All language subtitles for Air.Disasters.S06E10.Ocean.Landing.1080p.PMTP.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-maldini_track3_[eng]

A crippled airliner falls
toward the Indian Ocean.

It has no fuel, no
engine power at all.

Both engines are out.

That's it.

The captain struggles
to do what no one has

ever done before,
safely land a passenger

jet on the open ocean.

Ladies and gentlemen, we
are starting our approach.

We lost both engines.

May-day.
May-day.

Brace for impact.

I think I lost
one

He's going to clash.

Ethiopian Airlines flight 961
is a routine trip from Addis

Ababa to the Ivory Coast.

The captain is Leul Abate.

At 42, he's an extremely
experienced pilot.

Seven 300 kilograms.

Center tank is zero--

He has more than 11,000 hours
of flying time to his credit.

Total fuel is
14,500 kilograms.

Check.

Ethiopian flight
961 will stop briefly

in Nairobi,
Brazzaville, and Lagos

before it reaches its final
destination of Abidjan.

The plane has just enough fuel
for the first leg of the trip.

It will get more in Nairobi.

Less fuel on board
makes the plane lighter,

increasing efficiency.

switches are off.

Captain Abate and his
co-pilot Yonas Mekuria expect

their day's work will be
over in about 12 hours when

they land in the Ivory Coast.

All clear.

That day was a bright
day, clear skies.

Everything was fine.

The passengers on
board 961 are a mix

of Ethiopians and travelers
from other countries flying

for business and pleasure.

Michael Oddenyo,
seated in economy class,

is a Kenyan businessman on
his way home to Nairobi.

I spent the whole of Friday
trying to get on that flight,

calling the airline
every hour or so.

I remember Friday
night, about 11 o'clock,

I called them again,
and they said, look,

just come to the airport.

We'll see if we can
find a seat for you.

So I sometimes feel like I
put myself on that aircraft.

Near the front of the
plane, American Frank Huddle

is also getting settled in.

He's the United States
consul general in Bombay.

My wife Pam and myself
decided to take a trip

to Africa and go on safari.

I wanted a daytime flight
because it was safer,

so I picked Ethiopian Airlines,
which had a good reputation.

It was one of the two
carriers in all of Africa

that was FAA certified.

A few rows ahead of them
is Mo Amin, a legendary news

cameraman and journalist.

He's a well-known personality,
especially in Ethiopia.

In 1984, Amin captured images
which shocked the world.

His pictures of the
Ethiopian famine

sparked an outpouring
of aid, which

helped pull Ethiopia back
from the brink of starvation.

Mo Amin was, I think,
the most famous news

cameraman of his time and
also one of the strangest

of characters.

Amin is known for never
backing down in a fight.

He has stuck his
nose and his camera

into conflict across Africa.

While filming in
Ethiopia, he even

lost his arm in a bomb blast.

Today, he's returning
home to Nairobi

after a brief business trip.

By the time all the
passengers are on board,

Flight 961 is
carrying 175 people.

Not only is Captain
Abate used to this route,

but he's also very comfortable
with this aircraft.

Lead one.

He and other members
of Ethiopian Airlines

call it Zulu.

As the plane climbs
into the sky,

three young Ethiopian men
have settled into their seats.

All are in their mid-20s.

The plane is bound
for Nairobi, but it's

not where these passengers
are planning to go.

We took off.

Everything was fine.

The cabin crew called us.

She asked if we want to have
coffee or tea or whatever.

Yeah, thank you.

Coffee?

Make it two.

The plane is
flying at 39,000 feet

when the three young
Ethiopians make their move.

When I heard a noise at the
back, somebody was shouting,

and when I looked back, he was
running up towards the front,

pushing the air hostesses away.

There were two guys zipping
down the plane, yelling

something incomprehensible.

Then guys gliding down
silently came right after them,

and I said, oh,
it's a hijacking

because they're coordinated.

