to an end for some reason. I've got no idea of what had happened. I didn't know it was a tsunami. I didn't know the world was coming to an end for some reason. I've got no idea. It begins as a barely noticeable ripple in the deep ocean. But as the waves hurtle towards the shore, traveling at the speed of a jetliner, it gains volume and velocity. Upon reaching the shallow coastal water, the drag created by the seabed slows the wave down, but also causes the crest to dramatically rise,

forming walls over 50 meters tall. I twisted around to the right, and there's a wall of black coming instead of the view of the sea through the trees waves radiate from the epicenter of the earthquake striking the nearest landmass sumatra at 759 local time to the north and west the waves continue to surge across the ocean, making catastrophic landfall in Thailand, Singapore, India, the Maldives, and in Sri Lanka, where Pete and Pat Etheridge are on holiday. And then, of course, then it steadied itself. And at that point, I realized that I am trapped. And that is how I will die. 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 ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Pete and Pat Etheridge, a married couple in their late 50s. In 2004, while backpacking around Sri Lanka, they decide to spend some time relaxing at a holiday resort

on the country's beautiful southern coast. But then, on the morning of December the 26th, their tranquil getaway becomes a terrifying fight against one of the most destructive forces in all of nature. There was nothing we could do at all. We were just at the mercy of this huge surge of water, and we just got slammed up the beach. Torn apart, Pete and Pat will face their own individual battles for survival before they can even begin to find their way back to each other.

I just could not believe anyone could survive. I could not see that Pete could have survived. I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is Real Survival Stories. It's December 2004, in the central province of Sri Lanka. An English couple step off a train and onto the crowded platform. With their backpacks bobbing on their shoulders, Pete and Pat Etheridge weave their way through the humidity and the hubbub. Emerald green hills rise sharply beyond the station, their terraced slopes cultivated with tea plantations.

In the blue skies overhead, parakeets circle. Pete and Pat have no idea where they're going, which is exactly how they like it. They've been traveling around Sri Lanka for the past two weeks, with no guidebooks, no organized tours, and no hotel bookings. Just their rucksacks and each other. 56-year-old Pete Etheridge grew up on a council estate in Surrey, England. He left school without qualifications and began an apprenticeship with a local plumber. By the age of 20, Pete's life was already mapped out for him. But then along came Pat.

The really big turning point in my life was actually meeting Pat. She changed my life dramatically. All of a sudden, I found a real soulmate. Our daughter says the reason that we get on so well is because we ignore each other. That's quite funny. But, yeah, we're just there for each other. We accept each other as we are, make space for each other and try and help each other become what we want to be. For all they have in common, their upbringings couldn't have been more different.

While Pete barely travelled beyond southern England, Pat's father was a pilot. Visiting exotic, far-flung destinations formed a major part of her childhood. Yeah, we used to go everywhere. I remember very clearly at the age of four or five going to Bermuda for a holiday. Now we didn't realise how privileged we were. I just was amazed at the colour and the fish and the water and all the magical things that everybody takes for granted more these days.

For Pete, meeting Pat opened new horizons. Young and newly married, the adventurous pair started taking trips together. Greece, Turkey, Afghanistan, India. Eventually, they settled back in the UK, raising two children and embarking on careers as teachers. But their passion for travel never waned, and there was still so much of the world left to see.

Once the kids were old enough for us to start travelling again, then the rucksacks came out. We thought India was still on our mind, wanted to get back there. But we decided that Sri Lanka was going to be a good, scaled down version of India. Sounded like a really nice place. So we thought, well, let's try it. Let's go to Sri Lanka. Two weeks into their backpacking trip around Sri Lanka, and it's just like old times for the Etherages. Pete and Pat may not be in their 20s anymore, but their wanderlust is undimmed.

They've thrown themselves into the local culture, going wherever impulse takes them. We don't follow lots of guides. We just potter about, go to markets, all that sort of thing, and keep it very simple, decide when we get somewhere which direction we'll go and how we'll do it within whatever budget we do or don't have. One thing they almost never do is stay still.

