by Walt Gragg
“His heartbeat’s really strong,” the medic said. “But he’s got to be badly dehydrated. How long’s it been since the attack?”
“Twenty-six hours,” someone in the crowd volunteered.
“We need to check him real close for shock and exposure,” the other medic said.
“Let’s get him into the ambulance and get an IV in him,” the first medic said. “Then why don’t you look him over real good while I climb back down into the basement to see if there’s any chance the person they spotted next to where the baby was found is still alive.”
The seven rescuers watched as the whimpering child was taken to the ambulance. Each felt a soaring roller coaster of emotions rush through them at incalculable speed. Their pride spewed forth. It swelled in their chests and burst into their battered brains. For the rest of their existence, they’d know they’d saved a life. But at the same time, they also understood that more than twenty others, dead or alive, were still buried beneath the unyielding jumble of the demolished building.
Their herculean task had a long way to go.
By the time the medic returned to the abyss, the sergeant major and the teenage boy had uncovered the area around the outstretched arm. The rest of Kathy’s body remained securely encased in its tomb of suffocating wreckage. The rescuers were unable to see anything in the devastation beyond the exposed limb.
“It’s got to be Kathy,” Williams said.
“You know who it is, Sergeant Major?” the boy asked.
“Yeah, it’s got to be Christopher’s mother, Kathy O’Neill. She and her husband lived across the hall from us on the second floor.”
The medic took his stethoscope and held it on Kathy’s bluish forearm. He listened for a second and pulled it away. He quickly placed it back on the outstretched arm. This time he listened for what seemed an eternity.
“My God,” the medic said, “I’ve got a pulse. It’s weak, but I’m certain I heard it. Whoever’s under there is alive.”
Harold Williams struggled with the medic’s startling news. The wonderful possibilities created by the medic’s surprising revelation were unmistakable. If Kathy’s alive, there’s hope for the rest. If Kathy’s alive, his family could be, too. There was one thing the sergeant major realized with resounding clarity. Dead or alive, he wouldn’t allow himself a minute’s rest until he’d accounted for everyone buried in this unspeakable place.
“Are you sure?” the sergeant major asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Listen for yourself.”
He handed Williams the stethoscope. The medic helped him place the instrument on Kathy’s arm. The sergeant major held his breath and listened.
There it was. The heartbeat was weak but definitely present. A wide grin spread across Williams’s dirt-streaked face.
“What are we waiting for! There’s another one down here to save!”
“We’d better hurry, Sergeant Major,” the medic said. “It doesn’t sound like she can last much longer.”
The word spread through the crowd like a lightning bolt. Another one down there to save. There were eighty eager hands grasping at the edge of the hole, each wanting to be a part of the miraculous rescue. It was, however, still the sergeant major’s show.
He surveyed the task in front of them.
“We’ve got to get this beam off her first.”
After many hours of laborious practice, the boy had become an expert at judging the effort involved in clearing the next rubble pile.
“Probably take a dozen of us to get something that big out of here and up to ground level.”
The sergeant major turned to the crowd. “Carefully, very carefully, I need twelve people to climb down and help us clear this beam away. Then I need another group at the edge of the pit to lift it out of here once we get it up to you.”
A dozen people, women and teenagers mostly, climbed into the hole.
“Careful,” Williams said, “careful where you walk. There may be other survivors down here.” The hope in his voice was genuine.
The group set about the onerous task. They had to hurry. But one mistake could be fatal. They warily freed the rubble from around the ancient beam. Then, with the sergeant major as their anchor, the group put their backs into it. Ever so slowly, the giant monolith rose from the grave. The end nearest Kathy’s arm was raised a few feet into the air. The sergeant major slipped beneath the twelve-hundred-pound slab. With his broad back in place, he guaranteed that no matter what it took, the beam would never be allowed to return to the pile.
Others rushed into the space the sergeant major had created. The slab was torturously lifted from the ground. With all their might, the group succeeded in propping the imposing pillar against the side of the hole. From there it was easy. Above them, twenty-five sets of hands clawed for a firm grip on the monolith. The massive beam was dragged up to ground level and pushed aside. The last impediment to Kathy’s rescue had disappeared.
“Great job! Great job!” Williams said.
Their task completed, the twelve climbed back out of the basement.
The medic and the teenage boy went to work clearing the area above Kathy’s arm. The sergeant major went after where he expected Kathy’s legs to be.
In ten minutes, the job was completed.
“Jesus!” the sergeant major said. “Get over here quick.”
One look at Kathy’s leg and the medic knew what they faced. The leg was severely twisted. A razor-sharp piece of jagged bone was sticking through the skin just below her right knee.
“Man,” the medic said, “that’s the worst-looking compound fracture I’ve ever seen.”
The boy had just finished uncovering Kathy’s head.
“You’d better take a look at this, too.”
The medic examined the area where Kathy’s head had suffered the greatest blow from the falling beam.
