Black columns of smoke began rising from ominous red furnace flames beneath, and curled lazily into the balm of the upper air, indifferent to the wails of the helpless unfortunates maimed and pinned beneath the wrecked buildings of a demolished and burning city.
The murky smoke like mourning crape hung mutely above, while beneath its canopy life’s sacrificial offering lay prostrate, the dying and the dead. The consuming flames spread quickly, and the horror of the hopeless condition of the injured was soon apparent, while the sobs and cries of the doomed victims became maddening because of the very impotency to succor them.
The suddenness of it all did not give time for the rescuers. Then too, the smoke-blinded and half-choked people in the crowded, congested streets were stampeding toward the open country—to Golden Gate Park and the Presidio. Many of the trapped victims, well and strong, might have escaped but could not exert normal power to shake off the fetters that held them down under fallen wreckage too heavy for their hampered strength. It was a veritable bedlam, some cursing, some praying, most all crying loudly as if in crazed pain for assistance.
The first paroxysm passed, the poor unfortunates seemingly became more patient, believing that relief would surely come. The crackling flames mounted higher and came alarmingly nearer. Finally, as the conflagration with a hurried sweep began to envelop these pinioned human beings, they shrieked in agony like lost souls in terrible anguish at a most horrible and certain death. Their voices rose with the rising of the flames until at last the piteous cries were hushed perforce, and only the crackling sound of burning wood and the forked tongues of raging red fire greeted the sun, that morning of April 18, as it climbed above the eastern mountains and looked upon the scene of woeful destruction.
Is it any wonder that strong men wept? Is it to be marveled at that those separated from friends and relatives grew bewildered, frantic and crazed with grief and fear, and that chaos reigned supreme?
Gradually amid the whirl of emotions there stepped forth men who until now had been stunned into silence and temporarily bereft of reason. The first staggering shock passed, they became possessed in a measure with calmness and courage. They girded their belts afresh and although many of them began by cursing the heartless, cruel fire and the terribleness of it all, they quickly and determinedly turned to the stupendous work of endeavoring to subdue its ravages.
Then a new terror raised its ghostly head and held the people in a grip of deepest despair. The earthquake had broken the supplying water mains, and presently the city was without water and the fire engines and other fire-fighting apparatus were worthless junk. It was a grievous blow to momentarily raised hopes and courageous resolution.
The flames raged on with the fleetness of race horses, eating out the heart of the city, burning it into cinders, and cremating the flesh and bone of fallen victims.
Dynamite was brought into use, gunny sacks and bedding of all sorts were saturated with water from barrels and tanks. Grappling hooks and human hands made up the armament of puny defense against the over-powering and masterful flames of annihilation.
Against these feeble weapons, the grim demon of fire planned an attack of certain devastation. It was as if his Satanic Majesty with all his imps were in their ruthless cunning directing a fiendish work that would permit no record but death to the unfortunate, no record to the proud city but gaunt-ribbed skeleton buildings, red hot cinders and blackened ash heaps.