They like to keep moving, to keep finding new experiences and adventures. But on this occasion, maybe a bit of downtime wouldn't go amiss. We decided that we would do something we've never done before, and that's actually to relax. We don't go on a holiday.

We've never really been on a holiday. And so, following a local taxi driver's recommendation, Pete and Pat find themselves on Sri Lanka's idyllic southern coast at a holiday resort called Ganesh Gardens. It was about four kilometres, three, four kilometres out of town. Very quiet, very peaceful. Coconut groves, mangroves at the back of us, nice beach, empty. And they had one little sort of bungalow there, set back a bit and we thought that'll do, that'll do, we can relax.

It's 8.45 a.m. on December the 26th. The Etheridge's have been unwinding at Ganesh Gardens for four days. Pat sips her coffee in the hotel restaurant, a book open on her lap. Across from where she's sitting, a low brick wall separates the hotel dining area from the beach. Beyond a row of coconut trees, the Indian Ocean glitters brightly in the sun. When Pete arrives, he suggests they have their breakfast on the beach. The Etheridge's take their coffees and relocate to a shady spot beneath the palms. It's a warm, still morning, with barely a trace of wind.

The sun is out, the sky is blue, so is the sea. You're just thinking, can life get any better than this? It's quiet and lovely. Then it started to kick off in a very, very strange way. It wasn't a wave. The water just surged. It sort of surged up to waters. And it was just odd. It was just very odd. Not frightening or anything. It was just odd. Pete and Pat jump to their feet as seawater rushes around their ankles. They look at each other, bemused but not afraid.

The receding tide is dragging some tables and chairs back towards the ocean, so they start grabbing hold of the furniture. But as they're doing so, the tide sweeps back up the beach. This time, it's risen almost as high as their knees, and it seems to be gaining strength. As it started to recede, it was trying to drag us out as well. It was a very, very powerful surge back out to sea. And so we dropped the tables and chairs and we tried to sort of clamber our way back up the beach through this water. And as we were doing that, the third surge came in. And I mean, that hit us quite hard.

There was nothing we could do at all. We were just at the mercy of this huge surge of water and we just got slammed up the beach. The force of the water knocks Pete off his feet. The next thing he knows is being washed through the hotel dining area, bumping and tumbling over walls and furniture.

In the melee, he looks around frantically for Pat. As I was going through there, I noticed that Pat was being wedged into a wall by quite a large table. And it was just, it was around her midriff. This is what I saw snap, you know, within a second or so. I could see that she was in trouble.

I got washed over a wall and then it just sort of eased back down again. The surge briefly calms long enough for Pete to regain his footing. Immediately, he tries to get to Pat. He staggers back towards the restaurant up to his knees in water. He spots her across the dining area, the ocean foaming and frothing around her waist.

But before Pete can call out to her, he's hit. I think I got within, I don't know, maybe six foot. The last thing I knew was I noticed the blouse, the colour of the blouse she was wearing. I have no recollection after that. I didn't see it. I didn't hear it. I didn't feel it. I have no recollection whatsoever. I twisted round to the right,

and there's a wall of black coming instead of the view of the sea through the trees. And on the front of it is a body, I think it was Pete, picked up and was doing these spirals at high speed. Just in that second like that, I saw him like him like this you know and really fast. She watches in horror as the wave carries Pete out of sight. The three surges it seems were mere warning shots, a prelude to what comes next.

Pat is stuck, wedged against the brick wall by a heavy wooden table and by the immense force of the waist-deep water inundating the shoreline. Then another massive wave comes thundering through the trees. And at the very top of it, I remember the sun and the light on the azure sea. But below it was this, it was as tall as the palm trees, so about 35 foot wall of water just about to hit me. Acting fast, Pat is just able to fully turn her body around until she's facing inland, her back, the oncoming tower of water.

