The next day I got a call from the same sergeant and she told me that the Hurricane was really bad and we will likely go. She asked again if I want to volunteer. I was completely conflicted between my short-term desires and long-term goals. My long-term goal was to be a veterinarian. This meant at-least eight years of education and I was only in my third year. The year prior, I dropped-out mid-semester to go to on a deployment to Qatar in support of the war in Iraq. I was really debating whether these military deployments are going to be the demise of my long-term goals.
I was also hesitant to volunteer, because I was housesitting for a friend at the time. That friend also happened to be in the Nevada Air National Guard and was someone I used to work closely with. I called her that evening and told her my dilemma. She was completely supportive if I wanted to volunteer and said that she could have her mom come over and get the dog I was taking care of. I told her how I really didn’t want to delay my education anymore and she was also supportive of that. She said, “yeah, get through your education, then you can go save the world.”
Shortly after this conversation I got another call from the sergeant and she said that they were really low on volunteers and that they might just order people to go. I told her that if they just wrote the orders, then that would make it easier for me.
At this time in the evening, there was news pouring-in about the devastation in New Orleans. Hurricane Katrina had increased in intensity and was causing major damage to the coastal areas.
The next day, I got a call in the morning. It was the same sergeant. She said, “are ready for this?”
I said, “Alright, here it is….” Knowing full-well that I was about to be handed orders. She then proceeded to tell me that they are sending people this evening and that I was to be there 0600 the next morning. This was an indefinite order that came from the state of Nevada. I was to pack my bags and go to New Orleans to provide medical relief for a minimum of two weeks and possibly remain there for a few months. It’s the type of order that you know can come at anytime when you are in the reserves.
At that time, I was a Staff Sergeant in the Nevada Air National Guard (NVANG). My job was a medical technician, which is essentially equivalent to an emergency technician, or assistant nurse. In the Nevada Air National Guard I was considered a part-timer, or reserve member who was only obligated to attend training one weekend a month and two weeks a year. I often exceeded my obligation though and spent a great deal of my breaks from school working on the base. I really enjoyed being a medical technician and strived to be better at the job, but my heart was in veterinary medicine.
I also had a part-time job at a local veterinary clinic as a veterinary assistant. This was my foot-in-the-door job provided to me by an officer in my medical group at the NVANG. He was a public health officer for the group and also a part-timer who owned a veterinary practice. He was a seasoned veterinarian who had been with the NVANG for over twenty years. At the time, he was the person I idolized the most.
With my dreams of being a vet in my back pocket, I packed my two duffel bags with everything I could think I would need for a long-term deployment. I rushed to get everything prepared for my absence as best as I could. This included notifying all of my professors that I was going to be gone, but not dropping-out just yet. They were all sympathetic to my need to go, but advised that if I was absent for too long, then I would miss too much course-work and exams to be able to pass the class. I prepared for the possibility, but held onto hope that this would be a temporary stint.
At O’dark thirty the next morning, I was in the PAX terminal at my Air Base. In the crowded room were the majority of our medical group and many other military members to include the Army National Guard. It wasn’t often that we got mingle with our counterparts/rivals in the Army. When we did though, it was always a disaster in the making. We loved each other, but didn’t mix well. This could be further explained, but it’s simpler to know that every branch in the military thinks they are better than the other and all have their qualms with each other.
The crowded room also gave me pause, because I then wondered how many planes we are taking. I’ve flown enough in overcrowded military aircraft to know how unpleasant it is. Unfortunately, this trip was going to be no exception.
The NVANG flies a classic cargo place known as a C-130. This plane looks like it’s straight out of the 1950’s, because it actually was. With very few modifications, this four-prop plane was still the workhorse of the U.S. Airforce. They were great for transporting cargo, people, and even vehicles (often times all at once) in and out of virtually anywhere. I was even told that they could land on an Aircraft carrier – which is hard to imagine if you know the plane. This was our chariot and when we all loaded in with our gear there was not much space left. The seating was the classic fishnet benches running parallel to the body of the plane with two rows on each side facing each other. There was no legroom. Our knees interlocked with each other and it was shoulder to shoulder. If you wanted to go down the isle to take a wiz in the open urinal, then you had climb over the middle of the seats, or balance yourself while stepping in-between peoples legs on the seats while you awkwardly make your way down. A fall was not uncommon and always entertaining to watch.
