"Yes."

"Your other arm?"

"No."

"Your right leg hurt?"

"Yes."

"You have pain anywhere else?"

"No."

"Your chest hurt?"

"No."

"Breathe okay?"

"Yes."

"Pain in your belly?"

"No."

"Pain in your back?"

"No."

"You ever been in the hospital before?"

"No."

"You ever had an operation before?"

"No."

"Any heart trouble?"

"No."

"Any trouble with your kidneys?"

"No."

"You allergic to anything?"

"No."

"Can you see me all right?"

"Yes."

The resident held up his hand, fingers spread wide. "How many fingers?"

"Five. I'm thirsty. Can I have a drink?"

"Yes, but not now."

By now the orthopedists had concluded their examination. Conamente had fractures of his left arm and right leg.

Out in the hallway, another group was working on Thomas Savio, who complained of difficulty in breathing, pain in his chest, and pain in his lower abdomen. He had a large bruise over his right hip. There was a possibility of pelvic and rib fractures. A laceration on his forehead, while bleeding profusely, was superficial. He was wheeled off for X rays.

Meanwhile, in OR 1, attempts at resuscitation were discontinued on Ralph Orlando. Half an hour had passed since his arrival in the hospital. The resuscitation team filed out to help with the other patients, and the door to the room was closed, leaving behind two nurses to remove the intravenous lines and catheters and drape the body in a sheet.

Out in the lobby, John Lamonte, one of the workers, sat in a wheelchair and described what had happened. He was the least injured of all the men, though he had fallen from a height of thirty-five feet. "We were on a scaffolding," he said, "building an airplane hangar. There were three scaffoldings, all about thirty-five or forty feet up. One of them blew down in the wind. It came down real slow, like a dream. There were about twelve people on it, and some underneath." As he spoke, he gathered a crowd of listeners.