In the split second before it hits, she manages to take a breath. When it hit me, I just went forwards. If it had hit me when I was twisted, it would have broken my back, I would imagine. But it would have just wrenched me apart. But because I just was able to fold, didn't do my ribs any good, didn't do any of me any good,

but in a way I was safe being stuck there because I didn't go hurtling through the cottages and everything. Pat is submerged beneath 30 feet of rushing water as the ocean engulfs the land. She opens her eyes to a chaos of swirling silt, sand and debris, all hurtling past in the murky brown torrent. The left side of her body is still held firmly beneath the wall on the table. Her right half is exposed, flailing like a flag in a hurricane, her limbs extended to breaking point.

a flag in a hurricane, her limbs extended to breaking point. Sort of whiplash of every joint you could think of. I remember looking at my arm and leg on the right and thinking, I really shouldn't be in that direction. And then of course then it steadied itself and at that point I realised that I am trapped and that is how I will die. that I am trapped and that is how I will die. Pat doesn't struggle. She doesn't try to free herself. The force keeping her in place is too strong. Instead, she draws on her years of experience as a science teacher to calmly assess the situation.

I started to consider, it's all very scientific, I think. I started to consider, well, I won't I think, I started to consider, well I won't drown but I will asphyxiate. There's no way I could be drowning down here because I can't breathe in anyway. I only have a limited time of oxygen so then I thought okay but I've got you know glycogen in my muscles, I've got all sorts. So my body will be retrieving all that now in this situation. But even as she keeps her mind calm, her body is suffering terribly. Soon, Pat's senses begin to warp, distort and shut down. And then slowly I started to lose color and everything

became black and white just like cartoon of some sort I have no capability of receiving color and then I was having thoughts like alright oh so that's it then end of life around path the, the greenish-brown murk seems to turn grey, like a reel of black-and-white film. Losing perception of colour is a common side effect of hypoxemia,

the dangerous lowering of blood oxygen levels. Pat begins to experience strange hallucinations. Images swirl about her in the water Suddenly in front of me It's just like Alice in Wonderland Playing cards

I could see these white cards floating about in front of me But not disappearing from me I realised suddenly that I was moving, and they were moving, and it was these white painted bricks from the corner of the wall. It suddenly becomes clear. The wall has finally given way under the pressure. She's free. Pat looks up.

Shafts of green light filter down through the gloom, pointing the way to the surface. She starts kicking her legs and thrashing her arms, pushing herself higher and higher. And so I realized I was going up. So I realized I didn't have much time. I'm strong. So I just tried to get to the light. Elsewhere, Pete opens his eyes. He appears to be floating in space, drifting through a vast, murky void. Bubbles streak past his eyeline. It takes a few moments for him to register what is happening.

My next experience was waking up a long way underwater, which is the most surreal experience. I just woke up in sort of great patterns of light. I don't know how far I was underwater. It felt a bloody long way. Thinking, I'm not quite sure how I got here and what happened, but I don't think I'm going to survive. Ribbons of sunlight refract on the surface,

threading down like needles. It seems only a matter of time before he'll pass out again and drown. But then all of a sudden, he finds himself caught in a powerful updraft and he is sent rushing towards the surface. I managed to get a breath and then because of the turbulence of the water, it just sucked me back down. This time into blackness because the water had really sort of kicked up the silt. So basically I was just in blackness, tumbling about. It did feel like you were in a washing machine full of bricks.

Pete is flying about like a rag doll, chewed up and spat out again by the raging torrent. He collides with sharp, jagged objects, bricks and beams and sheets of corrugated metal, the detritus of buildings reduced to rubble. He lets his body fall limp as he awaits the inevitable. There was an acceptance. There was, I didn't say it was a relief. I'd rather be alive. I don't actually want to die, you know,

but there's this feeling just going, yeah, this is not a bad way because all I was going to do was maybe my body would run out of oxygen and I'd just close my eyes and that's it. Just drift away. But I suppose the, I quite, I like life. I think life is absolutely beautiful. I just, everything about it, I wanted to see more of it so the survival bit really sort of kicks in and I found I needed some sort of buoyancy and I found myself grabbing leaves twigs anything Pete feels the rough scraping of bark against his skin as he's washed into a thicket of trees. He begins clasping at the branches, using them to drag himself up towards the sunlit surface,

