I was too stunned at first to think what it meant. I was conscious only of pain, horrible pain, such as I had never dreamed of before. I could not cry out, I could not move. Oh, would help never come?
What was this horrible thing that had happened? A moment ago—no, was it not an hour ago?—we were alive and well; and now? Oh, why had God let this horrible thing happen? And Mildred—where was she? Perhaps she was dead; and I should be dead too very soon, and nothing would matter much.
I remember thinking then, strangely enough, “I am glad she has made her will.”
Suddenly a dull glow, a gleam of light, then a hoarse yell of despair from a score of voices, “Da ist Feuer!” “The train is on fire!”
My heart stopped beating. Were the horrors of a holocaust to be added to this agony?
Oh, the long, fearful minutes! A horrid glare lit up the blackness of the night, and nearer, nearer crept the crackling flames!
O Christ! will no one come to rescue us, will not the clouds in mercy pour down their treasures to stop this demon flame!
But no! The rain had ceased, and on, on, steadily on came the frightful scorching flames.
It was now as light as day. In the red glare I could see black figures moving swiftly, men running wildly about and desperately pulling and tearing at the splintered sides of the car.
But oh, how feeble all their efforts! How utterly futile seemed all human strength to cope with these frightful forces that held us relentlessly in their grasp!