linguistic unbroken project

7/29/2019 Linguistic Unbroken Project

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UNBROKEN ALTERNATE ENDING

Camille Kirsch, Nick Shereikis, and Neida Mbuia-Joao

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Having survived the plane crash, he was in some state of shock that superseded the

physical - spending his time staring blankly out into the depths of the water. While Louie

persevered in a rock solid determination to live, and Phil regained some meager strength, Mac

was a doomed man from the outset, at least mentally. And it showed.

Although Mac was not doing well, the other two werent doing much better. Phil, still

damaged physically, was slowly recovering from his wounds. Louie, trying to put on a brave

face to the others, was very enthusiastic, constantly asking questions, and pretending the events

were not as bad as they seemed.

As good an act as it was, it was not perfect. Although the face Louie showed to Phil and

Mac was optimistic, there were times where even he would sit in silence. Brought on by sudden

fits of doubt, or a reaction to Macs sullen silence, Louie would turn away from the others and

pretend to be sleeping.

All B-24 life rafts were supposed to be prepared in case of this situation. As Louie took

control of managing the other two, he checked the raft for holes and other things. In his

inspection, Louie came to a sudden realization - in the rush to get the Green Hornet out, a safety

inspection had proved flawed. In other words, the raft had three provisions, total: a first aid kit, a

pistol with five shots for self defense, and a tin for collecting water.

This put Louie in a troubling situation. Should he inform the other two of their dire

circumstances? Phil seemed strong enough to handle it, but Mac was another story. Since the

plane came down, he had been struggling...both mentally and physically. Being quiet since the

crash, he was not enthusiastic and probably mentally unstable. If Louie told them the truth, there

was a possibility it would put Mac over the edge. But was it worth it? They would have to find

out eventually, but Louie decided to shelve the issue for now.

During the day, there was nothing to do on their small, 5x5 raft. They slept a lot of the

time, trying to rest. But it did no good. The hot sun beating down on their backs and necks soon

left them parched and dehydrated. Their clothing grew filthy and ragged. Their shoes were soon

discarded, although it was only after an attempt to consume their leather that they were given up.

Without any fresh water, they made a desperate attempt to filter saltwater using shirt fabrics and

the water tins. It was no use. The men became weak, and began to feel dizzy. Phil was in the

worst state, having lost blood additionally in the crash.


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Finally, the subject of food was broached. Not by Louie, who had been attempting to

push the issue away in his mind, but by Mac, the formerly jovial American fighter. These were

his first words spoken since the crash, and it took Louie and Phil by shock, so much so that Mac

repeated the question in the belief they had missed it.

Are there provisions?

One phrase. Three words, five syllables. A simple question. And yet it created the

toughest challenge for Louie yet. Should he tell them?

No, Mac. Whoever prepared this raft forgot them.

Expecting the worst from his comrades, Louie braced himself for the hit that never came.

Mac, looking hard into Louies eyes, simply nodded and looked away again, seemingly caught

up in the same state of mind as before. Phil, tired, verified that he had heard right before falling

asleep.

No provisions? He said weakly.

No, no provisions. No food, no water, no supplies. Nothing. But well be fine. There are

plenty of fish in the sea - literally. Phil, slightly reassured by Louies confidence, smiled wanly

as he drifted off to sleep.

Louie could not believe himself. He and his two associates had crashed a B-24 bomber in

the middle of the ocean. One had serious wounds. One seemed in a state of permanent

depression. And here he had just broken news to them, news that should have been so dire it

warranted at least some shock - no provisions. And yet his partners were being calm, albeit

somewhat quietly sullen. And so, as the day disappeared over the Pacific ocean, Louie laid his

head down to rest, letting the cool wind slide over his sunburnt body like a relief to all the sun-

wrought pain.

__________

At around two in the night, Mac rose from his slumber. The wind was calm, the water

still. The moon was out, a sliver of glowing light against an inky background. There were no

stars out. It was one of those skies that seems to absorb all other light, to suck the essence out of

your surroundings.


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And in the blackness of the night, Mac removed a crumpled, dirty notepad and pencil

from his pocket. Glancing around with an anguished look in his eyes, he lit a match and began to

write.

Rolling over in his sleep, Louie thought he heard something. It sounded like a quiet

splash. He told himself it was nothing and fell back asleep, his mind at ease...as Mac slid under

the water, leaving only a ripple to mark his descent.