before eventually his head breaks the waterline. Pete sucks air into his lungs. He takes in his surroundings and is suddenly struck by the sheer scale of what has happened. All he can see is ocean. Were it not for the few trees poking up through the water, he would assume he'd been washed out to sea. And it was total silence. It was absolute deafening silence. There was no noise whatsoever. And I had the feeling that I was the only person left alive. I couldn't see anybody living through what I'd just been through.

And of course, then it comes into your mind, I've just lost Pat. You know, there's no way Pat could survive what I've just been through. Believing his wife is almost certainly gone. Somehow, Pete has to find a way to compose himself, to keep battling on. I realised that I had to cut Pat out of my mind. I couldn't worry about Pat. I had to worry about myself. I have to survive. That kicks in. It's me. It's purely me.

There's nothing I can do about Pat at all. She's, you know, lost, gone. I might have to worry about that later, but at this point in time, it's going to be down to me. A few kilometres up the flooded shoreline, Pat reaches the surface with one final kick. She takes a few steadying breaths and takes in the scene surrounding her. I look round and there was no land at all. There were some stronger trees a bit further to the east,

but other than that, it was all water. It was all moving at this deadly speed. And it was a foul colour, very, very turbid, just gruesome. And I suddenly realised I needed to look where I'm going. Pat is being swept along with the flood. As she hurtles forwards, she has to maneuver around treetops and telephone poles, obstacles that appear out of nowhere, looming suddenly through the muddy water. At the speed she is moving, a direct impact would be fatal. It feels as if she is caught in the rapids of a raging river. In fact, she is being carried on the crest of a massive wave, a seismic ocean swell that

has engulfed this entire coastline and is now sweeping inland. And sooner or later, even the largest waves must break. Suddenly, the sensation of floating is replaced by the feeling of falling as the wave collapses beneath her. Pat is sent plummeting downwards towards trees and solid ground. Once it broke, then the whole wave is breaking. So it's going like that. So what happens, I hit the tree and then the whole wave breaks over the lagoon and the mangroves.

And I remember hitting the ground. I was like a huge falling somersault. The impact knocks Pat senseless. She momentarily blacks out, coming to, just as the water scoops her up again. She's carried another indeterminate distance before the next wave breaks, slamming her into the ground with another sickening thud. After that, I don't know what's happening because I'm obviously... How could you stay conscious in that situation?

I was just battered into unconsciousness. Pat rolls in the water like a piece of driftwood. Gradually, her world goes dark and the roar of the water recedes piece of driftwood. Gradually her world goes dark, and the roar of the water recedes to a whisper. Then, in the darkness, she seems to hear a voice, something from her past. My memory is throwing out advice to me, and in the most annoying manner like this very bossy person started to tell me something and I was going no don't tell you no I can't do anything said Pat Pat remember when you're in Costa Rica remember what they told you when you went white water rafting in the safety if you get

thrown out of the raft, you must relax. You cross your arms across your chest and you go with the water. And water always goes to a quiet place. Might take a while, but it will. So you just don't struggle, you protect your chest, you relax and you will be fine. That voice was my voice being terribly clever, Cloggs. Knowing everything and being so clever and being about 12. And I needed to be listened to and she wouldn't let me get away without it.

And Pat does listen, using this memory to her advantage, heeding the advice of her 12-year-old self. this memory to her advantage, heeding the advice of her twelve-year-old self. Drifting in and out of lucidity, she crosses her arms over her chest and lets the water take her to a quiet place. Pete clings onto a branch as the deluge thunders around him. He's been savagely torn apart by the waves. In the chaos, his clothes have been ripped away. Naked, holding on for dear life, he looks down and checks himself for injuries.

