Death Row in Paradise by Aubrey Brooks

Author:Aubrey Brooks [Brooks, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Modern, General
ISBN: 9781909982048
Google: 86wYngEACAAJ
Publisher: Helion
Published: 2015-01-15T00:26:34+00:00

14

The Flight to Isle de Platte

It had not taken us long to gather our meagre bits and pieces. We were then told to stand by and to await the arrival of Major Marengo, who arrived in a rather jovial mood and I think he could see and feel our apprehension, for he told us to relax. He then said this was the next phase of the conversation we had had with the president a while back. We were going to be flown to an island whilst the trial and all the other issues involving the mutineers were being sorted out. It was a moment that we had been expecting, but things had been so quiet for so long that it had almost slipped our minds. Now that the time had arrived we were not too sure what to think. Was this a good or a bad development? Would we now be put on the island and forgotten? By now it was already the end of October in 1982. Talk about mixed emotions once again. After the Major spoke to us, it was time to say our goodbyes to our former guards, who were now packed into our old cells. It was quite sad and rather surreal. Before long we found ourselves being driven down the now familiar road to the airport. On arrival we were put on the president’s personal plane. Nobody told us where we were going, but we all understood this was part of what René had said about getting us out of the way for a time.

The aircraft was a twin-engined Islander. We took off and flew for what appeared to be a very long time; it seemed as if we were never going to get to our destination. All six of us were there: Barney Carey, Jerry Puren, Roger England, Martin Dolinchek, Bobby Simms and me. As I looked down at the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean we were crossing, one thought came to me: escape was almost impossible. We were travelling a very long way indeed. At first I thought that they were deliberately flying us around in order to disorientate us, but on reflection I do not think this ploy was ever necessary.

Then suddenly the tiny coral atoll of Isle de Platte popped into view. My first thought as we circled above, was that we could never land on that. It seemed to be less than two kilometres long and about eight hundred metres wide, an atoll that made a speck of green in the brilliant blue of the ocean. But land we did. The landing strip ran practically the length of the island, through a coconut plantation. It was a grass strip and once the wheels touched down, the gentle drone of the engines was drowned out by the sound of the stones being flicked up as we bounced along the runway. We taxied up to a cluster of buildings beside the runway; here we were told to gather our belongings and wait.

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