My eyes focussed on the horrific scene before me. The cabin was largely intact, but not as it had been. Windows were broken, the luggage racks had come down and bags and their contents were strewn everywhere. Interior panelling was buckled and broken, missing in places, and electrical wiring was hanging.

The acrid smell of burnt metal and rubber filled my nostrils, but there was no fire that I could see, although the air was filled with dust and smoke.

I tried to stand, but my legs were so weak that I had to crawl towards the nearest seats where I found

Jemima was hanging in her belt and leaning sideways from her seat, the armrest preventing her from falling, whilst her arm hung loosely to the floor. There was blood on her pretty face from a cut hidden in her matted hair, and I feared the worst but took her wrist and attempted to find a pulse.

I didn't find one, but there was no need because as I moved her, she groaned and her eyes flickered open. She looked at me, the confused look on her face suddenly changing to relief as she realised that she was alive.

With neither a smile nor a word, she raised her head and winced as she bumped it on the piece of panel that had fallen across her. I guessed that was what had cut her head.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She waited, considering the question.

“Yes... yes, I think so.”

She put her hand to her head and felt the sticky but drying blood.

“Are you?” she asked.

“I think so.” I tried to smile but it was difficult. My stomach hurt but I put it down to bruising from the impact.

“Hold on to me whilst I release your belt,” I told her but she shook her head.

“No, I'm okay. I think you had better see to your other passengers.” She indicated seat twenty-four.

I turned to see him sitting upright and rigid, pressing back into what remained of his seat. His eyes were staring straight ahead.

At first I thought he was dead, but then I realised he was sweating profusely and trembling.

I turned back to Jemima who had now released her buckle.

“Will you check them whilst I try and get the door open?” I asked her, “We need to get out of here as soon as possible, I can smell fuel.”

She nodded and prised herself out from the wreckage of her seat. I could see she was in considerable pain.

“Are you sure you are okay?” I repeated my previous question.

“Yes, yes, just a little battered and bruised.” She smiled or, at least, tried to.

“Okay,” I said, “But if you are not you tell me, promise?”

She nodded and turned away to seat twenty-four.

My priority now was to get the door open. I grabbed the handle but it wouldn't budge, the door was so buckled that the locking mechanism was jammed solid. I tried everything I could to move it but it was hopeless.

Behind me I could hear Jemima's voice.

“You are alright now, we are down. You are safe.” Her voice was gentle and caressing

When I turned around, I saw she was speaking to the man in seat twenty-four who was crying now.

I went over to them. “Is he all right?” I asked her and she nodded.

“I need your help, Sir,” I said to him directly. “I need you to help me open the door.”

He sniffed a little but looked up and nodded. It was then that I saw his colleague or, rather, didn't. Jemima had covered him with a coat. He had not been so lucky.

I looked at her, but no words were needed as she shook her head slowly.

Quickly, I showed the man what I needed him to do and left him, hoping that keeping him occupied might help him. I didn't imagine for one minute he would be able to open it though.

I was surprised at how quiet the other passengers were. No-one screamed. I could hear groans and murmurs but there didn't seem to be any panic.

“I think we will have to use the front pilots door,” I said to Jemima then paused, gazing at her.

“Thank you,” I whispered, “I would have been lost without you.”

“Funny how it takes something like this to find out who you really are,” she said.

Slowly and methodically, I made my way towards the front of the cabin. It wasn't easy. The aisle was almost non-existent. There was debris strewn all over the place and, as I picked my way through the destruction I checked each seat, reassuring those who had survived and covering those who had not.

At the front, my eyes began to fill. The elderly couple whom I had greeted were still sitting, unmoving in their twisted seats, both still in the brace position, leaning forwards, heads down. What upset me though was that they were still holding each others hands.

I took a deep breath, covered them with some clothing that had been tossed around and focussed on getting the bulkhead door open.

I turned the handle and pushed. That one, too, was stuck! I put my shoulder to it and pushed hard. It flexed and moved a little but would not open.

This door was not solid like the main door, it was a connecting door which led to the short corridor through the equipment area and then the cockpit, so I barged hard against it. Once again, it shuddered but did not open.

“Can someone help with this door, please,” I called back over my shoulder. And seconds later I was joined by a middle aged man who had been seated in the centre of the cabin.

He was quite short and plump, but he attacked that door until, suddenly, it gave and I had to grab him to prevent him falling.

I stared through the open door in disbelief. I was looking outside. There was nothing beyond, just a tangle of twisted metal. The cockpit was gone! Completely! Of the pilots there was no sign and I retched, once, twice then vomited violently. What had become of them, I could only imagine.

I had to think, had to keep going. Those who had survived needed me so I wiped my mouth and returned to the cabin.

The man from seat twenty-four had not succeeded in freeing the main door so the only option was to go out through the wreckage at the front.