As the moon shone down, you could barely piece together the outline of two men asleep

on a raft. And one in the water.

The sharks hadnt come yet. But they would be there soon.

__________

When Louie awoke, he knew in his gut something was wrong.

Looking around, he found Phil staring in shock at a piece of paper, crumpled, torn, and

obviously sun dried after a dip in water. Moving over to him, Louie read the note out loud.

Dear Louie and Phil-- I cant take this anymore. Im sorry. This week on the boat...its

been a living hell for me. We had good times at base, but this is too hard. Im sorry. If you

should survive, tell my parents Ill miss them, and that they were all on my mind these last few

days. Louie, I left my shirt and jacket for you to use as bandages for Phil. Phil, do me a favor and

get better. I know that this is a small raft, and two have a better chance of survival than three. Im

sorry. Im going now so you wont try to stop me. I couldnt have asked for better people to be

trapped with, and I hope we dont meet again for a long while. Bye.

In a stunned silence, Louie and Phil stared first at the paper in shock, then at each other.

Mac was gone, just like that! They couldnt believe it. A day earlier, a few hours, he had sat with

them on the raft. Neither Louie nor Phil had noticed anything unusual about him, no hidden

intent. And yet it was over. Louie and Phil grew even more determined in their conviction to

survive.

They decided to hold a quick memorial service for Mac. Without any supplies, but a lot

of time, they talked to each other. They told stories about Mac, and remembered conversations.

As well as memorializing Mac, the conversations helped keep their minds sharp.

As the castaways time on the raft grew longer, they started to slip away. Phil, already

weak, was losing ground quickly. And Louie, once so positive, was beginning to have very

serious doubts about chances of survival. They had no way of knowing, but they had been lost at


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sea for three weeks. They had survived on a combination of somewhat favorable weather, and

sheer perseverance.

Finally, Phil gave up hope of ever being found. And thats when they saw land.

It was a still day, like many before it. The water was gentle, there was a mild wind

blowing through. The sun beat down on the men in flashes, obscured for periods by the clouds

drifting overhead. Phil and Louie lay on their backs, bemoaning their luck. As Louie sat up to

reposition, he saw it. Land, in the distance. An island in the distance, shimmering in the heat,

palm and fruit trees beckoning. It seemed almost a dream.

Louie shook Phil, physically making him sit up to look. Even though his strength was all

but gone, Phils eyes snapped open when he saw the island.

Land! Were saved!

The relief was palpable. The sighting having put both men into a far better mood than

previously, Louie and Phil sat up, and began paddling towards the land with their hands. While

they paddled, they laughed and talked among themselves - of things to do, past experiences,

tropical fruit. And most of all, about the island. After drifting aimlessly for a month and a half,

after becoming feverish and dizzy, they had finally spotted land. What would it be like?

American territory, or Japanese? Anything was better than the raft. Inhabited at all? They were

filled with anticipation and excitement, becoming almost nervous in their relief.

When they became tired from paddling, it was almost night. In an adrenaline boosted fit

of madness, they had exerted all their remaining strength trying to get closer to the island. Now,

they listened to their bodies, falling asleep almost immediately.

__________

They woke to crashing thunder. The sea had turned as black as the sky, crashing waves

briefly illuminated by the sizzling bolts of light dropping from clouds as big as mansions. Louie

and Phil realized they were in the dead center of a storm.

Grabbing onto the handles at the edges of the raft, Louie and Phil clung to the side of the

raft, holding all loose items under them or in their clothes so they wouldnt lose possession of

them. As the sound of thunder rolled over them, so did the sea, the salt chafing against their skin

and pouring into their wounds. Furious saltwater monsters crashed down on top of them,

flooding the raft until it came bobbing back up again in the midst of the wild ocean tempest.


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Fearing for their lives, the men hung on through the storm. When it finished, they pulled

themselves back onto the raft, happy to be alive. They made sure the other was ok, and talked

happily between themselves. It was a couple seconds before they realized something - they

couldnt see the island.

Suddenly, there was silence. Louie and Phil could no longer even look at each other.

Land was gone, and with it went their last hope. They were adrift once more.