Initially, we sort of
just looked at each other

and wondered what was going on.

People didn't say
much immediately.

There was some kind
of noise in the cabin,

and I heard the cockpit door
slamming open, just bang.

Three men barged
through the door

and armed themselves
with a cockpit

fire ax and fire extinguisher.

Get out.

Get out.

There was a little
confusion up in the front

as if they were
attacking the pilots.

There were three guys.

They were shouting.

They came straight
to the co-pilot,

and they started hitting him.

Get up.

There's 11 of us.

If you don't do what
we say, we'll blow

this plane out of the sky.

I told them OK,
don't hurt him.

I'll do whatever you want.

Passengers near the
front of the plane

are concerned but have
no idea what's going on.

Captain Leul Abate is
facing the hijackers alone.

Unlike most pilots, though,
Abate has some experience

in a situation like this.

He has been hijacked
twice before.

The first hijack
was a local flight,

and then two hijackers
who had a hand grenade

came into the cockpit, and they
forced us to fly to Nairobi.

Abate's second hijacking
was just a few years later

when he was piloting a 737.

The hijackers, again,
held the hostess hostage,

and they came into the cockpit.

They told me it was
a hijack, and they

want to fly to Sweden.

No one was hurt or killed
in either of those incidents.

In both cases, Captain
Abate had landed safely.

But the turbulent political
situation in the region

means hijacking is an
unpleasant reality.

From 1990 to 1996, 10
Ethiopian Airlines planes

had been hijacked.

This time, though,
the hijackers

make a very unusual request.

Fly to Australia.

What?

Fly us to Australia.

We don't have enough
fuel to get to Australia.

It's too far.

We can go to Nairobi, or
Zanzibar, or Dar Es Salaam,

and then refuel, and
then go to Australia.

In fact, the jet took off
with just three and a half

hours' worth of fuel.

But the hijackers
don't know that.

They've been reading
the in-flight magazine,

which tells them the maximum
flying time of a 767.

11 hours.

It won't take more than 10
hours to get to Australia.

I don't have
10 hours of fuel.

It says 11 hours.

We don't carry
that much fuel.

We only carry what we need.

They thought I was bluffing.

They were convinced
that the airplane

was able to fly to Australia.

Abate is shocked.

No one else in the
plane knows what

the hijackers are demanding.

If he does what they say, his
plane will crash in the ocean.

If he doesn't, they say
they'll blow it out of the sky.

The passengers
have no idea what

the hijackers are demanding.

Word spreads of a hijacking
but not at their destination.

Flight attendants feed some
of the children on board

and keep working
as best they can.

We started to ask the
stewards what was going on,

and they indicated that
there was a hijacking.

It was as if
nobody wanted to sort

of rile the hijackers
because they

hadn't slapped people around.

It wasn't a sort of a
Middle-Eastern-style

where they shoot somebody
in the head to make a point.

They were basically leaving
the passengers alone,

provided that we
didn't do anything,

and that was enough for us.

This is how
much fuel we have.

If we had fuel for 11 hours,
it would say 60,000 kilograms,

but we don't carry
that much fuel.

We only carry what we need.

The hijackers seemed to
think that Abate is bluffing.

We have a bomb.

Yes, if you don't do
what we tell you to,

we will blow this
plane out of the sky.

Abate knows he's trapped.

If he fights the hijackers,
they may blow up his plane.

If he does what they want,
he'll run out of fuel.

My feeling tells me
that it's not a real bomb,

but there is no way that
I can challenge that.

One of them has a fire ax.

That is good enough
to do serious damage.

And if I'm not
alive, everybody's

not alive, that's it.

I want to talk
to the passengers.

After about half an
hour, the hijackers

came on the public
address system,

and they made an
announcement that they

have taken over the plane.

And if anybody tried
anything, they had one bomb,

and they were going
to blow it up.

The announcement is made in
Amharic, French, and English.

