Clarence Sasser was a quiet kid from Rosharon, Texas

down — to wait for evacuation, to stop, to accept that his body had reached its limit.

Sasser reached out, grabbed a fistful of thick grass, and pulled himself forward with his arms.

He crawled to the first man. Then the next. Then the next.

He ran out of clean bandages within the first hour. He started tearing fabric from the uniforms of the dead to continue reading …