Diary of a mad hurricane: 'Hoisting up every vulnerable-looking thing'
For several days as Hurricane Katrina first threatened and pounded the Gulf Coast, then flooded New Orleans, dozens of government agencies and private researchers helped predict, resist, and recover from the storm. In a series of timelines, U.S. News staffers detail the activities of:
FEMA officials: On paper, feds gave an upbeat analysis;
Climate researchers: Experts feared the worst;
U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: 'It all started crashing pretty fast';
The Army's 82nd Airborne Division: A waiting game;
The Coast Guard: 'Hoisting up every vulnerable-looking thing;
The National Guard: 'We did respond with amazing speed';
State and local emergency officials: Getting through the storm;
and airborne storm chasers: A view from the eye.
Here, the Coast Guard's story:
Coast Guard Capt. Bruce Jones, the commanding officer for the New Orleans Air Station, knew the storm was coming. And he says he was prepared. "We have quite intense hurricane plans for our air station," says Jones, who keeps a map hanging on the wall of his station, detailing the kind of damage predicted by officials who took part in the Hurricane Pam simulation in the summer of 2004. The map, which was produced after a simulated run-through of a Category 3 hurricane in New Orleans, has large chunks of New Orleans East shaded, indicating the area could be swamped with 15 to 20 feet of water.
On Saturday, with the storm still forecast to be some 48 hours out, Jones begins the process of "buttoning down" the air station: He screws aluminum hurricane shutters into the window frames, sends home nonessential employees, and puts all the station's important records in the room considered most likely to weather the storm.
"We unplugged the computers and triple-bagged them," he says. "After that, you can only hope."
SUNDAY, August 28
Jones sits at his desk, scours the forecasts streaming in from the National Hurricane Center, and finalizes a plan to protect the air station's five helicopters, including H-60s and the smaller, bright-orange H-65s. He decides to staff the copters with rescue crews—four people, including a pilot, support staff, and a rescue swimmer—and to deploy them "just far enough out of the hurricane's reach" to stay in one piece while they weathered the storm. That ends up being Houston, where two copters are sent, and Lake Charles, La., a small town 200 miles to the west of New Orleans. The last crew leaves the air station at 2 p.m.
MONDAY, August 29
Hurricane Katrina makes landfall around 6:30 a.m. Jones watches the Weather Channel all morning and then heads over to the International House of Pancakes with the 12 crew members stationed in Lake Charles. The last meal before the rescue effort begins is a last display of decadence: Jones and Laurence Nettles, a rescue swimmer who goes by the name Noodles, order a large chicken-fried steak, three scrambled eggs, and three pancakes—each.
"We joked that we wouldn't need lunch," Jones says. "And honestly, we weren't even sure where we'd get it."
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