The policy at
that time was we

should follow the
hijackers' instruction.

That was before 9/11.

And every action
taken is to be taken

on ground, not in flight.

Pilots are trained
to fly, not to fight.

We were following sort
of the standard script

as it were for passengers,
which was to stay out of it,

keep quiet, keep cool,
let them sort it out,

get the plane on the ground.

For years, Clint Van
Zandt was the FBI'S

chief hostage negotiator.

What made this
hijacking so unique

is that the pilot in
command had been the victim

of two previous hijackings.

His success rate was 100%.

He probably had a
predisposition to this will

end like the other two did.

I'll be able to get
it on the ground,

the authorities
will deal with it.

Captain Abate knows this
situation is different.

Instead of another
destination in Africa,

the hijackers want
to go to Australia.

Abate knows that heading
out into the open ocean

could be a death sentence.

Captain Abate
decides to get help.

I have to call
air traffic control.

Why?

Because there will be asking
why we are changing direction.

Tell them you've
been hijacked,

and tell them
where we are going.

Addis area control, this
is Ethiopian Airlines--

Since the plane is
still over Ethiopia,

Abate contacts Addis
Ababa area control.

Addis, Ethiopian 961, there
are passengers in the cockpit.

Say again, 961.

Addis, 961, we
have been hijacked.

We have orders to
divert to Australia.

961, Australia, understood.

Confirm your souls on board.

Souls on board, 175.

961, 175 souls on board.

As the aircraft flies
South, Addis Ababa

passes the captain over to
Nairobi air traffic control.

ETH Nairobi
Center, confirm you

are going to land Australia.

Gentlemen, we
can't make Australia.

We only have two hours of fuel.

We can't make it Australia.

We will make a water landing.

ETH 961, confirm you
can't divert to Mombasa.

They refuse to land
anywhere other than Australia,

so we have no choice.

Except when we finish our
fuel, we will land on water.

But with two hours of fuel,
you can't make Australia.

Why don't you land Mombasa?

OK, just a minute.

Abate connects
air traffic control

to the cockpit speakers.

OK, I just wanted
our hijackers to hear

what you are communicating.

OK.

And if you have anything to
say, go ahead and tell them.

OK.

I am advising you that
with two hours of fuel,

you will be unable to
reach your destination,

and probably, you would
have to land on the water.

The solution is for
you to land in Mombasa.

Go ahead.

The hijackers of ETH 961, if
you have copied, go ahead.

Waiting to talk.

Stand by.

Do you want to talk to them?

OK, they say they
don't want to talk.

They're not willing to
negotiate on any terms.

Confirm they are ready to
land in the ocean and drown.

Do you have another
alternate aerodrome?

Please advise.

I have no
alternate aerodrome.

Sir, I'm in a
very tight corner.

Enough talk.

We will not negotiate.

That's bull .

That's bull .

They said follow
our instruction,

if you don't, we'll
blow the airplane up.

That's it.

Ethiopia 961, Nairobi
control, do you read?

There will be no
more communications

between the aircraft
and air traffic control.

An hour has passed since the
beginning of the hijacking.

No one knows exactly what
is going on at the cockpit.

For the rest of the
passengers and crew,

the flight has settled
into an uneasy routine.

We went generally
South, and there was

an eerie, edgy, nervous calm.

Nobody is talking
much, and people

are in their own little
individual worlds.

With only a
fraction of the fuel

needed to get to
Australia, Abate

decides to defy the hijackers.

Without their knowledge,
he continues South instead

of East towards Australia.

I started following
the African coastline

because in case
anything happens,

we will have a place
to ditch or land

safely because most of the
cities are by the coastline.

But with a glance
of the window,

the hijackers suddenly
realize they've been tricked.

I still see land.

Turn the plane.

Now, Captain
Abate has no choice.

He turns his plane East
over the open ocean.

As the ocean unfolds
below him, the captain

begins forming another plan.