The noise that comes out of those four propellers makes it so loud that nothing else can be heard. To keep from going deaf, we have to wear earplugs. Conversations are not possible, but if you need to talk to someone, then it requires shouting into their plugged ear; also very funny to watch.
Somehow, through the noise and somewhat nauseating fumes of fuel that fill the cabin, you can still get a little sleep. After getting no sleep the night before, I managed to nod-off a little on our journey to New Orleans. The flight from Reno, Nevada to New Orleans, Louisiana is not short even in a jet aircraft and the C-130 is substantially slower. It took all day for us to reach New Orleans and we arrived at the Louisiana National Guard base in the evening.
We deplaned and unloaded all of our equipment and the plane took off back to Reno. We setup in the main hanger where we were told we would have to sleep that evening. The hanger was full of different military units. There were many Army soldiers in there breaking down and putting back together their weapons. We were there to provide medical relief, while they were there to provide rescue and protection to a city that quickly broke into anarchy after the destruction and evacuation of the city. They seemed to be coming and going, but we had to wait the night before we could leave for our destination.
One thing that I did not bring was a sleeping mat and the floor of a hanger is 100% hard concrete. I figured that it wouldn’t be too difficult to sleep on, but I spent most of the night shifting from one position to another trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. Apparently, there is not one position where a bony prominence gets spared. It took about 30 minutes for something to start hurting enough that I had to shift. It was another sleepless night.
In the morning it became apparent that we were idle for a reason. I didn’t know what was going on in the upper-leadership of the group, but eventually the news trickled down. We were in the wrong location. The rest of our group was at the international airport about ten miles away. This was where the evacuation was taking place and where the medical services were needed. Our trip commander Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Nessler (the veterinarian) had apparently spent all night and the next day trying to find us transport. With all of the ground transport available at the base, there was not a single one that could take us. They were all too busy with their own missions. The only other option was air transport and they too were not able to transport us. Knowing that we were needed 10miles away and that no one could help get us there, the leadership from Nevada sent a plane back to us. By the late afternoon, our plane landed and we loaded it back up and embarked on the shortest plane flight I’ve ever taken. I was amazed how wasteful the trip must have been, but knew that it was the only option.
We arrived at the Louise Armstrong International Airport in the evening and besides the heat and humidity the other thing that struck me was the size of the bugs under the lamppost. I had never seen so many huge flying insects. One of my workmates said, “Those things look like they could pick you up and carry you away.”
We loaded onto a bus and arrived to a terminal where we were greeted by the other members of our group that arrived the day prior. They were relieved to see us, because they had been working non-stop. At this time, New Orleans was under full evacuation. The levies broke and the city was flooded. A forced evacuation was in-place and the amount of those that needed medical attention was more than there was capacity for.
I saw one of my workmates who arrived a day prior and eventually asked if there were any showers in the airport. I was feeling a bit ripe being two days without a shower in the high heat and humidity of New Orleans. He confirmed that there were no showers in the airport, but said, “don’t worry, the only person that’s going to know you stink is you.”
That was apparent when I entered the lobby of the airport where all the evacuees were. The smell of intense body odor was high, because there were thousands of people pouring-in; many of them feeble, sick and injured.
In times of mass casualties we were all taught how to setup collection points and triage patients. Our medical group had trained for this many times, but this was the first time I saw it in action. With triage in the military there are generally four categories:
1) Immediate (red) – needs attention right away to save their life.
2) Delayed (Yellow) – needs medical attention, but can wait a day, or two without medical attention before it becomes life-threatening.
3) Walking wounded (Green) – injured, or ill, but can likely go a long time without medical attention before in becomes serious.
4) Expectant (black) – person is essentially in the process of dying and medical attention is likely to be unsuccessful even if provided right away.
The last category is one that we try to avoid as much as possible, but when there are people having seizures around you while you are attempting to triage, then you know that you can’t waste time with someone who can’t be saved. This was the case in the lobby of the airport as thousands of destitute people poured-in. It was like nothing I had experienced and I had been in a combat zone the year prior. The amount of people needing medical attention because of illness, stab wounds, gunshot wounds, and other injuries seemed to be endless.