It wasn't easy. I expected to help twenty one people through the twisted and tangled metal work and to safety but, in the end, there were just nine survivors who had to climb down through the mess of tangled wires and framework to the ground a few feet below.

Jemima was the last to leave, just behind her neighbour, the business man.

“That is all?” I said aloud, looking around and over her shoulder.

She nodded. “Yes, that's it, I'm afraid,” she said quietly.

It was then I realised just how bad a crash this had been. The plane was largely intact. One wing was crumpled where it had hit the ground and sliced through the trees, and the fuselage was buckled and battered, but what struck me the most was the front. There was nothing at all left but twisted metal where the cockpit had once been, nothing recognisable. I guessed that as we slid off the runway and into the trees it had taken the full force of the impact and Eric and Bob must have seen it all coming as they tried in vain to save us.

I could do nothing but stand and stare in disbelief but then jumped when something touched my shoulder.

I looked to the side as Jemima took my arm and gently guided me away.

“Come on,” she said, “You can do nothing more.”

“Oh, wait, the flare gun!” I shook myself from her grasp.

“Karen, wait!” she shouted, “You can't go back in there!”

“I have to, they need to find us!” I was referring to the search party. “What if they don't know where to look?”

“I will go, where is it it?” I looked around, surprised. The businessman had joined us, unnoticed.

“It's in the... oh.” I stopped mid sentence.

They both frowned.

“In the cockpit,” I finished quietly, realising there was no chance of finding it.

“Come away, Karen, They will find us. This is France, not Borneo.” Jemima guided me gently away from the wreckage.

As I turned, a pain shot through my right leg and I stumbled.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

We both looked down at the same time.

“Oh my Lord!” I exclaimed. Blood was pouring down the outside of my leg from a gash on my upper thigh, about half way between my hip and knee.

“I must have caught it on something.” I stated the obvious, but it was all that came out.

The blood had soaked through the fabric of my skirt and was slowly seeping down through the tattered remnants of my stocking and into my shoe.

Jemima turned to the businessman who was looked intently at my leg, not lustfully but as if afraid that something bad was going to happen to me.

“I will have to dress that and quickly.” Jemima spoke urgently as she helped me to sit and lean against the base of a tall tree.”I need something clean.

Can you find something for me, er...?”

“George,” he offered, without waiting to be asked.

“Okay... George.” Jemima repeated. “Get everyone together, Don't let them wander off and find something quickly. She is bleeding quite badly.”

George nodded and hurried away towards the seven other survivors who were huddled nearby.

I watched as he spoke animatedly to the others. They seemed to be arguing but before too long, George returned.

“I am sorry.” he looked at us most apologetically, “This was all we could find between us that was clean.”

He held out a pure white handkerchief which almost shone against the background of death and destruction.

“He says it hasn't been used and was in his pocket.”

“That's fine, George, Just what we need. Thank you.” Jemima smiled at him and his faced lit up as though she had kissed him.

The was silence for a moment until Jemima raised an eyebrow as if querying why he was still there.

He frowned for a moment until realisation sudden came through.

“Oh, oh, yes, sorry, I will give you some privacy.” He scuttled off to join the others.

Once he was far enough away, Jemima slowly lifted the hem of my skirt to get a better look at the damage.

The cut was quite deep but no serious damage had been done. The blood was now just oozing slowly from the gash and only needed something to help it clot.

“I am no expert.” she began, “I never learned any first aid but I do know this needs a bandage, so...” She placed the handkerchief, which she had refolded so the cleanest part was against the wound. “Hold that there while I improvise.”

Jemima unfastened the buttons which held the remains of my stocking up and very carefully removed what was left of the shredded nylon then, without batting an eye, she lifted her own skirt and did the same with her own, the one which, miraculously, was undamaged, and rolled it down and removed it.

She knelt in front of me and slipped it over my naked foot and began to smooth it up my leg.

Her hands were so warm and gentle, and I was mesmerized, watching her work her way up until she was able to stretch the soft mesh over the handkerchief. She refastened the suspenders to it, holding it in place, and then gently placed her hand on the wound, holding it.

“I, I think that should be enough until we get help,” she stammered and seemed to be shy all of a sudden, removing her hand quickly and carefully pulling down the hem of my skirt.

I said nothing, but for a moment it seemed everything was silent as I looked at her and felt a rush of adrenalin course through me, my heart jumping for a moment. I shook my head.

“No. That's silly,” I thought, “It's just the circumstances.”

“I don't think that will stay for long.” She seemed apologetic, “Maybe it will do the job for now though.”

I smiled at her and rubbed her shoulder. “It will be fine,” I told her, “You are doing a wonderful job. Now, would you help me to my feet, please?”

She stood up and held out her hand which I took and hauled myself to my feet.