My arm had been opened right up from actually my wrist to my elbow. And it was like an open anatomy picture. I could see everything. I could see bone, tendons, ligaments. And I'm just looking at it thinking, strangely, why doesn't that hurt? Why isn't that hurting?

It should absolutely be screaming at me, but it's not. Anesthetized by adrenaline pete lifts his head and scans his surroundings it's clear that the water is pushing inland he can tell from the density of the vegetation to the north that that is where he needs to go he He can't actually see land, though. The inundation stretches on for miles. This idyllic coastline, strewn with fishing villages, thatched cottages, and hotels, is all gone, consumed by the sea. Pete starts looking for a route through the dense wall of foliage.

Eventually, he spots an opening. I found this gap. The only problem with this gap was that it was either this thorn bush had been swept into the gap or it was a thorn tree. And I had to get through it. And that was very, seriously uncomfortable. I mean, I was trying to drag my way through this. When you haven't got any clothes on,

everything, you know, I felt like a bloody pincushion. Scratched and bleeding, Pete slogs on, swimming from branch to branch, treetop to treetop. Finally, the flow of the water starts to settle, allowing him to guide himself through the brackish swamp. The undergrowth becomes thicker, more stable underfoot the further he gets inland. And eventually, Pete's feet meet solid ground. Pete's feet meet solid ground.

Eclapses, lying face down in a tangle of saturated mangrove roots. And I remember sort of laying there. I've got concussion. Apparently both my shoulders have been dislocated. I've got barest broken ribs. My back and my body has been lacerated, you know, covered in cuts. My arm, my foot, my leg is in a terrible state. I mean, it really was in a bad state. Pete lies there, his battered body rising and falling with each breath.

After several minutes, he hears a voice calling out in a language he doesn't understand. He feels himself being gently nudged with a foot. Somebody's checked to see if he's still alive. Gingerly, Pete lifts his head, squinting into the blinding sunshine. A Sri Lankan man is bending over him, trying to communicate something. Pete stares back, uncomprehending. Then he sees the fear in the man's eyes.

He started to shout at me. He said, you must climb a tree, you must climb a tree. Because I'm white, I think he realised maybe I spoke English. And he's telling me, you must climb again, you must climb, you must climb a tree, you must climb a tree. And I didn't understand what he was going on about. Then I was aware of this roar in the sort of background and he kept saying, it's coming again, it's coming again. The sound is grimly recognisable.

A sinister, far-off rumble, accompanied by the crash of falling trees. Slowly, he turns his head. There in the distance is a grey wall of water advancing rapidly inland. He can see the debris tumbling in the froth. Smashed boats, rooftops with TV aerial still attached, cars, fences, and bicycles. A wave of exhaustion washes over Pete. He doesn't have the energy to stand, let alone climb a tree. He simply closes his eyes, hangs his head, and braces himself. It is mid-morning. Pat sits motionless, slumped against a tree in a flooded garden.

She is unconscious. One eyelid is badly swollen, bloody and bruised. Her other eyelid suddenly twitches. As I came to, I realised that the water had indeed taken me to a quiet place. There was water around and I'm just lying there. So I very carefully, hardly believing I was there, scraped my arm, my right arm down my side to touch the ground beneath me

with the tip of my thumb, I remember. And as I did that, coming off my thigh and then touched the ground, I realized the water was only two inches deep and completely calm. With her one good eye, Pat glances around. Everything along this coastline is flattened. As far as you can see, hardly a building is left standing. Piles of wood and rubble protrude from the shallow floodwater. Pat assumes she's the only person left alive. I just could not believe anyone could survive.

So to have survived was actually unbelievable anyway. So I could not see that Pete could have survived. So I could not see that Pete could have survived. And I just didn't have the capacity to do anything except focus on my own survival. Pat winces in pain as she shifts herself into the recovery position. She feels like she might throw up and she doesn't want to risk blacking out and choking on her own sick. Lying on her side, Pat groans and cries out, trying to make herself heard. After a while, she hears the squelch of approaching feet.

