The team went through some key moments of their ordeal – why they went to the cave, how they survived and what it was like being found by the British divers.
‘My brain was getting slow, as we’d been stuck for ten days. The subjects of maths and English were all gone,’ said Adul modestly.
Dr Pak and the SEALs talked about how they’d kept the boys’ spirits up and about the food they had discussed.
‘Many of them had promised me and the SEALs team that they will bring us some exotic food, like Northern-style sausage made from snake meat, and Burmese food,’ said Dr Pak.
‘I already had almost everything I wanted to eat – bread with chocolate and kao pad kapow moo [crispy pork stir-fried with basil],’ said Tern.
‘I got what I wanted,’ said little Mark. ‘Congee!’
The boys apologised to their parents for not telling them they were going to the cave.
‘I would also like to apologize and tell them, “I love you.” I understand the value of not being truthful to our parents, as it could later make them disappointed,’ said Adul.
The psychologists reported that all thirteen were doing well mentally, but were vulnerable to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The new governor of Chiang Rai, Prachon Pratsakul, urged the media and public to leave them alone and let them get back to their normal lives.
The team was asked about the death of Saman Gunan. The boys and Coach Ek had only found out about his death after they’d spent several days in hospital and it had hit them hard, knowing their misadventure had cost a man his life.
‘I feel sorry and also impressed by Ja Sam, that he gave up his life to protect the Wild Boar children. All thirteen of us got out and will live happy and normal lives,’ said Coach Ek.
Someone had drawn a lovely pencil sketch of Sergeant Sam and the team had all signed a message on it. They wanted to present the framed portrait to his widow. Titan stood up to read one of the messages: ‘My condolences. May you rest in peace, and thank you for sacrificing both body and mind. My deepest condolences to the family of Sergeant. I’d like to thank you, Sergeant, and your family. I hope that you rest in peace.’
As Titan turned his back to the audience to read this heartfelt message, his hand unconsciously reached behind and started to adjust his underwear. The crowd tried desperately not to laugh as his hand stayed back there, re-organising his inner layer, trying to get comfortable in his new clothes.
The boys were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. Almost all said they wanted to be soccer players. Some wanted to be soccer players and Navy SEALs.
Asked if they’d learned anything from the ordeal, Adul said he had. ‘Having been given this chance, I will live my life more carefully and live it to the fullest.’
* * *
Home was a long time coming for the boys of the Wild Boars Academy Football Club. There were the ten days trapped with no food. Then six more days before the rescues even started. And even once they were free, they were quarantined for another ten days.
‘I am very happy to be home. I was finally able to sleep well last night,’ said Coach Ek, who, as the only adult, had borne the extra burden of guilt about taking the team to the cave.
After a few days’ rest, the boys were keen to get back to school and see their friends.
But for Note, Tee and Adul, something was weird. They’d just been through an amazing ordeal, one that had captivated the world – but now their schoolmates were pretending it hadn’t happened. It was surreal.
‘I was confused why nobody came to ask me anything about the cave. But the principal had told them not to,’ said Adul.
Before long, things started to return to some kind of normal.
‘I was very happy that my friends welcomed me back and organised a birthday party for me,’ said Dom.
Dom would soon have more than 400,000 followers on his Instagram account. It was something all the boys would have to get used to, now that they were the famous Wild Boars.
* * *
The fact that four of those stuck in the cave were stateless shone a spotlight on the issue. While 500,000 people were officially registered as stateless in Thailand, the real number is thought to be as high as 3.5 million. Being stateless means dealing with restrictions on where they can go (usually not outside the province’s border) and their ability to get a job. Stateless people can’t legally marry or get a loan.
The three stateless boys – Mark, Tee and Adul – were able to go to school and access basic healthcare. Coach Ek was pretty much on his own, though. The fact that he’d previously applied for a work permit – something only foreigners needed – made it even trickier.
Initially, the new governor of Chiang Rai said the Wild Boars wouldn’t be given any special treatment when it came to their citizenship applications – theirs would be processed just like any others.
A few weeks later, though, there was some good news. The Mae Sai district chief, Somsak Kanakham – who had shown an interest in helping the stateless soccer players even before their cave ordeal – had approved their applications. The boys were eligible, he said, because they could prove they had been born in Thailand. Coach Ek was also given papers as an ‘award of merit’. They received their Thai ID cards in August.
They had been embraced by the Thai public; now they truly belonged.
26
Bittersweet
ON SATURDAY, 14 JULY, a sea of black-clad mourners gathered around an elaborate cremation platform. It was the sort of send-off usually reserved for high-ranking officials or royals, but this was a funeral for a hero, a former soldier who lost his life rescuing others. Saman Gunan’s coffin had been brought back by military escort to his hometown of Roi Et, in the northeast of Thailand. His body was taken to a temple and laid out for friends and family to pay their last respects. In the Thai tradition, they took little silver cups of water and poured the contents over the dead man’s hand, into a bowl of flowers. It took several days to construct Saman’s crematorium, which looked a bit like a small temple, decorated with garlands of white and yellow flowers.
