PATHETIC SEARCH FOR RELATIVES AND FRIENDS
At the heads of the lines of coffins stood anxious men and women, many of them survivors, looking for relatives and friends. Each coffin lid was lifted by one of the searchers while others crowded close to get a glimpse at the body inside. The line moved constantly. One lid would be dropped with a low toned “No” and the searcher would raise the lid of the next coffin, just dropped by the person ahead.
Occasionally a low moan of a man or the muffled scream of a woman broke the silence. “Oh, Mary!” “My husband!” or some name of endearment was uttered.
One particularly pathetic figure was an elderly Australian named Byrne, who had after years of saving started out with his wife and daughter on a tour of the world. He had been saved, but both wife and daughter had met their death. He seemed too overcome even to realize his loss, and rambled about, aimlessly looking at the tagged numbers on the coffins and muttering: “Would to God I had gone with them.” Their bodies were not found in the list.
Another old man sat beside the coffins silently weeping, and asked all he met if they would not get him a newspaper so that he might find what had become of his family.