She looks up and finds herself staring into the kindly face of a stranger, a local man who starts helping in whatever way he can. And then along comes this lovely man who looks after me. He'd come looking for foreigners who would not have anyone to help them. They wouldn't have any relatives or anything around the family. So he saw me and because I was so worried about Pete, he had great compassion and he started to take control of the situation. The next few hours are a blur. In a semi-cogent state, Pat is loaded into a tuk-tuk and driven down winding country lanes.

At the hospital, there's a vague flurry of gurneys, bright strip lights, and nurses in white uniforms. That night, a surgeon operates on her eye. He removes gravel and silt from a wound, before reattaching the eyelid and stitching everything up. The following day, Patty is transferred to a different hospital, and then another. Every ward, every waiting room, every available inch is filled with the injured. More arrive every hour as the post-tsunami recovery efforts continue along the coastline. Hooked up to an IV drip and heavily dosed on painkillers and antibiotics, Pat desperately scans the faces of the patients being wheeled past her in the corridors,

a seemingly endless stream. But not one of them is who she's looking for. Not one of them is who she's looking for. Not one of them is Pete. Two days later, Pat finds herself at Apollo Hospital in Sri Lanka's capital, Colombo. She checks constantly at the front desk, looking for any sign of her husband. So I was still trying to find, always being on the phone. So I'd be talking to the person who had people coming in, checking all the time to see if any more European men had come in.

But the answer is always the same. And as the days pass, Pat struggles to cling on to hope. That she managed to survive is remarkable enough. That Pete could have made it through as well seems like one miracle too far. Then, on Wednesday, three days after the tsunami, Pat receives a visitor, an Englishwoman named Nikki, who lives in Colombo. She enters Pat's bright, clean room and introduces herself. So there I am in the midst of whatever's going on and this lovely woman, Nikki, arrives and she said, I think I may have found your husband. A couple of days prior, Nikki explains, she was watching a

CNN news report interviewing tsunami survivors. In it, there was a short piece about a man in a hospital in Colombo who was looking terrible and was saying that his wife was lost. She couldn't understand how I could have survived. And so she decided then she would help this one man, and that would be her commitment until he was found. On the other side of the city, Pete lies on a rickety hospital bed. LED strip lights flicker and hum. Flies buzz around his face. His pallid gray skin glistens with sweat. Flashes of pain shoot through his feverish body, radiating along

his bandaged arms and legs. For Pete, the past 72 hours have been an utter whirlwind. The last wave he saw surging his way never reached him. Fortunately, he'd already made it far enough inland. He lay in that spot for several hours, before two elderly women found him and dragged him to a safer spot by a road. and dragged him to a safer spot by a road. Pete sat there, naked and alone, utterly helpless beneath the blazing sun. Nobody knew who I was, where I was. You're in a state where you're in a foreign country, you have no language,

I have no passport, I have no money, I have no friends, I have no wife, I have no clothes. Everything has been taken away from me. Everything. And I felt like I'd been held underwater while six blokes with baseball bats had been beating me. But eventually, Pete was picked up by a passing car and driven to a small village hospital where a doctor stitched his lacerated arm back together. And they got what I'd still think was baler twine and they stitched me up with that. No anesthetics, no painkillers, nothing. And I can still feel to this day my flesh being

pulled together as they were putting these bloody stitches in me. pulled together as they were putting these bloody stitches in me. Pete was then transferred multiple times, eventually ending up at an overcrowded, overburdened hospital in Colombo, where he now lies recuperating. Every step of the way, he's been searching for Pat, to no avail. You sort of raise your hopes, but they get dashed every so often. And every time I get to a place and ask, you know,

is there an English lady here? I gave a description, name of Pat, what have you, and say no. And, you know, your heart sinks again. Upon his arrival in Colombo, Pete was interviewed by a CNN reporter. He told his story and gave a description of Pat, on the off chance that she was still alive and that somebody might know where she was. Sometime after that, an Englishwoman arrived at Pete's bedside, Nikki.

