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Unit 7 Emergency
Part I Pre-reading Task
Listen to the recording two or three times and then think over the following questions:
1. How did the father understand courage at first?
2. What did courage mean to the father after the fire was put out?
3. The poet says that firemen fight a war they can never win. What does he mean?
4. How does courage as described in the poem relate to the theme of the unit — emergency?
The following words in the recording may be new to you:
clad
（clothe的过去式和过去分词）穿上
armor
n. 盔甲（文中指防火衣）
at stake
在危险中
lair
n. 兽穴
talon
n. 魔爪
Part II Text A
At first it seemed as if it might just be an old box or rags ahead of the train. But then they realized just what it was.
"KIDS ON THE TRACK!"
Jack Murphy
Monday, May 1, 1989 was a pleasant morning in Ramsey, N.J. Kate Pritchard bent over her car trunk and struggled with the bags of groceries she'd just brought home. She heard the distant cry of a locomotive horn. The trains of Conrail passed less than 300 feet from the Pritchards' house. No fence separated their backyard from the track — only a thick row of trees. But, her sons, 3(1/2)-year-old Todd and 18-month-old Scott, were nearby, playing on the driveway.
"Stay right there," Kate said, "while Mommy puts the groceries away. Then we'll go inside and have lunch, okay?"
"Okay!" said Todd, giving a thumbs-up gesture he'd seen his father make.
"Okay!" echoed Scott, trying to copy his older brother.
They watched their mother enter the house with several bags.
Kate shut the refrigerator and hurried outside. Good. The boys were playing right where she'd left them.
As she lifted more bags from the trunk, Kate heard a train race past — a passenger express, she judged from its speed. She carried more bags into the house.
The sounds of the train apparently drew the boys' attention to the track. After making their way through the trees, they climbed to the top of the steep roadbed, knelt down along the railroad and began to play.
A few thousand feet west, a freight train rolled slowly toward the children. Overhead lights signaled to engineer Rich Campana that the passenger train ahead was out of the way, and they could resume their normal speed of 40 miles per hour. The engineer adjusted the accelerator, then turned to conductor Anthony Falzo, a man, medium in height and strongly built, who had worked for Conrail for almost half of his 35 years.
"So what'd you do over the weekend, Anthony?"
"Oh, not much. Mostly messing around — a little TV, then bed. What else?"
Campana smiled. "Hey, you'd better cool down, Anthony — you're getting to be a real party animal!"
The two men laughed. They were still laughing as the train began gathering speed, moving at 21 miles per hour.
Rich and Anthony spotted something ahead at the same instant.
"What's that up there?" asked the engineer. Anthony didn't answer. Staring intently, he was trying to identify the curious shape on the track ahead. A box? Old rags?
Suddenly both men realized what it was. Rich threw on the emergency brake and pulled on the air-horn handle with all his strength.
The horn's blast and Anthony's words exploded at the same time: "Kids on the Track!"
Anthony sprang through the cab door onto a narrow running board six feet above the wheels and raced to the front of the swaying train. Climbing quickly down a steel ladder, he paused at the bottom, two feet above the roadbed flashing by.
Now he could clearly see the two little children. They were sitting alongside the rail. Anthony waved wildly and shouted, "Get away! Get away!"
He mentally calculated the train's deceleration rate and groaned. We'll never stop in time.
Absorbed in play, Todd and Scott did not hear the train. Finally, as the sound became thunderous, Scott looked up and froze.
Though the train was slowing, Anthony knew it was still going faster than he could run. So he forced himself to wait until he would be close enough to leap off and grab the boys. With perhaps ten feet left between them and the sharp-edged snowplow blade at the front of the train, Anthony sprang forward from the ladder. Landing on the loose, fist-size stones alongside the track, he had to struggle to keep his balance. In two giant steps he almost reached the children. They stared up at him in wide-eyed shock. Anthony, throwing his body into space, flew toward them.
The unending blast of the train horn struck Kate Pritchard like a hammer blow. "The boys! " she cried, and raced out the door. They were gone!
The track, she thought. I must get to the track!
As his body crashed downward, Anthony covered Todd while reaching out with one arm to grab Scott and pull him clear of the track. But the train had caught up to them. Anthony saw the black steel edge of the snowplow blade hit the young child under the chin, driving his head back and scraping over his face. Instantly, blood flashed across the boy's forehead.
Part of the train then punched into the back of Anthony's work jacket, tearing the nylon fabric. Still, Anthony managed to pull Scott completely under him.
He's dead, Anthony thought. He felt sick with horror. Burying his face in the stones, he pushed downward on the two boys with all his strength as the train passed inches above them.
The first person Kate saw when she reached the halted train was Todd. Her older boy was jumping up and down and crying uncontrollably. But Kate could see he wasn't injured. She grabbed and hugged him. Then she saw the still figure of a man lying under the third car. Scott's head, a mask of darkening blood, was visible under him. Kate ran to them. "Scott!" she screamed.
Anthony twisted to face her. "Lady," he said, his voice calm, "go to your house. Call the police and ambulance." Kate, only half hearing him, extended her arms to take her baby. Anthony spoke again, more sharply, "Ma'am, listen! Go to your house and call the police — call an ambulance. Go!"
Kate tore back to the house, made the calls, then reached her husband, Gary, via his beeper.
When the first police car arrived, Anthony was still holding little Scott. The conductor knew from the child's cries that he was alive, but Scott might have internal injuries that any movement could worsen. So Anthony insisted the emergency personnel check the boy before he would release his grip. Miraculously, Scott's injuries were not serious, requiring just 13 stitches.
There had only been 14 inches between the plow blade and the ground. Reporters later asked Anthony if he had hesitated before risking his life.
"No," he replied. "All I could think was that those two little kids have their whole lives still ahead of them, and if I do nothing, they're dead. There was no way I could let that happen."
Soon after the incident, Anthony visited the Pritchards' home. He recalls putting his arms around Todd and Scott and lifting them. "It made me remember the moment when I first sheltered them under the train. It was a strange feeling, holding them again — and wonderful too."
Since that first visit, the Pritchards say that Anthony has almost become a member of the family. They also report that a fence now separates their neighborhood from the railroad track.
(1161 words)