The response was impressive though. There were not only many branches of military members there, but also FEMA (government emergency response) and many other civilian medical personnel from all over the country as well. Everybody came together and setup the casualty collection point and there were three hospital tents in the lobby of the airport - one for red, yellow and green patients. The expectant and deceased patients were placed in a separate room and became so numerous that they had to be placed in an outside hallway.
Red patients also lined the hallways as they quickly shuffled from the medical tent where they received life-saving interventions and staged to be placed on aircrafts. From there they were taken by plane all over the country to various hospitals for further treatment.
The amount of air traffic was a sight to see. I’ve never seen so many airplanes and helicopters in the sky at once. The runway was never empty. If there was not a plane landing, then there was one taking off. All kinds of different planes from military to emergency and commercial aircraft were taking off and landing. There were four helipads just down from the terminal where we bunked and it was like clockwork with choppers coming in, unloading people and taking off again.
The amount of rescuers was impressive and resulted in nearly everyone being treated and evacuated within two days. The halls that were lined with stretchers and wheel chairs were empty and like someone turning off the water the volume of patients started to turn into a trickle.
The days before were so mad that I think I was running on fumes. I worked 14-hour days and had to pull myself away when I got a chance to get some rest. Our unit had claimed one of the terminals as our bunk area. We had rows of cots lined next to each other and we got sleep when we could. Sleeping on the cots was easy compared to the concrete of the hanger and despite all of the activity around us, it was not difficult to sleep given how tired we all were.
One night our supply sergeant let us in on a little secret that he and a couple of other guys were keeping. He was a resourceful guy who was going around the airport networking and getting us supplies while we were working. One of his contacts let him in on a stash of booze that was kept downstairs from us. He brought about five people at a time to sit on the stairs outside and filled drink orders. It was one of those moments that can’t be replaced. Here we were drenched in sweat, hadn’t showered for a few days, coming off of an adrenaline high and having drinks on the metal stairs overlooking the helipads. It strangely felt like we were enjoying a holiday in a tropical destination.
The next day was slow. There were a few patients here and there, but not enough to keep us all busy. At one point, I took the opportunity to see what there was to eat. Just behind our tents, there was a stack of boxes with ready-to-eat meals. These were not the military ones though. These were some sort of civilian one that was a step above what we were used to. While I was digging-away at my box I met a U.S. Marshal equipped with his bullet-proof vest and pistol. He was out on patrol trying to pick up and evacuate people. He was telling me that he was just out on patrol and was finding people still wandering the streets. He was frustrated, because these people did not want to be evacuated. On his last trip he stopped to try and help a group of people sitting on the sidewalk of a flooded street. He said the people were wearing tattered clothes and didn’t seem to have any food, or water. Right next to them was a dead body facedown in the water. The people still refused to leave.
With the lull in activity at the airport, the people organizing the rescue effort had requested that some of us go give some relief to the rescuers in the city at the convention center. The convention center was one of the main hurricane shelters when the storm hit, but quickly turned into chaos when the levies broke and the city was flooded. Days after the flooding, they were still having evacuees coming in.
When the Chief Master Sergeant of our unit was asking for people to go, I jumped for the opportunity. We boarded a Blackhawk helicopter and took-off over the city. Before this, I had not seen anything outside of the airport. I had only heard the reports. The reports did not do it justice.
As soon as we started flying, the devastation of the city was impressive. The most striking thing was that the whole city was under water. No streets were visible. In some areas, the water covered two-story houses. Multiple large buildings and structures heavily damaged by the winds. Cars and boats were scattered like toys in elevated areas. I had never seen New Orleans before this, but it was apparent that the level of destruction would change this city forever.
When we arrived at the evacuation point next to the convention center, it was work as usual. There were not huge crowds at this time, but a steady stream of people. The people coming in off of the streets were not unlike those that we saw at the airport. If you are looking at demographics, then it was African American and poor that was overrepresented. Most people carried very little with them as they came for evacuation. At most it was usually a black trash bag about halfway full of items. Some of those items didn’t clear security.