The King sent his top man, Privy Councillor General Surayud Chulanont, to represent the palace at the service. Narongsak Osattanakorn attended on behalf of the Wild Boars, who were still in hospital at the time. Rows of soldiers stood to attention, near officials in white uniforms and black armbands.
Saman’s widow was there, her eyes red from crying. In a later interview with the BBC she talked about her pride and grief.
‘I really loved him,’ said Waleeporn Gunan. ‘Every day before he left for work we said we loved each other. At midday we’d text to see if the other had had lunch.
‘Saman once said we never know when we would die, we can’t control that, so we need to cherish every day. If you ask me if I’m sad, it’s like I died but I’m still alive. But I use my pride to repress my sadness. He’s been praised as a hero because of who he was. He loved helping others, doing charity work, getting things done. So I use pride to help deal with my sorrow.’
She absolved the Wild Boars team of responsibility: ‘I want to tell the boys, please don’t blame yourselves.’
And she told the BBC what she would like to say to Saman if she could.
‘I want to tell you, honey, “You are the hero in my heart, you always were and always will be.”’
Saman’s father wore heavy black sunglasses as he sat at the funeral with a framed portrait of his son on his lap.
‘I am very proud but I am very sad too because I’ve lost my beloved son,’ said Wichai Gunan. ‘May you rest in peace, rest well. Daddy loves you.’
Ryan Blair and other friends in the adventure sports world mourned the loss of a gifted athlete and warm-spirited teammate. They tried to think of the good times they’d shared.
‘One of my fondest memories was when we were celebrating our team win and watching the live music entertainment at the 2012 River Kwai Trophy awards ceremony,’ Ryan wrote in a Facebook tribute.
<
br /> Saman got so excited as they were playing Isaan music from his home region. He all of a sudden ran up on stage and took the instrument [a Thai pan flute] and started jamming with the band. He then proceeded to rip his shirt off and started dancing and continued playing.
Saman, you were one of the most unique persons and passionate athletes I have ever raced with or been around. Your whole life and career seemed to be tied to helping others – national service, bodyguard work, special SEAL missions when called, security at the airport, youth programs in Kanchanaburi. I know you would have wanted to be the first person to help those kids in the cave and, I’m sure, jumped in as soon as you got the chance, no matter what the risks. You gave your life for the ultimate sacrifice, helping others and really are a true hero.
Saman Gunan was posthumously promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander and awarded the royal decoration of Knight Grand Cross (first class) of the Most Exalted Order of the White Elephant. In a final honour, the King sent a ‘royal flame’ to light the pyre.
* * *
The news of Saman Gunan’s death had touched the Wild Boars deeply. They wanted to do something to show their gratitude and, in the Thai style of modern Buddhism, ‘make merit’ (do good deeds) for his soul. They decided to get ordained as novice monks at a temple in Mae Sai.
On 23 July, eleven of the boys and Coach Ek entered the temple. (Adul wasn’t there. He was a Christian and had shown his thanks at church, where he played guitar and sang.) It was a rainy day, but they went barefoot. They sat in a row, wearing white clothing, their hands pressed together in the Thai gesture of prayer. They had their heads shaved and then they changed into orange robes.
The team stayed at the temple for thirteen days, meditating, chanting and learning about Buddhism. On 5 August, the boys left the monkhood, handing back their robes and changing into blue trousers and white T-shirts. But Coach Ek stayed on as a monk for several more weeks. Most evenings, the boys would go to the temple to visit him. It seemed their bond was stronger than ever.
* * *
Amidst the joy, there would be one more cruel twist to the rescue saga.
Hours after Dr Richard Harris had played such a pivotal role in saving the boys and Coach Ek, returning them safely to their families, his own father died unexpectedly in Adelaide.
His name was Jim Harris.
‘Harry put the mission first . . . now he’s having to come to deal with what actually happened overnight,’ said Andrew Pearce, a colleague at an Adelaide rescue service. ‘You’ve given your all and then you find out the sad news about your father, who’s your best mate – that’s really, really tough.’
A few days later, on board an RAAF C-17 on the way back to Australia with Craig Challen and Australian team members from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Australian Federal Police and Australian Defence Force, Harry wrote a lengthy post on Facebook. He said it was his first chance to reflect on what had happened in Chiang Rai.
He acknowledged the work of local divers and the British team (whom he dubbed ‘the awesome foursome’) in laying the all-important guide line, without which the rescue would have been impossible. ‘The efforts and skill of these guys in blazing this trail cannot be underestimated,’ he wrote. ‘Following someone else’s line is very much easier than finding your own way.’
Dr Harry also gave credit to the many Thai and international volunteers involved in the massive effort, doing everything from providing catering, helping pump water from the cave, finding ways to drill into the cave, and scouring the mountain for alternative access routes.
He then heaped praise on the support divers involved in the rescue, before recognising the Australian, American, Chinese and Thai teams for their part in getting the Wild Boars safely out of the cave and to a hospital. The Facebook post was his way of giving credit to everyone involved.
‘The part we played,’ he wrote, ‘has been made out to be a lot more noble than it actually was, we just consider ourselves lucky to have had some skills that we could contribute to the wonderful outcome.’
Selflessly, he did not mention the pain of his father’s death in this message to the world.