I had no chart nearby because
it was on the co-pilot's side.

So I had a small atlas,
so I took that atlas,

and I saw the Comoros Island.

Nestled between the African
continent and the island

of Madagascar is
their only hope,

the Comoros Islands, a
remote vacation playground

in the Indian Ocean.

I had no idea
where that place was.

I never heard of the
word Comoros before.

I just headed towards it.

It was a guess.

The Comoros Islands are his
last chance to land safely.

We sat, and we just
sat and sat for hours.

I tried to read the newspaper
but couldn't concentrate

on it because I was nervous.

I wondered how
much extra fuel we

had because the
rule of thumb is you

have enough for the
alternative airport,

and they're supposed to have
an extra 45 minutes of fuel

beyond that.

So roughly three hours or
so of fuel they had to have.

And so, after we had
flown three hours,

I began to get nervous.

Suddenly, an alarm breaks the
tense silence in the cockpit.

It's a warning that
the plane has less

than 30 minutes of fuel left.

I need to tell
the passengers.

There's no need.

You know what I'm
going to tell them?

It's out of my control.

The aircraft is going to crash.
- Do you want to die?

We're going to die anyway.

So shall we kill you?

No more talking.

Don't worry.

I have the ax.

Please, at least let us
attempt a controlled landing.

I will die along with him.

I will show him
that I have guts.

It's finished.

We will die together.

With almost no fuel, Abate
decides to make his stand.

We came over to the island.

By then, fuel was running out.

I decided, no, we should not
go any further than this one,

and I started
circling that area.

But how can he convince the
hijackers to let him land?

He'll have to find
an answer soon,

or flight 961 will
crash into the sea.

At stake, the lives of
all 175 people on board.

They took whisky
from the duty-free,

and they wanted me to drink,
actually, but I refused.

Once again, alarms sound.

One engine is now
completely out of fuel.

It's shutting down.

Captain Abate is quickly
running out of time.

With the airplane being at
39,000 feet in cruise flight,

the airplane is
not going to run

out of gas with each
engine simultaneously.

There'll probably be a bit of
a lag, which, in this case,

there was.

The right engine stop
functioning first.

Abate follows standard
emergency procedures.

He starts the APU or
Auxiliary Power Unit.

It's a generator that can
supply extra electrical power

when one engine is lost.

With thrust from
only one engine,

the aircraft
immediately slows down.

At a lower speed, the wings
do not provide as much lift.

Abate must descend
to an altitude

where the air is thicker.

Denser air means the wings can
provide enough lift to keep

the aircraft flying level.

The plane continues to descend.

Even with only one engine, and
despite the drop in altitude,

the tiny Comoros Islands
are still within reach

of the crippled airliner.

There is an airport at
the capital Maroney.

If he can convince
the hijackers,

Abate could land there.

It's gone down 1,000.

When the engine
stops, it descends.

It will descend whether
you like it or not.

Alone in the
cockpit, captain Abate

takes a dangerous chance.

He explains the situation
to everyone on board.

Ladies and gentlemen,
this is your pilot.

We have run out of
fuel, and we are

losing an engine at this time.

We're going to make
a crash landing.

When the pilot came onto
the public address system

and said that he had no
alternative but to crash land,

that is when it
actually dawned on us,

and we realized that this was
a life and death situation.

Captain Abate also makes
a desperate call for help.

We have already lost
one of the engines.

He wants the passengers
to overpower the hijackers

so he can land the plane.

I ask all passengers to
react to the hijackers.

Thank you.

Captain Abate knows the
call for help is a huge risk.

Even though I was
expecting some kind

of movement in the cabin,
but I had to do my job.

I was doing what I had to do,
keep the airplane in control,

fly it.

While captain Abate
waits for action,

the passengers are more
confused than ever.

He said react
against the hijackers,

which is an odd phraseology.

Nobody reacted.

