Click on link. I saved Baby Pamela in a blazing fire. Brother Eddie and I ran thru flames, smoke, to the apartment upstairs. The mother, Pat Wojcicki, was at back of apartment holding hands of the two other children. We were at the front door and closer to the front bedroom where the baby was wailing. The smoke was terrible and could never get it out of my school uniform. Hair was singed. We didn’t die because the apartment was made of wood since it was an old farmhouse brought on trailer from a farm and dropped in South Chicago.