She said, look, I heard your story. She said, you brought me to tears. I just had to come in. Give me a description of Pat and if she's alive, we'll find her. And then she left. Now it's Friday. Pete has lost all sense of time, but at some point Nikki returns to his hospital ward. She tells him she thinks she's found Pat, and she's got a car waiting outside to take him to her. Nikki helps Pete out of bed and into a wheelchair. She wheels him out to the street, where she and the driver lift him into the back seat and set off for

the Apollo Hospital. When they get there, Pete is taken up to an empty room while Nikki goes off. So I'm wheeled into this small room and there's an empty bed there and no pat. Oh well, they tried I guess. So I'm there for, I don't know, five or ten minutes. And then the gony turns up with Pat on it. But it wasn't my Pat. It was another English lady called Pat. And she wasn't too happy with me. She shouted and said, what are you doing here? Where's my husband?

Was this all just a tragic misunderstanding? But then the door swings open. This time. Eventually Pat turned up, my Pat. So there was a huge sort of, you know, tears spilled and how the bloody hell did both of us come out of it? I've got no idea.

Just very, very intense. That's, you know, a sense of impossibility. I remember when I first gave birth to our daughter and it was the impossibility of it that overwhelmed me and this was another impossibility. After a few days stabilising Pete's health at the Apollo, the Etheridge's fly back to England. There they embark on a long process of physical and psychological rehabilitation. A significant part of that recovery is dealing with survivor's guilt.

There's a guilty part inside me that 33,000 people down that coast died and lost their lives. And they were people that had a very hard life anyway. You know, they were living just to survive. They had nothing. Those people lost families, they lost husbands, they lost wives, they lost their kids, they lost their jobs, they lost their dwellings. They lost a lot. I mean, seriously, they didn't have a lot in the first place.

We came out of it and we really hadn't lost anything. We'd lost material possessions that we had that got lost away. But that's nothing. We still have our lives. We still have each other. We came back to England. We still have a house. We have a family. We still have our jobs. And I'm going, sometimes it's not fair. You know, it's really not fair.

The 2004 tsunami was the deadliest in recorded history. You know, it's really not fair. The 2004 tsunami was the deadliest in recorded history. Around 230,000 lives were lost across a dozen different countries. Indonesia, Thailand, India, Sri Lanka and the Maldives all sustained billions of dollars worth of damage, with entire towns demolished and over two million people displaced. One year after the disaster, Pat and Pete returned to Sri Lanka to assist with the relief efforts. What they find is a country desperately struggling to get back on its feet, with hundreds of thousands still living in refugee camps and millions mourning the loss of family, friends and livelihoods.

All they can do is give back in whatever way they can and try to repay the kindness of all the doctors, nurses and civilians who helped them. What enabled me to survive? Well, actually, it has nothing to do with me. It was other people. Ordinary people who, in a time of tremendous stress and terror for themselves, did make that gesture, did make sure that this was done or that was done in turn out of compassion and love.

Reflecting on that day 20 years ago, Pete and Pat both recognised how astonishingly fortunate they were, not just to survive, but to find each other again. The day they were torn apart ultimately brought them closer together. I think you have to be very lucky in life to get the right person, you know. I think it works both ways, but we just, I don't know, we just were made for each other. We've been married over 50 years now and our friendship and bond is as close as it's ever been. It's just remarkable.

Next time on Real Survival Stories. We venture deep into the Australian outback, following 19-year-old Will Chafee as he spends two long months battling to stay alive. After trekking through desert plains and ancient jungle on the hunt for a mysterious serpent, Will's plans start falling apart. Will's plans start falling apart. Out of supplies, deep in the wilderness, and with the weather and the wildlife against him, he must find a way to stave off starvation without becoming food himself. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.

Hi listeners, I hope you enjoyed this taster episode of Real Survival Stories. You can catch me on the show every week. Just find and follow Real Survival Stories in your podcast app. Short history of on Mondays, Real Survival Stories on Thursdays. Why not give it a go?