Mcallen Daily Press

Agony Moments
In Plunge Told

LONDON, June 18 (UP)—Auxiliary Fireman Jack Read, 27, was standing on a bridge connecting the two top floors of Lambert Hospital, London, 40 feet above the ground when a bomb crashed beneath the bridge blowing it into the air and Read with it.

When he woke up in hospital the first thing he did was to record his impressions in a diary. That was four months ago, and at the time he never thought he would recover, but today he is back at his post.

Here are some extracts through amazing diary:

"I am hurled upwards through the air at a terrifying speed. At the top of my flight I seem to be stationary for a second. I am conscious of a brilliant light from the exploding bomb, and in this instant I see the bridge breaking up underneath me.

"Kirby (the officer-in-charge) is flying through the air and the light is playing on his polished brass epaulettes.

"There is the roar of the explosion and the rumble of falling masonry. Then it is dark, I begin to turn over and over as I fall. I know that I have a long way to drop and I imagine that I shall be killed when I reach the ground. I let my body go limp because I think that by doing this I will possibly avoid violent fractures.

"I wonder how much it is going to hurt. There is still a loud rumbling of falling debris, and I feel my forehead become moist against the wind as something grazes the skin.

"It seems to me I have already been falling a week. I begin to feel annoyed—annoyed at the thought of dying before this war is finished.

"All my life I have watched civilization in revolt: first creeping, then a stampede. It would have been so interesting, so exciting.

"Here I am turning crazily over and over and falling towards my doom. I am annoyed. Then I wonder again how hard the ground is going to be.

"I am conscious of the fact that I have stopped falling. There is a pain in my left arm, but I can't think that I am alive. A piece of debris, a door frame or something, lands across my chest, but its full force is taken by the debris that is on the other side of me. I welcome the twinge in my chest.

"I must still be alive. I attempt to raise the debris, but my left arm will not respond to the impulse. My right arm is active, and I manage to get up and walk toward a group of dim lights that are appearing in front of me."

The diary, written in hospital ends: "I go off to sleep after saying my prayers for the first time in years."