Family Tragedy and "Buried Alive"

 

              My father was the playmate that survived the cave-in along with his sister, Wilma.  His Uncle Than, as he was called, died.  The following is from my Dad's story, "Buried Alive":

     "On that fateful day in August, my Uncle Than, who was a year younger than I, was visiting at our home.  Grandmother lived only five miles away in Logan and we often spent time at her home and she at ours.  Mother was the oldest child in her family, and I was number one in ours, which accounts for the unusual situation of Than being younger than I.  He and I, and my younger sister, Wilma, went with Dad to the school where he was going to prepare some lessons.  We were to play in the school grounds while he worked inside the building.  We soon became bored with the swings and decided to walk down the old field road to the place where a small stream crossed under a bridge to see what we could find.

     Over the years, the stream had deposited a large bank of fine silt and sand about fifty yards downstream from the bridge.  People had hauled sand from this bank to their homes.  The main bank of the stream was intact, but there was still evidence of numerous excavations a short distance off the road near the stream.  We began exploring the high bank of sand near the bend of the stream.   Our shoes came off first, and then we began in earnest to build houses, roads, and caves in the sand.  We were oblivious to anything going on around us.  The school playground and Dad's instructions were the farthest things from our minds. We soon began to build a small cave house.  We gathered some sticks from nearby to serve as tools, and then began to dig.

     Wilma, being a girl and smaller than us boys, couldn't dig as fast, so she was excluded from the choice part of the sand bank.  Than and I, side by side, were trying to outdo each other as we spaded away at the large mass of sand in front of us.  As we dug, little did we realize how quickly we had formed a large cave in the bank of the sand.  Within minutes the top of the bank towered at least six feet above our heads.  We were happily unaware of anything except the cool sand and our contest to build the best house.

     All of a sudden, however, a queer feeling came over me and then, whoosh!  The bank crumbled and all of the sand came down upon us.  I was pinned into a huddled, half sitting position, my head bent down toward my chest and knees.  A large chunk of hardened sand was pushing on the back of my head, and I was completely covered.  I attempted to struggle but could not move a muscle, not even a foot or a hand or my head.  I was buried with sand over my head and unable to do anything.  I struggled in vain to move even a small part of my body so I could work myself out of my newly formed grave, but nothing budged.  I was trapped.   For some reason, I felt no panic, perhaps because of the magnitude of the cave-in had not yet registered.  I sat there until I heard Wilma sobbing.  I called to her to help me out.  She responded that she couldn't because she was almost covered with sand.  I told her to try and dig out.  About a half-hour later, Wilma managed to twist herself out from the top of her long dress, which was covered with sand and holding her firmly in the bank.  Once she had removed the remaining sand, she scrambled from her half-buried position.  As she stood up and looked around she called out to me.  I asked her to uncover me.  Fortunately, the sand surrounding my head was caked and the large lumps left space for me to breathe; otherwise, I would have suffocated in a short time.  As it was, even though buried by about three feet of sand, I was able to breathe, but with some difficulty.  Wilma tried to remove some of the sand but couldn't accomplish much of anything.  I told her to go back to the school and bring Dad.  She must have been a sorry sight as she started down the half mile stretch of road to the school where Dad was working.  From what Dad said later, she had no dress on and blood was streaming down over her face from a small cut on her forehead.

     While Wilma was gone I tried to reconstruct what had happened.  I began wondering where Than was, as I had not heard him say anything since the sand came down on us.  Was he in he same position as I? Many questions raced through my mind as I waited.  About thirty minutes after leaving the cave-in, Wilma and Dad arrived on the scene.  Dad called out to me and I yelled as loud as I could.  Within a short time of careful maneuvering, he had the top of my head exposed.  He dug me out and asked where Than was.  I told him he was right here beside me when it happened.  Dad got a shovel from some place and began enlarging the hole where he had found me.  He soon came upon Than's little body lying close to where I had been.  He carried his still form to the Old Chevy and we started for home.  The fire department had been called and an attempt was made to restore life to Than's little body, but it was too late.  Our adventure turned into a tragedy.

     I had been at Than's side all of the time and for some unknown reason had been spared.  The large chunks of sand that fell around my head and the positioning of my body at the time the bank came over us had helped preserve my life, while my playmate's had been taken.  If Wilma had not been able to free herself so quickly, the story's end might have been different.  Than was called home, but my mission on earth was just beginning. "