“Looks like a possible skull fracture,” the medic said.
The coagulated blood in Kathy’s once-beautiful hair was thick and matted.
“Nasty gash to the back of her head. Going to take a lot of stitches to sew that up. I need a stretcher and some splints down here right away!” the medic yelled to those at ground level.
“Is she gonna make it?” the boy asked.
“I don’t know. She’s in pretty bad shape, and she’s obviously lost a lot of blood. There’s the stretcher. Can you get it for me? I want to look her over real close before we try to move her.”
“Sure,” the boy said. He picked his way through the rubble to the side of the hole. The stretcher was passed down.
The medic began a further examination, checking her arms and left leg. Next came the torso.
“Oh, no.”
“What?” the sergeant major said. He barely recognized the unconscious rag doll of a person lying on the cold cement. This couldn’t possibly be the pretty young woman so full of life he’d last seen just yesterday morning.
“I think her back’s broken,” the medic said.
“Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not. I won’t be until we get her out of here and up to the ambulance, where I can get a better look at what we face. Tell Bill to get an IV and a backboard down here as soon as he can!”
Moments later, Laurie scrambled into the pit with a backboard, IV, and a long needle.
“Stay here, Laurie,” Williams said. “It’ll probably take four of us to maneuver the backboard through this maze once we get her on it. Do you think you can handle the job?”
The girl stared at Kathy’s twisted form. She nodded yes.
“First the IV,” the medic said. “After that, I’ll need to immobilize her leg before we try to do anything else. We don’t dare turn her over. Once I get her leg ready, we’ll strap the backboard on her as she lies. If her back’s broken, we can’t move her until she’s securely strapped onto
the board. One mistake, and we could paralyze her for life.”
The medic gripped the IV bag in his teeth. He bent down and found himself an inviting vein. He jabbed the needle into her arm. Satisfied with the IV’s placement, he taped it in place.
“Laurie, come over here and hold the IV while I immobilize her leg,” the medic said.
The girl took the IV from the medic.
“Hold it up high enough that it doesn’t get tangled and stop flowing.”
“Okay.”
The medic started working on the fracture. Where the sharp piece of splintered bone had pierced the skin, it protruded two inches outside the leg.
The medic placed a slat on each side of the shattered leg.
“Sergeant Major, I’ll need you to give me a hand with this.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Hold the splints in place while I wrap them.”
It didn’t take long to complete the job. “That’ll have to do,” the medic said. “I think it’ll stay together until we can get her to the field hospital. Now comes the fun part.”
“What do we do next?”
“We’ve got to strap the backboard on her tightly. Once that’s done, we’ll lift her straight up, turn her over, and carry her out. If all goes well, we won’t kill her in the process. Sergeant Major, you and Ryan get on the other side. I’ll thread the straps under her. You’ll have to reach beneath her body and pull them through.”
The medic picked up the backboard. He covered Kathy with it. Satisfied with the board’s positioning, he knelt and inched the first strap beneath her legs.
“Put your hand under her legs real careful there, Ryan, and pull the strap through.”
The boy reached under Kathy’s legs and located the strap. “I’ve got it.”
“Pull it through and strap it as tight as you can to the board.”
The boy pulled the strap up and buckled it in place. “All done.”
Three additional straps were threaded beneath her torso. When the task was finished, the medic checked everything one final time.
“Okay, we seem to be all set. Everyone get a corner. We’ll need to turn her over before we do anything else. Try to lift her as evenly as you can.”
The four took their positions.
“Ready?” the medic asked.
His companions indicated they were.
“Okay, on three . . . one . . . two . . . three!”
They lifted the backboard straight up. The straps were as snug as they could possibly be under the circumstances. Still, Kathy’s pummeled body pressed against them as she was lifted into the air.
Searing pain ripped through her. Consciousness leaped into her tortured soul. Screams of anguish crushed the quiet afternoon.
Three sets of concerned eyes looked into the medic’s.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s get her turned over. Once that’s done, we’ll get the pressure off her, and she’ll be a lot more comfortable. Flip her over, real easy.”
They turned her right side up. Kathy screamed again. The pain was too much to bear. She passed out once more.
“All right,” the medic said, “let’s get her out of here and into the ambulance.”
• • •
“Kathy . . . Kathy O’Neill,” the sergeant major said. His voice was sweet and comforting.
Kathy’s mind told her she knew that voice.
The gentle voice entered the darkness of her terrifying world once again. “Kathy . . . Kathy, can you hear me?”
“Wha . . . what?” she said. Her response was less than a whisper. And she couldn’t yet find the strength to open her eyes.
“It’s me, Kathy, Harold Williams from next door. You remember, don’t you?”
“Yes, I remember. Where am I?”
“You’re in an ambulance. We just brought you up from the basement. You know, Kathy, the basement.”
The basement! Her eyes flew open wide. She fought to lift her head. Unspeakable pain raced at her from every part of her body.
“Easy, Kathy,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“I can’t move. Why can’t I move?”
