Despite being a firefighter for 30 years, I was nowhere close to being prepared for what awaited me on what would turn out to be the deadliest night of the decade. The devastating earthquake stuck on the beautiful rural village of Springville at exactly 1:36 am.

My once cherished town became an apocalyptic scene: with parents calling frantically for their lost children, injured people limping on the streets, houses and commerce reduced to bits, and the blaring sound of sirens. Civilians and firefighters alike searched among the debris for survivors.

'If you are here' I shouted 'make yourself heard!'. Then a pure miracle happened. I heard a little girl's feeble voice, crying for help. 'Everyone STAY SILENT' I screamed to the top of my voice. Everyone around me froze. I located the cry somewhere under the concrete debris, where a house had collapsed.

Some civilians, firefighters and I gathered all our strength to lift the heavy blocks of concrete. There she was, shaken but unscathed. I delicately picked her up, encouraging her to calm down. A woman rushed towards me and snatched the little girl from my arms. She was shouting in ecstasy, despite her bleeding arm. She thanked God to have saved her daughter. I was taken aback when I saw her bend down to kiss my shoes. 'Thank you!' she cried.

I later learned that the mother and her daughter were the only survivors of their collapsing house. The woman's husband and three sons had perished in the earthquake. I felt deeply sorry for her but was nevertheless pleased to have found her daughter in time.