"The three men returned to their steady digging, starting again at the lowest cleared natural terrace over the stone underneath, breaking up the barriers of mud, silt, debris, branches and such, and allowing the water in each terrace to flow downhill into the main stream, one by one, muddy water cleansing the river.  They used rakes, spades, shovels, crow bars... whatever they could lay hand to this morning.  Just before their self-appointed lunch time, they cleared a terrace that lead to a large tunnel.... almost as high or even higher than a standing man. The water and mud flowed out until the bottom of the pipe, for that was what it was.. a huge pipe under the roadway ... was nearly visible under a coating of mud.

“Should we walk through it to the next one?”, asked Mahomedi... then said in awe … “imagine that when the floodwaters were at their highest.'

Ladislav joined in – he was a man of few words, but when he spoke it was always worth the wait...

“I was here, on the road above, when the water was at its highest”, he said... “the water filled the pipe, no air space above, and you could see logs and stones and such coming out like cannon balls.... and people, I would expect... some people, though I never saw one.  Of which I am glad.”

The three men walked through the tunnel, the pipe under the road, until they reached the other end, where a heap of timber and debris had piled up, forming a small lake behind and upstream...

“Best we remove this carefully, one piece at a time.  We must try for a drain first so that it doesn't collapse on us”, said Wachaslaw... the others nodded sagely, and they set to.... one piece at a time... the water flowing down past their tall rubber boots and vanishing downstream, slowly and steadily draining the lake until they could begin to see mud appearing at its highest point.... from there the mud-filled water slowly receded.....

Suddenly Mahomedi cried out.. “LOOK!  That looks like a pair of hands rising above the mud!  Quickly – we must go to whoever it is!”

Ladislav put a hand on his shoulder... “Do not be too fast, my friend, there is still much mud and water, and you cannot help whoever that is now.  Let us drain this swamp first and then see.”

They dug aside the remaining obstructions as quickly as they could, then slipped and slid their way to the pair of hands. 

Wachaslaw took out his water bottle and washed first down the hands and arms, then where a face would be.... a face appeared under the skein of muddy water....

“It is a girl,” he said.... slowly the remaining water drained through the silt and mud until they could see the shape of the girl set in it.

Mahomedi and Wachaslav began to gently scrape the mud and silt away from around her body... trying not to touch her with their equipment and thus harm her any more......

Mahomedi stopped, saying, “Perhaps we should mark her and leave her for those following with equipment and such?”.

Wachaslaw pondered this for a moment, then said, pointing to the drowned girl - “What would SHE say?

Mahomedi nodded and they resumed scraping around the body of the young girl with her hands perpetually raised towards the morning sun... meanwhile Ladislaw was inspecting a small terrace to their right, perhaps 60 cm higher and towards the left river bank...

“There are more here!”, he called.... “two, perhaps three men, women or children!  I cannot tell yet!”

Wachaslaw asked over his shoulder without stopping his work,

“And what do they say to us?”

“They say that we need help, help, equipment, stretchers, and water.. clean water to wash them down.”

“Clean water to wash the river off them.”  Wachaslaw crossed himself....

Ladislav turned and began to make his way back downstream, seeking assistance..... the others continued working around the young girl.

When they paused for a break, the sun becoming warm on their coats, Mahomedi turned to Wachaslaw and asked,

“Who do you think they might be?  Jews, Mahomedans like me, Christians?”

Wachslaw turned up both hands in uncertainty,

“If we cannot identify them, we will never know...... they will all be buried under the same name.”

“What name is that?”, asked Mahomedi in mystification, “if they are not identified?”

“Unknown”, replied Wachaslaw.

In the distance, down the river, they heard the first trucks of the Canadian Army relief column arrive.... Ladislav would meet them and bring help....