I think part of it was the
way he said it was not sort

of a normal way in English that
you would ask someone to take

on the hijackers,
but he also was

trying to do it enough
so they wouldn't

notice what he was saying.

At least one of the
passengers does understand.

As a news cameraman,
Mo Amin has never

shied away from a challenge.

Amin makes his way to
the economy section

in the rear of the plane.

Here is a man who had
spent 20 or 30 years in some

of the most difficult
and dangerous war

zones of the world, who'd been
beaten up, who'd been shot at,

who'd been jailed.

He was a kind of alpha male,
if you know what I mean.

He could talk anybody
into anything.

He made it like he was
going to the bathroom,

and then he came
back, and he started

talking to people
who were three

or four seats ahead of me.

And from these
gestures and actions,

he was trying to
get us to stand

up against the hijackers.

With your help,
we can take them.

There's only three of them.

Come on.

Come on.

Not knowing
what would happen,

not knowing what these
people were capable of doing,

and, of course,
the fact that they

had indicated that they would
blow up the plane if anybody

tried anything.

Always, always
have to measure,

am I going to make
the situation better,

or am I going to make it worse?

Who's ready to take the chance
that your precipitous action

against the hijacker
might not cause him

to set that
explosive device off

and take the life of
everybody on board the plane?

In the end, the passengers
choose not to act.

Captain Abate is still
alone against the hijackers.

In the cockpit,
the hijackers try

to take control
in a vain attempt

to keep the plane in the air.

It's descending.

Don't worry.

I'm not the one
who's doing that.

Inadvertently,
one of the hijackers

disconnects the autopilot.

The plane swerves wildly.

Don't move.

Listen.

I am not applying any motion.

The aircraft is
doing it by itself.

He was trying to
fly the airplane,

he was trying to
disconnect the autopilot,

all sorts of things.

This is all over.

We will drop in the ocean.

31?

Abate makes another
attempt to explain

the desperate situation
to the hijackers.

Perhaps they will
finally allow him

to land at the nearby airport.

This is zero, and
this is coming to zero.

I prayed to God, I wish
I wasn't in this situation.

Now, I am in it, but help
me to save these people.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please sit down

and fasten your seat belts.

Do not panic.

I am starting to say,
oh, I love you, dear.

It's been a good ride.

My wife is sort of
unsentimental psychiatric

nurse, and she tells me, get
up, stand up, get our bag down

from the overhead, pull
out your extra glasses,

put them in your pocket,
and get some food for me,

and I want this,
this, and this food.

She carefully
picked things that

wouldn't make her thirsty.

She said there's not
going to be any meal

service once we hit the water.

Finally, the plane
runs out of fuel.

So you're killing everyone.

Stanislaw, sit down.

From now on, you
can't do anything to me.

What?

From now on, you
can do nothing to me.

That's it.

Both engines are out.

That's it.

Is this what you wanted?

This $40 million aircraft
has become a 100-ton glider.

The plane is out of fuel,
and Abate is out of options.

A crash landing in the
sea is all but inevitable.

The loss of engine power starts
rippling through the plane.

As well as driving the
jet through the skies,

the engines supply
power to most

of the electrical and
hydraulic systems.

Without the engines,
the computer screens,

automatic pilot, and many
other functions of the plane

stop working.

Although the engines
are now useless,

a low-tech backup
system allows the pilot

to retain some control.

The Ram Air Turbine, or RAT,
is the last line of defense

when all the engines fail.

A small trap door automatically
opens, in the turbine,

a small propeller pops out.

The rushing air turns the
propeller like a windmill,

generating just enough
electrical power

for basic flight
instruments and controls,

including airspeed.

Since it was power
off, that means

there was no electrical
or hydraulic power,

the controls were heavy.

The turbine doesn't provide
enough power for Abate

to operate the flaps,
which would help slow

the plane down for landing.

Wherever he lands, captain
Abate will have to do so

at a dangerously high speed.

