"Where'd you come from? Bomb blow your clothes off? It happens."
I pointed to the pile of bricks and junk that marked my house.
"There's a man buried in those ruins, but he's alive," I said. "Just trapped. You'll have to dig him out."
The warden blew his whistle and out of the turmoil three other men came with picks and equipment and began to dig.
But it was two days before they finally got to him—and by that time he was dead.