byThe little man with the gray beard stared at me and I stared back at him. “This is getting us nowhere,” I remarked, “nowhere at all.”
He nodded and sat down on the hard stone. We were trapped under the building. The house had come down over us when the bomb landed in the street. The rest of the tenants were probably away or dead. Apparently only the little old man who lived on the second floor rear and I had gotten down to the bomb-proof cellar in time. And now we were trapped.
“We’ll have to wait until they dig us out,” I said. We couldn’t possibly dig our own way out. Too much blocked us in. We were buried beneath tons of brick, rubbish and beams. They were probably busy in the street outside, trying to rescue the people in other, less-damaged buildings. Then again there might be fir