Power of landing and
power of ditching, nobody's

trained in the world.

Flying over the water, you
need accurate instruments.

I didn't have any
of the instruments.

Without engines, a
large passenger jet

can glide 11 and 1/2 miles for
every 3,300 feet of altitude

it loses.

At 21,000 feet, the
Ethiopian Airlines

plane can travel
for nearly 75 miles

before it hits the ground.

One of the things that
the captain's got to worry

about now is with both
engines shut down,

the airplane is
going to go down.

It's just a matter
of where, and that's

going to be controlled
by the pilot flying.

It's an extremely dangerous
situation few pilots

in the world have ever faced.

In 1983, another 767
pilot found himself

in a similar predicament.

Air Canada flight
143 ran out of fuel

and landed on an
abandoned Air Force base,

sustaining only minor damage.

In the right circumstances,
a safe landing without power

is possible.

Captain Abate hopes
to land at the airport

in the Comoros
Islands, but struggling

against the hijackers.

On the final turn,
he loses his bearings

and can't locate the runway.

It was within the
vicinity of the airport,

so I was skipping the airport
in my sight all the time.

Then through the struggle,
I lost my position.

I lost where I was.

In the critical seconds
it takes to find the airport

again, he loses
too much altitude

and doesn't know if he
can make it to a runway.

A water landing is
now his only option.

Landing on the ocean is even
more dangerous than bringing

a plane down on the ground.

If you were trying to
crash land on the ground,

the airplane would have a
surface to slide across.

That surface does not
exist when you're ditching

the airplane in water.

The airplane is going to
touch down on the water

and then at some point, it's
going to dig in to that water.

When that happens,
the airplane is going

to try to stop instantly.

In trying to bring
his plane down safely,

Abate faces unique challenges.

Planes such as the DC
9 have flat bottoms,

which would skim the surface
of the ocean on landing,

slowing down more smoothly.

But the engines on Abate's
767 hang underneath the body.

They could act as
enormous scoops,

grabbing hold of the water
as the rest of the plane

plows ahead.

The force would tear
the plane apart.

It was getting
hotter and hotter,

so we started to
sweat because I guess

the air conditioning
system was not working

since there was no power.

And that's when people started
to scream, started to panic,

looking for life jackets,
praying to Jesus,

praying to Allah.

Some ladies were asking
people to go and plead

with the hijackers,
not realizing

that it wouldn't
make any difference

at this particular time.

We didn't have any
fuel, and that was it.

We're going down.

But I guess at that time,
your hope is all you have.

We're descending
fairly rapidly.

The plane is lurching
wildly a couple of times.

They're fighting up in the
cockpit for the controls.

It's my responsibility.

The passengers must
know what's going on.

Descend and
increase the speed.

It doesn't make
any difference.

Please, all the same,
we're going to die.

Please, maintain calm.

Prepare for an
emergency landing.

Put on your life jackets
but do not inflate them.

Some passengers
either don't hear

the captain's instructions
or decide to ignore them.

They inflate their jackets.

I heard a
pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

back in the tourist
class, and everybody

panicked and inflated
their life jackets.

I actually got up
on my seat and told

people don't inflate your
life jackets inside the plane.

At the front of
the plane, Mo Amin

tries a last ditch attempt to
negotiate with the hijackers.

No.

Sit down.

Mo had a desire to dominate
every situation he was in.

In a situation like
that, it would be murder

talking to the hijackers.

He would be negotiating
with the hijackers.

He would be, I'm sure, trying
to get the other passengers

to face these guys down.

But Amin's efforts
have no effect.

The hijackers are determined
to let the aircraft crash.

Then for the first time
since the hijacking began,

Captain Abate gets some help.

The controls, I need help.

They are too heavy.

We told them, guys, now
we are on the last point.

You should sit down and
fasten your seat belts.

They refused.

I never thought I would
ditch in my lifetime.