Australia’s Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull called Dr Harry and Craig to offer his condolences for Dr Harry’s loss and congratulate them on their heroism.
‘No worries,’ Dr Harry replied. ‘The big heroes in this are the children and the four Navy SEALs who were looking after them. They are the toughest blokes and kids I have ever had the privilege to meet.’
* * *
A few weeks later, far from Thailand, at Government House in Canberra, the leaders from both sides of Australian politics gathered. The governor-general, Sir Peter Cosgrove, was also present. Nine men sat rather stiffly at the front of the room. Two of them wore suits; seven formal uniforms. They were to receive bravery medals.
‘We think that you were remarkable – skilful, tireless, compassionate and courageous. Your nation is so proud of you. Today, Australia salutes you,’ said Governor-General Cosgrove.
Dr Richard Harris and Craig Challen were presented with the Star of Courage, the second-highest Australian bravery decoration, awarded for ‘acts of conspicuous courage in circumstances of great peril’.
The six Australian Federal Police rescue specialists and a member of the navy received bravery medals. They were: Senior Constable Justin John Bateman, Leading Senior Constable Kelly Craig Boers, Detective Leading Senior Constable Benjamin Walter Cox, First Constable Matthew Peter Fitzgerald, Acting Station Sergeant Robert Michael James, Detective Leading Senior Constable Christopher John Markcrow, and the one man from the defence force, Chief Petty Officer Troy Matthew Eather.
All nine received the Medal of the Order of Australia too.
Dr Harry once again shared the glory with the wider team.
‘We just went cave diving for a few days and were able to get the kids out . . . these awards have been completely unexpected and we’re just trying to emphasise how big a part so many people played in this,’ he said.
But there was some sense of the enormity of what had been accomplished by the international team.
‘Cave diving is what we do. That bit didn’t require anything special,’ said Craig. ‘But what we are not used to is holding these little humans in our hands and their faith completely up to us. What we did at the time made all the difference between them surviving and not.’
But when asked about their own roles in the rescue, like Dr Harry, he played down the honour: ‘We’re just a couple of ordinary blokes with an unusual hobby.’
27
Hunting the Wild Boars
DESPITE THE CALLS FROM officials to leave the boys alone, some media organisations were desperate for a quick hit. But the way a few news organisations hunted down the Wild Boars left many in the media and wider society deeply uncomfortable.
It was later reported that the American Broadcasting Company (a commercial organisation unrelated to the publicly funded Australian Broadcasting Corporation) had eighteen local producers working the night of the Wild Boars’ first press conference, posted at the boys’ homes. They turned up uninvited to the welcome-home parties, and, in some cases, the families were too polite to refuse. The morning after the press conference, their correspondent, James Longman, showed up at Titan’s house bearing a basket of dried birds nest soup – a traditional gift for the infirm, but an odd one for an eleven-year-old boy.
The American Broadcasting Company also filmed Night being stripped to his shorts and doused with a bucket of water in a ritual, and Adul in church being hugged and fed pieces of fried chicken. It all made for great TV.
The Thai government reportedly offered the families safehouses, but they preferred to find refuge in the homes of friends and relatives. The attention crowded the boys. When Biw wanted to visit Adul in those first days of freedom, he asked his father if he’d have to climb over the wall of their house to escape the waiting media.
From each of these news a
gencies, there were no doubt back-slapping and herograms. But in Thailand, there was a strong backlash.
‘The interviews should not have been done at all,’ said Tawatchai Thaikyo, the deputy permanent secretary of Thailand’s Ministry of Justice. ‘Some questions can trigger fears in the boys, especially questions about medication before the extraction from the cave. Such questions remind them of the traumatic experience they went through and may result in a chronic depression in the future.
‘Although the foreign agencies claimed that they received a permission from the boys’ parents, it is not right because Thai and foreign journalists were informed of clear guidelines on the coverage. The parents of the boys might not be prepared to cope with what’s to come,’ Tawatchai Thaikyo told the Bangkok Post.
Some government officials went even further, threatening legal action under the Child Protection Act. It went nowhere, but it showed the anger they had at the journalists who had blatantly ignored requests from doctors and officials.
* * *
The situation posed an ethical dilemma for all of us in the media. We all wanted to hear more from the boys and their families, but the request for privacy was a reasonable one. Jum and I decided that we wouldn’t push for an interview but would try to let our contacts know we were keen to talk when they were ready.
Jum had been in contact with Sak, Biw’s dad, and called him on 19 July (the day after the boys got out of hospital) to see how he was doing, and to say that we’d be very interested in doing an interview, when the time was right. He said it was too soon for anything on camera, but invited us all for beers on the mountain.
Several fathers of the boys had gathered at a hillside restaurant with a panoramic view of the mountains. Jum, David and I joined the table of dads and a few of their friends, who had been drawn in as unofficial advisors. Often in Southeast Asia, you ‘cheers’ just about every time you drink, and so it was that night, arms stretched across the table at regular intervals. We’d decided on the way there to avoid asking questions about the boys or the rescue; to keep it light and social, make friends. But we needn’t have worried; the rescue was all the fathers could talk about.
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