DREAMLAND TO NIGHTMARE
BALI BOMBING VICTIM DAVID CREECY TELLS HIS TALE

By Noah Garrett

His doctors scratch their heads in confused amazement. His wife and two kids gaze into his seared eyes, gazes that say “thank you.” Thank you for being alive. His friends manage smiles and shed tears as he recalls a gruesome tale of a dream surf trip that, in one fiery instant, turned into a nightmare on the other side of the world. David Creecy sits in a plush leather chair inside his Colington, NC, home while a half-full, perspiring Corona drips in one hand. His black lab, Reef, lays anxiously on the hardwood floor beneath his swollen, bandaged feet. The 49-year-old’s appearance and outgoing spirit make it difficult to accept the fact that more than 60 percent of his body was burned last year after terrorists linked to al-Qaeda bombed the Kuta Beach nightclub district on the Indonesian island of Bali. Nearly 200 people died in that blast, the worst of its kind in the country’s history.

It was October 12th. Three friends had accompanied Creecy to Bali, but this particular night he was alone. Only two days remained in his 14-day odyssey—which he jestfully labeled “one last surf trip before turning 50” prior to his flight home to the Outer Banks, where he runs a pool and spa business. After shopping among local vendors for gifts to bring back to his family, Creecy stopped by Paddy’s Bar just after 10:00 pm to enjoy a familiar Corona before heading back to his hotel.

Less than 20 minutes later, his life changed forever.

After an extensive and expensive process involving several skin grafts, an emergency tracheotomy, unpardonable problems with the American embassy in Bali, two medevac flights—from Bali to Singapore and eventually to the North Carolina Jaycee Burn Center in Chapel Hill at a cost of almost $150,000—not to mention two months of painful confinement to a hospital bed, Creecy finally returned to the Outer Banks in early December with his wife Jackie and two children, Tyler, 18, and Caitlin, 12. Today, Creecy is able to walk, work out at the local gym, and drive to various therapy sessions with little problems. He will be able to start surfing again in May, although he’ll have to wear a fullsuit even in the summertime. Creecy is an inspiration to his entire barrier island community, his family, and himself. After all, he’s been to hell and back, and has the scars to prove it.

ESM: So David, you were enjoying a beer at Paddy’s when the first blast occurred?
DC: Yes, it was like someone threw a firecracker on the dance floor. My first impression was like, ‘what the hell?’ Then all of a sudden, I couldn’t hear. It was deafly quiet, and that’s when I realized my eardrums were blown and that this was serious.

ESM: Was there no warning whatsoever?
DC: Well, I saw the bomber. He was across the bar from me and wearing a backpack. You could tell this guy wasn’t right because he looked at me like he wanted to fight. I just kinda blew him off and went back to drinking my beer, then I heard this noise and saw a huge wall of blue flames coming at me.

ESM: What did you do?
DC: I used to be a volunteer firefighter, so I remembered to hit the floor. That’s when people started stampeding out of there. I was on the floor crawling around through the back of the bar where they were cooking with propane on these little woks. I guess that first explosion ignited those tanks because I’m pretty sure that’s what burned me. Anyway, while the place was going crazy, the truck bomb went off outside (in front of the Sari Club) shooting another huge wall of flames through the place. Damn, so many people were vaporized right in front of me.

ESM: How horrifying!
DC: Yeah, after the flames roared through Paddy’s, I was still on the floor near the side of the bar. I was probably on my last legs when someone stepped on me.

ESM: Stepped on you?
DC: This guy named Patrick Shepheard from New Zealand and his fiancee’s brother, Andrew Warrington, got trampled by everyone running out. I think a table had fallen over them or something, which probably saved them when the second bomb exploded. After that explosion, they were running out and Patrick stepped on me.

ESM: Were you still conscious?
DC: Definitely, because that’s when I screamed and Patrick reached down, grabbed my arm, and said “Come on, mate, we can’t stop here. We gotta get outta here.”

