and coffee, no matter what!" she answered calmly, as she gently stuffed a big piece of Danish into her rosebud mouth.      We all ran into the halls to find our way out of the building. While we were crowding in the hallways near the elevators, we were being ordered by a self-appointed boss to wait for the elevators.      My instincts told me to head for the stairway.      "Let's go down the stairs," I said as I grabbed Grace. "It's safer."      "No, I can't," Grace replied. "My knee hurts too much. I'll wait for the elevators and take a chance."      "Not me," Joan exclaimed. "I'll go down the steps with you."      Each floor had two long flights of steps between landings. As we were running down the steps, hundreds of people poured in from the lower floors forcing us out of their way so they could join the terrified procession. We were showered with falling debris consisting of broken glass andplaster. It covered our faces and clothing. It was falling on us from every which way.      As we were running down the steps, we noticed that they were covered with red liquid. We didn't know what it was, but I thought it looked like gasoline.      "Oh God, please don't end my life here today," I prayed with all my heart, every step of the way. "I'm just eighteen and I haven't lived yet. Please spare me and I will forever do your bidding and honor you."      He heard me above the cattle-sounding roar of the horror-stricken crowd that raced down the steps like a stampeding herd. We heard the sound of hundreds of screaming sirens getting closer. One hundred and twelve flights later—out of breath and with legs so sore and muscles	so cramped we could hardly walk—we were on the ground floor!      As we dashed out of the building the crowds behind the roped-off area applauded us. We were safe! The Red Cross brushed off our clothes as they donut-ed and coffee-ed us. We were survivors, but of what? Why this hero's welcome?      I had forgotten all about my arm hurting, but then it started to ache.      "What happened?" I asked the nurse as she put my arm in a sling. I still didn't know, but I thanked God we arrived safely to the ground floor.      "Look over there," said the nurse, just before she turned to help some- one else, "then go to 5th Avenue and look up."      I looked, and saw a large aircraft engine on the ground. At 5th Avenue, suspended in full sight high up in the side of the Empire State Building, I recognized the fuselage and tail end of a twin-engine B-25 bomber!      "I thought it was a bomb, but it was a bomber," I said to Joan, who was hanging on. to me, still badly shaken, and added, *'l know all about that plane and it's engines."      I asked a policeman what floor it had hit, and he abruptly said, "79th," as he continued pushing back the noisy crowds.      My heart skipped a beat and I turned to Joan.      "I applied for a job up there two months ago," I exclaimed. "Those Catholics saved my life. If they had hired me I might not have been here to tell this story."      "Gee, they might have hired me," giggled Joan, who was Catholic. "Then I'd be a dead duck." Not so funny.      It was later determined that three employees, who had been sitting at their desks in the Catholic War Relief
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