I lost my head for a second. What if the house was on fire? How bad was Dad? I yelled for Ma: "The Boss is hurt, come up!" Ma took one look at Dad and almost passed out. Our clear-headed maid brought a basin of water as I ran for the towels. She took over, dipping the towels in water and wiping his head — blood spilling everywhere. I went into my room to get my shoes, accidentally kicking a piece of shrapnel under my chair.

— "Okay Pa?"

— "Okay".

— "I'll go get Dr. Alberto or Dr. Ayesa," I said, putting on my shoes in a mad rush.

Ma stopped me: "Not yet," she said, "not yet." The Japanese mortars had resumed firing a minute earlier and the Americans were shooting back. I waited ... 6 or 7 BIG explosions later I stepped out into an empty street. There was a commotion in the Bachrach house and the smell of fire. An excited lad who worked next door stepped out and I asked him where Doctor Alberto was.

— "In the house," he said, pointing to the White House, "Mrs. Lerocque has been badly hurt."

— "My dad too. Where's Dr. Ayesa?" I knew Ayesa wasn't home but I sent the lad for him anyway. Mrs. Altwegg appeared, left, and rushed back with a neat First Aid package. Doctor Ayesa turned up with a big black case, looking as important as we all knew he was in a crisis.

"OK. Scalp wounds always bleed plenty. This one — only two wounds — didn't go deep enough to do any damage." He left us in Mrs. Altwegg's care and joined Dr. Alberto with Mrs. Lerocque. René Klingler showed up in a jeep then turned around to get an ambulance while Mrs. Lerocque was transferred to the Bernards. She had compound arm and leg fractures and was still losing blood from various wounds. The prompt arrival of an ambulance surprised us plenty. Asked for splints, the driver, a pleasant chap by the name of Bob Metheus, replied: "Sure Doctor, anything you want we've got. There's more things in this truck than I know about, even with my experience." We gathered around and cooed at the equipment inside ... what service! Two Americans carried a silent and determined Mrs. Lerocque down the stairs on a stretcher.

"Look out," she said in her heavy French accent, "don't let me fall."

"Don't worry Madame, I'll guard you with my life," said the gallant Bob. The remark went over big. The poor lady, about 24 years of age and with four children including a baby several months old just found out yesterday that she lost her husband.

continues...