I took a step and cried out! “Oww, damn it!” I cursed and again stumbled then shifted my weight to my uninjured leg. 

“Don't just stand there, she needs help!” Jemima called out, trying to steady me and the same passenger who had opened the door came forward.

“Just support her, keep the weight from her leg,” she told him

Together, we hobbled across to the others.

“We need to get away from the wreckage,” I told them. “I suggest we head back towards the airstrip and stay in the open where we can be seen.”

The man and I turned to go but no-one moved. We stopped.

“What is wrong?” I asked them.

A young man spoke up.

“I am staying here.”

“You can't stay here,” I argued, “The wreck is unstable and besides, we need to be visible so the rescue team know we have survived.”

“No!” he may as well have stamped his foot, “I say we stay right here!” He looked around at his fellow passengers, most of whom seemed to be nodding in agreement.

I noticed Jemima open her mouth before I had a chance to speak.

“What is wrong with you people?” She closed her mouth suddenly without uttering a sound. It had been George who had spoken, “This young lady has saved our lives, how can you be so ungrateful?”

There was a shuffling of feet but no other movement.

“Stay here then, you ungrateful sods.” With a flick of his hand, he turned on his heel and walked away.

“I am sorry, Miss, that I treated you the way I did,” he said to me. “I know, now, what an arrogant fool I was. I am just sorry that I had to find out this way.”

“It's okay.” I told him, “You have made up for it by your actions. You are a good man.”

He smiled. “I am sorry to you too, Miss...” he turned to Jemima.

“I forgive you George,” she replied, and I noticed that she didn't offer her name to him.

The four of us walked slowly back towards the runway. I hoped there may be some shelter there, old buildings perhaps. We were quite high in the mountains and the sun did little to warm the air.

I saw that the other six were now following as I thought they might, rather than being left alone, and we followed the scar left by the skidding airframe back towards the tarmac of the old runway.

I was beginning to shiver. Although it was summer, we had crashed quite high in the mountains and there was a cool breeze blowing. I had no jacket, just skirt and blouse. None of us had stopped to collect clothing, and besides, the afternoon sun was warm and the rescuers would be here soon... wouldn't they?

As I hobbled along, leaning against my helper's arm for support, I looked at Jemima walking beside me. She was grim faced but silent. She must have seen me looking from the corner of her eye for she suddenly turned towards me and asked if I was okay. I nodded.

“Yes, just a little cold,” I replied.

“Cold?” she frowned, “But it's...” She stopped mid sentence as she looked down at my leg. “Oh my Lord, sit down, quickly, get the weight off that leg!”

I was puzzled so looked down and gasped involuntarily. My whole leg was red with blood. My shoe was squelching with each step and there was a trail of spots behind me.

With the aid of my assistant, I sat in the long grass just before the end of the runway and Jemima lifted the hem of my skirt. The handkerchief was saturated and could not contain the flow of blood still oozing from the gash. Immediately she lifted her own skirt and tore a strip of fabric from the hem, then wrapped it around my thigh and tied it tightly with a knot.

“I hope that works!” she said, taking my hand in hers then, leaning nearer to me, whispered, “I think we should stay here for now. If help doesn't arrive before the sun begins to set, then we will look for some shelter, yes?”

I nodded, still shivering uncontrollably.

“Damn it!” she said, quietly, to no-one in particular. “Why aren't they here?”

“We are quite remote, I think. The First Officer...” I paused as I remembered his last words, took a deep breath and continued. “The First Officer said that this airfield was abandoned by the Germans after the war. I have no idea how far we are from the nearest town.”

“So what to we do, just sit and wait?” Jemima was beginning to look scared.

I nodded.

“What else can we do? We have no compass. I cannot walk. At least we have food and shelter here. As long as the aeroplane doesn't suddenly burst into flames we can salvage something.”

She looked, no, stared at me for a moment. “All right,” she said eventually, “I trust in you. Not sure about the others though. Will you tell them or shall I?”

“I'll tell them,” I assured her, just help me up.

She smiled then. “No, I'll tell them. You rest awhile.”

“George...” she called out as she stood up and walked off towards the others.

I watched intently as she explained the situation. This time there was no disagreement, no murmurs of dissent and quietly the eight of them joined me and my assistant on the grass in the sunshine. We just sat and waited.

The sun felt warm on my face but inside I just felt cold and my teeth were beginning to chatter.

I recognised the signs from my training, shock was beginning to set in!

I grabbed Jemima's hand.

“I don't want to die, not yet, not like this!” I was shaking violently now. “I am so cold...”

“Hey, come on now,” she said, firmly. “You can't give up now. I need you, we all need you.”

She called to the others. “Come over here, quickly!” she urged them. “We have to keep her warm until she gets through this.”

My teeth were chattering so loudly now I couldn't hear myself think, and I closed my eyes and tried so hard to keep them still.

To be continued...