“You’ve been immobilized by the medics. You’re badly hurt. Try to lie still.”
“My baby! Where’s my baby!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, but it left her parched throat as little more than an anguished gasp.
“He’s right here, Kathy,” Williams said. “He’s fine. A little dehydrated, and very dirty. And he’s really quite angry. But he doesn’t have a scratch on him.”
A weak smile formed on Kathy’s tortured lips.
“Kathy, I need your help. You and Christopher are the only ones we’ve found so far. I know it’s difficult, but you’ve got to concentrate for me. Where was everyone else when the building collapsed?”
He could tell she didn’t understand.
He tried again.
“Kathy, where were my wife and boys when the building fell?”
There was still no sign of recognition in Kathy’s eyes.
“Kathy, where’s Clara?”
“Clara? Clara’s right here next to me in the laundry room.”
“Where are the others, Kathy?”
“Others?”
“Yes, Kathy. Where are the other women and children in the basement?”
“The others are in the storage room across the hall. They’re hiding from the Russian planes.”
Williams could hardly contain his excitement. He had what he needed now. He knew where to dig. The sergeant major pulled up a filthy sleeve and checked his watch. There were nearly two hours of daylight left. He couldn’t free them all by then. Still, two hours would be more than enough to clear the remaining wreckage from the laundry room.
By sundown, he’d know his family’s fate. By midnight, he’d have reached all the women and children.
“Kathy, I’ve got to get back and help the others dig. You lie still. As soon as the medics have finished examining you, they’re taking you and Christopher over to the mobile hospital they’ve set up at the airfield. Good luck, honey.”
He gently patted her hand.
And with that, he was gone.
• • •
Just before midnight, the sergeant major pulled the last tiny body from the debris. He took the child to the edge of the hole and handed her up to the waiting arms.
The dead child, a girl of five, was carried over and placed in the snow with the others. Twenty-one bodies, all in a row, lay in the shimmering moonlight.
For the seven deliverers, thirty-six hours of soul-devouring effort were finally over. Their horrific journey had reached its end.
After the rescue of Kathy and Christopher, they’d located no more survivors in what remained of Building 2417.
The sergeant major wandered back to the spot in the laundry room where he’d discovered the bodies of his wife and sons. The hulking figure dropped onto the cold cement. He started to sob uncontrollably. Tears flowed from his unseeing eyes. His sorrow ran in torrents down his dirt-streaked face.
The rescue had been a triumph for the spirit of man.
Harold Williams had saved two lives. In a few weeks, the sergeant major would come to realize that he’d always have this small victory to carry him through the rest of a long, lonely life.
CHAPTER 46
January 30—3:47 p.m.
1st Platoon, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 69th Armor, 3rd Heavy Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division
At the Crossroads of Highway 19 and Autobahn A7
The leading Russian tank turned west off the long-ago-deserted north–south autobahn. The T-72 started up the narrow highway. In the gunner’s position of Richardson’s M1 Abrams, Anthony Warrick watched his main gun’s laser range finder lock in the
T-72’s coordinates. The enemy was less than a mile away. The armored column was taking its time as it waited for a handful of stragglers to catch up. In the enveloping dusk of late afternoon, Richardson and his crew prepared to open fire. They sat waiting for the order to come from the platoon’s command tank.
In the command tank, Lieutenant Mallory called out over the radio to 2nd Battalion headquarters. “Echo-Yankee-One, this is Sierra-Kilo-One-One.”
“This is Echo-Yankee-One. Go ahead, Sierra-Kilo-One-One.”
“Echo-Yankee-One, we’re in contact with an enemy formation of a dozen heavy tanks, supported by what appears to be a company of infantry in BMPs. This force is presently leaving Autobahn A7 and turning west onto Highway 19. In the distance, we can see another armored column of equal size heading down the autobahn toward our position. Request immediate air support. Say again, request immediate air support.”
“Sierra-Kilo-One-One, wait one.”
The three-tank platoon waited as the radio operator conferred with the battalion commander.
“Sierra-Kilo-One-One, be advised, we’ve nothing available at this time. Eliminate as much of the first column as you can, then withdraw to your secondary fighting position.”
“Roger, Echo-Yankee-One. We copy. Attack enemy and withdraw to secondary position. Will do.”
The Americans still controlled the skies over most of the battle zone. Yet with the tremendous losses of the past thirty-six hours, there were no longer enough Apaches, Warthogs, or Multiple Launch Rocket Systems to assist many of the ground forces. In the coming days, the men of the 3rd Infantry Division were going to often find themselves on their own.
“Well, you heard the man,” Mallory said into the radio. “Looks like we’re alone on this one. Greene, Richardson, prepare to fire on the enemy column.”
“Roger,” Greene said.
“Will do, Lieutenant,” Richardson said. “Preparing to fire.”
“Richardson, Warrick’s still got the leader. My team will take the second one. Greene, you’re on the third.”