After the tragedy has come the quiet heroism of the Italian rescue teams. Live was given exclusive access to the divers and sappers who are searching for bodies in a half-submerged hulk they know could slip into the depths at any moment – with unthinkable consequences
A briefing with Italian Navy special forces divers at dawn at Giglio Porto, a restaurant by the harbour that has been turned into an operations room. The commander, Captain Roberto Monzani, is pointing to a rear section of the Concordia where the divers will place explosive charges to blow open entry points into the ship for the coastguard divers
The shrill sound of his mobile phone ringing at 1.30am shook coastguard diver Umberto Carrieri from his bed. To receive a call at that time in the morning could only mean trouble.
He picked up the handset. His boss was on the line.
‘You need to be ready to move in half an hour. A cruise liner is sinking and there are people trapped.’
Carrieri asked him to elaborate.
‘It’s a liner called Concordia,’ he was told.
‘She has run aground off the island of Giglio. There are more than 4,000 passengers and crew on board and the captain has given the order to abandon ship.’
Carrieri packed his mask, flippers and warm clothing, and 14 minutes later was outside his barracks and in a truck ready for the 200-mile drive to Porto Santo Stefano and the ferry to Giglio.
Divers make their way past debris littering one of the bars on Concordia. Conditions inside the ship are atrocious and getting worse
Six hours later he caught his first sight of the 950ft-long Costa Concordia lying on her side, the red of her hull exposed to the sky, stranded at the foot of the rocks known as Seagull Point.
The image has been etched in our minds ever since. Day after day divers look for survivors. They also made their way into the cabin of Captain Francesco Schettino, just below the bridge, to retrieve his suitcases, safe and personal papers, acting on the orders of prosecutors.
But their job quickly changed into a gruesome search for victims’ bodies.
Now, Live has been granted access to the operations centre for the divers, where they co-ordinate this increasingly complex and perilous undertaking. Conditions inside the ship are atrocious and getting worse.
A team of special forces and coastguard divers head towards the stricken vessel. Their route into the ship is through a series of holes blown into the Concordia's submerged hull by the navy divers
Visibility below the water is at best just 2ft and at worst a few inches.
Even with powerful torches, the divers – who are drawn from the coastguard, navy and fire brigade – have trouble illuminating the bowels of the vessel, which lies in around 70ft of water. Because the ship has tilted almost 90 degrees, floors and ceilings have become walls.
Dive crews have to swim through all manner of debris, from tablecloths and curtains to chairs and food. They mark their route through Concordia using an ‘Ariadne’s thread’, a line that shows the way they’ve come and, if necessary, the way out if the ship starts to move from the rocky shelf on which it’s dangerously balanced. The term derives from the story of Theseus entering the Labyrinth to kill the Minotaur – Ariadne gave him a ball of thread to mark his route back.‘It’s a lifeline for the divers,’ says Rodolfo Raiteri, head of the coastguard dive team.
‘It’s their link from inside the ship to the outside world, and they can’t lose sight of it. They run their hands along it at all times so they know where they are and how to get out if there’s an emergency.’
A coastguard diver is sprayed with disinfectant after returning from a mission in the polluted water inside Concordia, where food and flesh are now rotting
Compressed-air tanks give them a breathing time of 50 minutes, although most dives last around 40 minutes – the extra air is in case of emergency. So they can pick their way through the darkness, the divers have two torches positioned on their helmets, and they also carry spare batteries in their pockets.
The water temperature is at best 10°C, so they wear thermal long johns and T-shirts beneath their thick anti-tear Kevlar suits.
Getting ready for a dive takes around 20 minutes, and before getting into the water they’re checked by a doctor to ensure sure they’re fit enough for the arduous task ahead.
At the pre-dive briefings – one of which Live is permitted to attend – divers are told which section of the ship to focus on. Large maps are pinned to the walls of the operations room, and targets are marked on laminated diagrams they then take into the water.
A close-up of the map of Concordia at the dive briefing. Because the ship has tilted almost 90 degrees, floors and ceilings have become walls
Their route into the ship is through a series of holes blown into the Concordia’s submerged hull by the navy divers.
The holes also provide an escape route should she slip from her resting place and plunge to the sea floor, 300ft down.