I never thought I would
lose two engines and ditch

in the middle of an ocean.

Outside in the window,
you could see land

at the last minute,
and we realized

that we were, for
the first time,

that we were near
land but over water.

I used to love that airplane.

We used to call it Zulu.

In my heart, I
was talking to it.

So I said, Zulu,
you can make it.

Now, you should be able to.

I know you'll make it.

I was talking to it.

On the beach,
tourists are stunned.

The horror of the
crash is captured

on one of their video cameras.

The plane is flying at more
than 230 miles per hour

when it hits the water.

Oh.

Oh, my god.

The first bump, fairly
gentle, and I sort of breathed

a sigh of relief, wow.

As soon as we touched the
water, it was quite violent.

Then the second bump
was like a 30-mile-an-hour

auto accident.

I had a feeling the plane
was not going to hold.

The third bump,
I said, uh-oh,

I'm dead, and I blacked out.

Oh, my god.

Oh, no.

The ditching was very rough.

The aircraft broke
apart into three pieces.

The cockpit broke off
and the tail end broke

off, so we started to go down.

There was water gushing
in from both sides.

Passengers who survived the
initial impact struggled to

escape the shattered wreckage.

As water pours in,
people who have

already inflated their life
jackets become trapped.

The water pushes them towards
the ceiling of the plane.

In that kind of panic,
people do all sorts of things

that maybe are not rational.

The life jackets make it very
difficult to swim underwater.

Many passengers can't
escape the sinking cabin.

The aircraft
was full of water.

I have no fear of water, having
done competitive swimming

in school.

And I went for my seat
belt, and I couldn't find

the buckle, so I moved
my hand down to my knee

and found it, pulled it
open, and I pushed out.

And I looked at the
back of the aircraft.

I could see some
light at the end,

and I decided to swim
out in that direction.

As I swam out, one of the
passengers trying to get out

of the seat grabbed my leg.

And I said to
myself, oh, my god,

this can cause me to drown, but
I decided not to fight back.

And they pulled themselves
out and let go of my leg.

And then I continued to swim
out the back of the aircraft

and swam to the surface.

I was really exhausted.

I felt very tired.

When I looked up, I said,
OK, could this be heaven?

Because I wasn't really sure
whether I was alive or dead.

I was trying to tell
the co-pilot to get out,

then he was not there.

Then I said, OK, then it's
about time for me to go out.

I woke up, I was
floating in the water,

and I went, hey, I'm alive.

I look for my wife who had
been sitting on my right,

and she was gone,
and my heart sank.

Then I looked to my left, and
she was now on my left she had

swirled around and swapped.

We were out floating
in the ocean.

You can see what looks
like an uninhabited cliff.

It might be a tropical island.

It's like a movie, you know.

When I leveled out
and looked at sea level,

I saw all these boats,
these tourist boats,

beautiful sails and
all that, and I said,

I must still be on Earth.

As I swam towards the
beach, I saw this passport,

which was a Kenyan passport.

And I stopped and
opened the passport,

and believe it or
not, it was mine.

So I took the
passport and folded it

and put it in my pocket
and continued to swim.

Oddenyo makes his way to
a floating panel of cargo

that's burst loose
from the plane.

He pulls himself on top
and waits for rescue.

The plane was destroyed,
ripped into several pieces.

I saw things scattered around
me, the tail of the airplane

far away from me.

I never expected something
like would happen.

All I was expecting was to
evacuate the passengers safely

and myself.

Abate swims to safety,
but he has no idea

how successful he's been.

He doesn't know whether any of
his passengers have survived

or what's happened
to the hijackers.

For those who
survive the crash,

Abate's decision to ditch
the plane near the shore

means that although the
airliner breaks into pieces,

it doesn't sink very far.

Come on.

Fortunately, the
water was very shallow.

In some cases, people
were able to get out.

Locals and tourists swarm
out to the downed aircraft.

