Including David Sullivan, people from Sullivan Village and several neighboring villages who came to help continued to reinforce the riverbank.

Due to prolonged high water levels and years of neglect, the already dilapidated levee was facing constant danger.

When disaster strikes one place, help comes from all directions. Many people from nearby villages rushed over, some even bringing sand and gravel meant for building their own new houses directly to the riverbank.

If a breach really happened, more than just Sullivan Village would be flooded.

Women filled sandbags, men hoisted them onto their shoulders—before the fury of nature, individual strength was insignificant; only unity could stand against it.

Hundreds of strong laborers were scattered along the riverbank section of Sullivan Village, extinguishing one danger after another.

This was just a tiny, insignificant snapshot of the 1998 flood fight.

Storms and hardships have never defeated the people living on this land.

William Young brought good news: the authorities had contacted the army, and troops from the Quan NS district would arrive soon!

This news instantly boosted the morale of everyone involved in the fight.

Around noon, countless restaurants, eateries, and even steamed bun workshops from Sullivan Village and the surrounding area spontaneously delivered food and meals.

Some convenience stores also sent bread, instant noodles, sausages, and bottled water.

Brian Sullivan called over the brigade accountant and Emily Thompson and others, telling them to keep detailed records and make sure everything was logged.

David Sullivan wiped himself down, standing shirtless by the roadside as the clinic staff dabbed iodine on the spots where leeches had bitten him.

Suddenly, the copper gong atop the small dam rang out. Emily Thompson's father shouted at the top of his lungs, “Thirty meters to the east, there’s a breach!”

Brian Sullivan dropped his lunchbox and ran, his roar shaking the sky: “Sandbags! Iron cages! Quick!”

David Sullivan hastily pulled on his school uniform, grabbed a sandbag at his feet, and rushed over. The sandbag, soaked with water, was especially heavy, and the face he’d washed before lunch was once again smeared with mud.

The clinic staff tossed aside the iodine swab, grabbed another sandbag, and ran that way too.

Right behind David Sullivan, William Young followed with a slightly smaller sandbag, his white shirt already turned yellow-black.

A town official, hoisting a sandbag, shouted to the publicity officer with the camera, “Hurry! Keep up! Take more photos!”

The brief lunch break ended abruptly, and the people gathered on the main street threw themselves back into the rescue effort.

The levee, built in the 1950s, was too old, the S-bend was naturally treacherous, and several spots were in crisis, but there weren’t enough people to send help here.

The old breach hadn’t been fully blocked yet, and a new one appeared to the east.

And after continuous fighting, fatigue was unavoidable.

This unprepared, unplanned encounter battle for the defense of their homes saw everyone throw themselves at every danger as soon as it arose—no shifts, no rest rotations, no reserve teams. By a little after 2 p.m., even someone as famously strong as David Sullivan could barely carry on.

Many people in their forties and fifties stood motionless by the street, some even sitting on the ground—not out of laziness, but because they simply had no strength left.

From morning, even since last night, they had used their hands and shoulders to pile hundreds of tons of material onto the river!

People from neighboring villages and H County in town who brought sand and gravel also joined in.

Arriving at the sand pile on the street, David Sullivan bent down and said to the woman tying up the bags, “Auntie, give me a hand!”

He no longer had the strength to lift it by himself.

With the heavy bag hoisted onto his shoulder, wading through water nearly up to his calves, David Sullivan pushed forward with all his might. Many around him were the same—even with their backs bent under the weight of the sandbags, they refused to give up!

The surging floodwaters battered the levee, washing away chunks of earth and leaving behind gaping holes.

As long as they kept carrying, there was hope!

If they gave up, their homes and village would be lost!

Every joint in David Sullivan's body felt rusted, as if any movement would make a sound. In this sweltering summer, his legs had been soaked in water for so long that even his bones felt cold!

William Young had long since collapsed onto the small dam, watching the unending stream of people fighting the disaster, deeply moved.

“Everyone!” Right beside him, Brian Sullivan, who hadn’t slept a wink since last night, shouted hoarsely but still loudly, “Hold on! The army is almost here!”

Hold on! Hold on—

Woooo—woooo—

The loud horns of big trucks blared, and one green Liberation truck after another drove in from the south entrance of the village.

David Sullivan turned to look, unconsciously stopping in his tracks.

On the street, on the levee, everyone looked that way.

The military trucks stopped in the middle of the main street, and one figure after another jumped down from the vehicles.

That was the strongest support!

That was a wave of olive green!

Seeing those green figures striding powerfully toward them, David Sullivan smiled and relaxed. He could no longer hold the sandbag on his shoulder—he let it fall with a splash into the water by the street, plopped down, and was completely spent.

“This time we’re safe!” He laughed, tears streaming down his face. He was too tired, too tense, and now that he could finally relax, his emotions overwhelmed him: “Damn you, flood, you can’t beat us!”

Emily Thompson's father couldn’t contain his joy: “The army is here! The sky won’t fall now!”

One after another, those olive green figures hoisted bags of sand and gravel and charged toward the levee with the crowd.

They weren’t walking—they were charging!

Just like their forebears who charged into the future for the nation and the people, they rushed forward without hesitation!

“Who’s in charge here?” a military officer shouted.