Jacobs hopped in a lifeboat. He screamed for co-workers to jump aboard

Jacobs hopped in a lifeboat. He screamed for co-workers to jump aboard Brown, the rig's mechanic, had traveled with the rig from South Korea, where it was made nearly a decade ago. He had seen the mechanical crew get downsized over the years. Yet as the rig aged, the engines began having more problems. xhiju

"It became overwhelming," he said. "We couldn't keep up with the flow of it. ... We constantly over the years kept telling them, 'Hey, we need more help back here.'

"They pretty much just said, 'Well, we'll look into it.' "

About nine months ago, Brown said, he got an additional first engineer, yet the crew was still overloaded with work.

Even more alarming, the rig survivors said, was the amount of resistance the well was giving them. "We had problems with it from the day we got on," Matthew Jacobs said.

Nearly every day, Jacobs said, "we had problems with that well."

Barron said it was like an eerie cloud hung over the well being dug 5,000 feet into the sea.

"There was always like an ominous feeling," he said. "This well did not want to be drilled. ... It just seemed like we were messing with Mother Nature."

At times, the drill got stuck. Many times, it "kicked," meaning gas was shooting back through the mud at an alarming rate.

"I've seen a lot of gas coming up from muds on different wells, xhiju and the highest I've ever seen in my 11 years was 1,500 units. And this well gave us 3,000," Brown said. "I've never been on a well with that high of gas coming out of the mud. That was kind of letting me know this well was something to be reckoned with."

It all came to a head at 9:56 p.m., when the first of three explosions rocked Deepwater Horizon, 52 miles southeast of Venice, Louisiana, with 126 people aboard. Tiles fell from the ceiling, walls collapsed, and people ran for their lives. It reminded Matt Jacobs of the movie "Titanic."

"It looked like you was looking at the face of death," he said. "You could hear it, see it, smell it."

He scrambled to the lifeboat deck. Jacobs had been trained to fight fires aboard the rig. But when he looked at the flames shooting 150 feet into the air, he knew there was nothing they could do. "There is no way we can put that fire out," he thought.

Jacobs hopped in a lifeboat. He screamed for co-workers to jump aboard. A second explosion rocked the rig. The lifeboat, still suspended in the air, went into a free fall of about 3 feet.

"Here I am on a lifeboat that's supposed to help me get off this rig," Jacobs thought. "And I'm gonna wind up dying."

He bowed his head and prayed.

Now, 50 days later, the survivors are telling their stories. xhiju It's become part of their everyday lives. They can't shake what happened that day, even when they close their eyes at night.

"It's like being in a neverending nightmare," Brown said. "You dream about it. You see it in your sleep. Then, we wake up in the morning, and we realize it's not a dream. It's real. ... It doesn't end for us."