Even the sky seemed to suddenly grow ominous, Louie would later recount. The hush

that fell over the raft seemed to spread to the blue expanse above and around them. The waves

calmed and dissipated until the ocean was naught but a sheet of breakable silence, the color of

despair. The color of the sky. The color of their spirits. Louie, delirious, could no longer tell

which was which.

Phil was hardly in better shape. Spots marred his vision and danced across his brain, the

legacy of staring too long at the horizon. Hed hoped against hope for so long, desperate for the

island to reappear. But as day turned to night and the silence grew ever deeper, he gave up. Phil

could no longer conceive of a way out.

The stars rose, one by one, then two by two, then all in a great mass, twinkling beacons in

the darkening sky. Louie fancied he saw his mothers face written there; then it seemed his

fathers, or perhaps it was Gods. Louie had never been religious, but as he stared blindly into the

darkness, he seemed to sense something, someone. He felt bathed in love and warmth.

Regardless, the sky and the sea swirled together in a melting of midnight, and Second

Lieutenant Louis S. Zamperini drifted into merciful sleep.

One small wave lapped against the boats side, then another, slightly bigger. The next

wave came, and the next, and the next, but Phil still stared unseeingly at the invisible horizon,

and Louie still slumbered. As the winds rose and the waves crashed, one small raft was lost to

view in churning whiteness.

The wind roared. The sea gods raged. The rain pelted down, and the lifeboat was gone.

__________

There is an ancient saying passed down by generations of Hawaiians. Translated, it goes

something like this: Unfolded by the water are the faces of the flowers.

The day the two haole washed ashore, that proverb echoed from many tongues-- for

somehow, the typhoon which destroyed the village and swept away the palm trees had saved Phil


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and Louie. Though their faces were pale and haggard under the golden light of dawn, both men

had made it to land.

The village elder took the two strangers in; the women of the village nursed them and

giggled over them. As he slowly recovered, Louie picked up a few words of Hawaiian and

began to tentatively to flirt with those pretty girls who caught his fancy. Phil, who had a much

harder recovery, smiled to see his friend up to the old tricks again. It reassured Phil that Louie

was rebounding, but he himself wanted a quiet life, going forward.

It was only after about a year in the small village that the people judged Louie and Phil fit

enough to go to the Niihua military base. The departure ceremony was accompanied by many

tears, especially from Louies lady friend, Hinaea; she was also the loudest to celebrate when

they were sent back by the base. The commanding admiral had thought some more sunshine and

rest would do the castaways good.

_________

Later, much later, when the war was over and the two men returned home (Louie with his

new wife Hinaea, or Hana, in tow), they learned just how lucky they had been. Were it not for

the two freak typhoons -- the first of which swept them North, the second East -- Louie and Phil

would most likely have starved at sea. That, they had already known. But they had not realized

before how easily they might have drifted onto a Japanese island or a Japanese boat. And they

had not realized what would have followed in a Japanese prison camp.

Louie had heard stories, before the war. But the veterans group he joined upon his return

quickly brought him the realities. Two of his fellow survivors had been prisoners of war. Both

were haunted by the demons that Louie and Phil had escaped. One, Joe, eventually succumbed to

his alcoholism, while the other, Marshall, committed suicide.

It was that second death that spurred Louie into action. Marshall had become a friend, a

true friend, and his fate could have been Louies. Only two freak storms and the kindness of the

Niihua people had saved Louie from a Japanese prison camp. There but for the grace of God...

Louie might have said, if Louie knew what he believed in.

However, Louie was not an extremely religious man. Thats not to say he didnt believe

in some force that superseded his own being, one that had allowed him to escape relatively

unscathed - he did believe in that. Not fate exactly, yet not random chance either. Louie felt that

he and Phil had been plucked from the hot, iron jaws of death for a reason.


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As happy as he was to be home, Louie grew restless. Although his wartime days were

over, there was a certain buried part of him that longed for excitement. And he still felt that he

had some unfinished business.

So it was that one day, late in the summer of 47, Louie woke with a determination that

he had never felt before. He got dressed, slipped into his shoes, and shook his wife awake,

handing her a stopwatch the second her eyes opened. As they walked down the street hand in

hand, Louie instructed, Start the watch when I say tre.

Hana, stopwatch at the ready, listened as he knelt to the ground and counted:

Uno...

Due...

Tre.

___FIN___

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