ESM: So this Patrick was somewhat of a Godsend?
DC: He saved my life. He half-carried, half-pulled me out of the bar and set me down in a courtyard. That’s where most of the injured and dead were laid out in this makeshift first-aid area.

ESM: That must’ve been a hellish image.
DC: Well, I don’t remember much. I think I went into shock once or twice. I remember a German man and a French woman who apparently had some medical skills were going through the wounded, deciding who needed to get to a hospital or clinic first. A couple of times they said I was going to die and someone should go ahead of me. Patrick got angry at them one time and said, “No, he’s not! He’s a fighter. He’s going to make it.”

ESM: Had you ever met Patrick before?
DC: No.

ESM: Describe your injuries?
DC: My eyes were cooked into my head, and I had shrapnel all over my body. A piece of shrapnel almost cut my Achilles tendon in two. One of my ears was cut halfway off, and I had all kinds of other stuff stuck in me, not to mention the burns. But it’s funny because I don’t remember feeling a thing until I hit the courtyard.

ESM: And once the pain did register?
DC: The pain was something that would drive a man insane. I screamed and screamed. I hope to never hear anyone scream like that again. I was ready to die. If I would’ve had a gun, I would have shot myself right there.

ESM: What kept you going?
DC: Patrick and Andrew stayed with me and kept asking me questions about where I surfed that day, what was the best wave I ever rode, how good the surf was on the Outer Banks...but nothing was working until Patrick asked if I had a family. That’s when their faces just popped in my head, and it gave me a little fight.

ESM: How long did you lay there?
DC: I was in that courtyard until about 4:00 am (nearly six hours after the bombing) when someone picked me up and put me into a pickup truck. But whoever loaded me in the truck didn’t secure me because when they tore up the road, I fell out the back, splitting my head wide open.

ESM: When it rains it pours, right?
DC: I don’t know [laughs and sighs at the same time], I don’t remember much after that.

ESM: When did your friends find you?
DC: I went over to Indo with Emory Meekins, Ashley Heath and Tara Deane, all of Kill Devil Hills. They searched everywhere for me and found me the next day at the sixth hospital they went to. In walks Emory, fresh off a trip to Costa Rica with some friends, including the two who were with him and Creecy in Bali during the bombing. He had yet to see Creecy in his improved state. “Where’s David?” he asks, while walking through the glass door. He looks right at the flannel-shirted man on the chair. “I’m right here,” Creecy replies in duh-like fashion. “This is amazing,” Emory smiles. “I didn’t even recognize you. Unreal, man.” The two surf buddies/ coworkers exchange hugs and catch up over a beer before Creecy returns to the interview.

ESM: You were talking about your friends finding you...
DC: After (the hospital stay in) Singapore, it took about 28 hours to fly back to the United States. My family moved into a hotel in Chapel Hill while I got better. The doctors said I probably would have died if I hadn’t been in decent physical shape. Finally, one day I told them to quit giving me painkillers so I could get better on my own.

ESM: That’s pretty brave.
DC: Well, I’m up now. I’m getting better and I’m moving around. There’s no use in crying about it. I’m just happy to be alive.

ESM: Aren’t you angry?
DC: I’ve seen the bombers’ pictures in the paper. But y’know, they’re nothing more than pictures to me. I just want to know why. But other than that, I have no reason to hate anybody. I have no enemies, and no time to dwell on them in my life.

ESM: That’s mighty big of you.
DC: Well, it’s true. I have so many people to thank for helping me and my family during all this that I’m not even concerned about those guys. Hell, the local radio station (99.1 The Sound) raised over $50,000 for me, and so many other people have called, sent letters, food, money... it’s amazing. The people on the Outer Banks are just amazing.

ESM: Any last thoughts you’d care to share?
DC: I seriously walked through the center of hell and lived to tell about it. Like I said before, I’m just happy to be alive.