The roof tiles are scattered across the grounds. His operating theatre is now a cellar. The staff and the wounded live on tea, bread and pickles. They do what they can and then send the wounded home. The street comes to a standstill with the sound of the first plane of the day.
Men freeze with their heads back and their ears pricked, ready for fight or flight.
Except they cannot fight. So they move off the streets, slowly and defiantly. But Dr Delhigo spins down the street in his Lada and into the first basement. He is vulnerable but has a job to do. Of course I'm frightened.