But she was unable to walk and she used her last bit of strength to push me away. “You have to go on for both of us,” she said. Then, with effort, she reached into her pocket and I was surprised when she handed me not one thing, but two.

“Take it,” she breathed. “Tell him...” And I leaned close, waiting to receive the message that she wanted me to deliver. But she closed her eyes then, and the words never came.

I put my hand on her shoulder and shook her gently as if to revive her, but she did not respond. “No!” I cried as the reality sank in. She was dying. My friend, the one who had given everything for me, would not survive. I lowered my head close to hers, my tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Her breathing slowed.

When her chest rose and fell no more, I held her for several seconds. I wanted to take her with me. I knew that I couldn’t carry her up the high ledge to get out of the chamber. The water in the basin continued to rise. In another few seconds, it would overtake the ledge and I would drown as well. Still I held her, wiped the wet locks of hair from her beautiful face. My heart screamed. We had sworn to leave the sewer together. How could I abandon her now?

I kissed her cheek, the salt of my tears mixing with the dirty, bitter water. She deserved a proper burial in a cemetery with flowers. Of course, that was impossible. Still, I would not leave her here for the Germans to find. Straining, I lifted her body and pushed it from the ledge, returning her to the water. Her face, peaceful and calm, lingered a second above the surface before it slipped below the waters and she disappeared as the sewer claimed her for its own.

Then I began my final climb to freedom.

When I reached the riverbank, I stood motionless, trying to catch my breath. A foghorn sounded long and low from a boat unseen down the river. My wounds screamed with pain and I didn’t know how I would go on from here at all, much less on my own.

Just then, I saw a familiar face appear over the horizon. My heart filled with joy. I had not imagined that he was still alive or would have waited. Seeing me, he sprinted forward, his face happy and relieved.

Then as he neared and realized I was alone, darkness clouded his eyes. “Where is she?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not wanting to deliver the news that would surely break him. “There was a flood. She saved me, but she didn’t make it out alive.” His eyes went hollow with grief. “I did everything I could,” I added.

“I know.” There was a note of resignation in his voice. He did not blame me. That any of us would have made it, much less all, was simply too much to hope. Still, the loss was a grievous one and I saw in his pained eyes how very much he had loved her.