A group of scuba
divers, who narrowly

missed being hit
by the aircraft,

help with the rescue effort.

In an amazing
stroke of good luck,

some French doctors are
staying at the resort.

They offer immediate
medical assistance.

In the end, of the 175
people on board the plane,

50 survive.

Without the actions of Abate,
many more could have died.

With no power and
unable to use his flaps,

Captain Abate lands
at 230 miles per hour,

over 60 miles per hour
above the normal landing

speed of a 767.

Once the captain made the
decision that he had to ditch,

the best thing that he could
do was keep the airplane

as close to land as possible.

Abate also tried to make the
landing as smooth as possible.

At the last moment,
he turned the jet,

hoping to land
parallel to the waves

instead of crashing into them.

As soon as the
plane hit the water,

it was ripped out
of Abate's control.

The airplane touched
down left wing low,

so the left wing actually
grabbed the water.

The 767's massive low-slung
engine dug into the water,

spinning the plane around.

The airplane
would have wanted

to turn around that
left wing or cartwheel.

That's a lot of energy to
dissipate very quickly.

That's what caused
the break up sequence.

The airplane broke up
into four or five pieces,

and that's what caused
a lot of the fatalities.

Panic may also
have contributed

to the number of deaths.

Disregarding Abate's
instructions,

many passengers inflated
their life jackets.

The life vest wants
to keep you buoyant

or try to drive
you straight up,

and that could hamper
and restrict your ability

to get out of your seat.

In some cases, people were
still strapped in their seat

when the airplane sank, and
they unfortunately drowned.

Mo Amin, who had tried
to rally the passengers

against the hijackers
was standing

up when the plane crashed.

He was probably thrown against
a bulkhead, dying instantly.

Mo had survived everything.

He had more than nine lives.

And the idea that
he should just

be on an ordinary
standard flight

when the kind of news story
that he wasn't aware of,

hadn't been assigned
to caught up with him,

and to be killed in
this way, has a kind

of horrid irony about it.

The hijackers, who refused
to sit for the landing,

also died in the crash.

In the days
after the disaster,

other pieces of the
puzzle become clearer.

Despite claims by the hijackers
that there were 11 of them,

in fact, there were
only three, but who

were these desperate men,
and what were their motives?

They were imprisoned,
thrown in jail,

persecuted, and tortured
by the government.

They didn't specify which
government, at least

to the best of
my understanding,

and that they had
escaped from jail,

and that they were
going to make history.

They said they have
friends in Australia,

and they want to get
united with them.

They wanted to go
into a second country

where they get
the refugee status

and have a better living.

Before 9/11, it was
remarkably easy for hijackers

to gain access to pilots.

If you don't do what
we say, we'll blow

this plane out of the sky.

Despite numerous hijackings
over the previous two decades,

most airlines made no attempt
to secure the cockpit.

Do you want to die?

We're going to die anyway.

So shall we kill you?

The hijackers
of Flight 961 were

never linked to
any terrorist group

or political organization.

Whatever their
reasons, their crime

demonstrated the great danger
posed by a hijacker who places

no value on his own life.

We will die together.

For years, there
were people in security

saying we have to strengthen
that cockpit door.

We have to be able
to exclude anyone

from coming through
that door and getting

control of that aircraft.

Whatever the reason, whether
the airlines didn't want

to spend money, they
didn't see it as a threat,

it didn't happen.

After 9/11, every
aircraft now has

done that that
carries passengers

that has that capability
of being hijacked.

Nothing is inevitable.

Nobody is immune to anything.

It could be one in a
million, but it can happen.

Both Captain Leul Abate and
his co-pilot Yonas Mekuria

received many tributes for
their actions on flight 961,

including a Flight
Safety Foundation Award.

I said, it's good that I
am alive in the world that

has understood what
I had gone through.

Despite their
ordeal, both Abate

and his co-pilot Mekuria
continued to work

for Ethiopian Airlines.