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“Listen, Willia out So you can either die in aon”

She draws the shovel to her, turns it aardly, and stabs it weakly into the dirt beneath Williams’s face It is immediately apparent that this will never do because she has nowhere to put the dirt she digs out It will pile up but then tuht back down

The sergeant, looking down froht, sees the problem and says, “Get me a poncho Now!”

In less than a eant has flapped the poncho down, like a housewife ie’s left

Frangie digs out another spadeful, and Williams screams

Another spadeful, and another, and Williaeant carefully draws the poncho and the dirt up the slope He empties it and returns the poncho

This process is repeated a dozen ti her eyes tear up and her nose run and causing her legs to go nueing After twenty h to clear her head

“Water,” she gasps She upends a proffered canteen and some sensible fellow drains a second canteen over her head Then she slithers back down and the slow, slow digging proceeds anew

Finally she notices that Williaht In the light she can peer ahead and see that a sap has opened between Williams’s back and the bottom of the tank His shirt is soaked red

With infinite care despite the treers down his back until she finds the place where a shattered rib sticks out She feels around the hole; there shouldn’t be an artery there, but she has to be sure Has he lost so o into shock?

“Passdirt “All right, Willia you the shot now” She stabs down into his shoulder and squeezes the blessed pain relief into hiether”

This brings a fresh cry of agony, but Williams can sense the possibility of life now, and he does it He has big hands, the calloused hands of a ie passes the rope over thehten the knot

“Okay, Sarge, pull me up first,” she yells

She is yanked up like a cork popping frone

The sergeant takes over “Okay, boys, on the rope and pull, but slow and easy”