Leonardo Cherici, 34, from Civitavecchia, the very port from which Concordia set sail, was one of the first divers into the ship, smashing his way into the restaurant on deck four with an iron bar in what was initially a frantic hunt for survivors, but which turned into the sombre task of recovering bodies.
Those they recovered had to be carefully removed and taken to the surface in a delicate operation, as after days in the water any sharp movement could have led to damaged body parts breaking away in their hands.
Speaking from the briefing tent of the coastguard diving team, he explains his route through Concordia on a series of maps showing the decks of the liner.
‘The thing I remember seeing first was a mountain of chairs, dozens and dozens all piled onto one side in the restaurant.
'You really had to be careful, as the visibility was so poor. We could see barely anything in front of us and our vision was being blocked constantly by the debris that we were swimming through.
‘That ship carried 4,000 people. It was a floating village. It had just set sail, so there was enough food and provisions to last a week, and we were swimming through most of it.
'As you went deeper inside the ship the visibility dropped away completely – the water changed colour because of all the debris that was floating around.
‘I was swimming through carpets, curtains and tablecloths.
'One thing I remember is that half-empty wine bottles would every now and then come shooting towards us from below. They’d been trapped under chairs or other debris, and as they became dislodged they would shoot to the surface like missiles.’
Divers leaving for a dawn operation. Even with powerful torches, they have trouble illuminating the bowels of the vessel, which lies in around 70ft of water.
The dive teams had to make their way through the confined spaces of the ship, squeezing into narrow passageways as they carried out the grim task of looking for bodies in more than 1,500 cabins.
Cherici was the first diver to find victims from the disaster – two elderly men who were both wearing life jackets.
‘They were next to each other by a muster station,’ he says.
‘And that’s what really hit me – they were so close to the lifeboats and so close to being saved. One of them was holding a woman’s handbag, which I later found out belonged to his wife.
‘The first thing we had to do was cut the life jackets off. If we don’t do that it’s like trying to carry a balloon underwater. You try not to get emotional, but it’s very difficult. We are not robots; we have feelings and emotions like everyone else.
A coastguard diver writes notes with a waterproof pad and pencil that he can take with him into the ship
‘When you see the victims wearing life jackets and so close to the lifeboats, you start asking yourself questions. Why didn’t they make it into a lifeboat? Why didn’t they jump into the water? You can only hope they were knocked out by the impact as the ship turned, otherwise if they were still alive they would have been in the dark and helpless, terrified as they were engulfed by a mountain of water.‘That’s when you start to reflect on things,’ he adds.
‘These people were on a holiday and supposed to be enjoying themselves – they were all dressed very elegantly as if they were going to a party. The bodies I’ve recovered before from drownings have been in swimming costumes, not evening wear.’
Raiteri says of his team, ‘They can only spend 50 minutes at a time below the water at the most.
A coastguard briefing, led by commander Rodolfo Raiteri, before a search-and-rescue mission
'They dive in pairs and are always connected so they can rely on one another if they hit trouble. Communication is via gestures – there’s no way of speaking with the surface boat. If they don’t return after the allotted time then we go down to find them.
‘The other problem we’re facing is that food and flesh are starting to rot down there and the water is getting very polluted.
'One of the guys told me that some of the water went into his mask and the stench was unbearable. 'That’s why after the last few dives we’ve had to disinfect the divers and the suits with sprays and detergents to make sure they’re not exposing themselves to any bacteriological risks. They’re being washed in units that are designed for germ warfare.’
Divers undertake meticulous preparations for a dive. Before getting into the water they're checked by a doctor to ensure sure they're fit enough for the arduous task ahead
Outside the briefing tent, Carrieri is preparing for his final dive before returning to his base after almost two weeks on site.
Pulling on his suit he says, ‘On the way here I truly didn’t imagine I would see a tragedy of this dimension. The ship reminds me of a beached whale, just lying there helpless. It’s so surreal. Then you go below the water and things get even more surreal.
'The first time I went into the restaurant you could tell the disaster happened just as dinner was being served – the room is full of plates, cutlery and glasses. Everything was ready for a pleasant evening.
‘When you see the size of the hole in the hull and the size of the rock that’s embedded in there, then you can really sense the horror and scale of what happened.
'The power of the sea and nature and the foolishness of man all rolled into one.’
4th February 2012
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-2094871/Costa-Concordia-Grim-quest-bodies-board-capsized-cruise-ship.html#ixzz1lY9bGNT2
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