At the entrance of the evacuation point were our fellow Nevada Army National Guard Soldiers. They were checking people mostly for weapons as they entered. The amount and type of weapons they confiscated was shocking. They had shopping carts filled with battle rifles, shotguns, knives, and pistols - many of them heavily modified.
The other items that were often inside those bags were obviously looted. A single father in tattered clothes and a shirtless boy showed-up to security with a bag that was full of jewelry, booze and pills. No food, no water, no clothes and seemingly no personal possessions. Since there were no weapons and no way to prove that the contents of the bag were not legally theirs, the security had to let them through.
This was a common sight in the last few days of evacuation. The people that were coming in at this time were obviously at the bottom rung of society. These people were often mentioned in the media as neglected by rescuers, but I found there to be a different story.
When I spoke to the evacuees they all freely spoke about how they were told to evacuate, but chose to stay. I didn’t hear one person say that they wanted to leave, but couldn’t. They chose to stay – many of them well after the city was under water. The media loves the story of the stranded flood victim, but the reality is that those are very few.
While the morals of those being evacuated were questionable, they were actually quite friendly people and one couldn’t help but take pity on them. I remember one lady came to our treatment area and seemed to walk over normally, but then sat down and clutched her chest and said someone kicked her in the chest. She quickly mentioned that she was in a lot of pain and asked if we could give her any pain medication - a common ploy seen in the ER by a drug addict. The Physician’s Assistant (PA) that was treating her went ahead and gave her some prescription pain medication (opioids). When I mentioned to him that she was so obviously after drugs, he said, “yeah, but I don’t really care right now.” What he meant is that this was a different situation. Here were people that you couldn’t help but feel sorry for and needed to be evacuated. It wasn’t the time to interrogate someone over their need for pain medication.
I couldn’t help but wonder how bad these people’s lives were before that they didn’t mind staying amongst the death and destruction. What position do you have to be in where food, water and clothes take a backseat to drugs, booze, weapons and money? My heart went out to those people and I was upset that their stories were not truly told. Instead, those people were used as pons in a political chess game to blame the government for not evacuating them sooner. They were used and then forgotten again shortly thereafter.
After the eye-opening day at the convention center, I went back to the Airport where things were continuing to go slower. While searching for things to do I met with the veterinarian LTC Nessler who told me that there were animals coming in and some of them needed veterinary attention. When we first arrived there was actually a veterinary team (VMAT) that was part of FEMA and was providing aid to animals. They were quickly pulled to another area when the airport started to get slow and LTC Nessler and I spoke to them right before they left. With them leaving and us underemployed, we set-up our own veterinary aid station in the lobby. With the leftover medical supplies and some medications and supplies left from the VMAT team, we made sure pets were evaluated and treated when they came in with their owners. This kept us rather busy and we ended-up having a greater workload than anyone else. It didn’t take long for other medical personnel to jump in and help out.
One evening, this guy and his teenage son came in with two pit bulls- one male and one female. The female pit bull seemed to walk in well enough, but then slunk to the floor as soon as the owner stopped to talk with us. The owner did not seem overly concerned about the dog, but as he was talking to the Vet I went over to have a look at the dog. I first looked at his gums and they were completely white (versus a normal pink color). I alerted LTC Nessler right away and started an IV. It was apparent that this dog had lost a lot of blood and was in critical condition. LTC Nessler was able to do a blood test with the human equipment and found that the dog needed a blood transfusion soon to keep him alive. LTC Nessler then orchestrated a blood transfusion from the healthy male dog to her. In the meantime he managed to contact the veterinary teaching hospital at Louisiana State University (LSU), which was a couple of hours drive away. They agreed to take the dog if we could transfer it.
Fortunately, there was an ambulance team out of Pennsylvania that responded to out call for transport. They had drove all the way to New Orleans a couple of days prior and had similarly run out of work. I volunteered to be the vet EMT and help transport the dog to LSU. The trip took us all night, but it was worth it. Unfortunately, like every other patient I saw, I never knew the outcome of that poor dog. He was one lucky dog though.
When I got back to the airport and was finally able to lie down, I heard some stirring about me and I think someone tried to wake me up. I had just fallen asleep though and was not able to wake up. Later, I found out that our commander gave a speech in the morning and told us that we were going home soon.
I also heard that there were some inevitable squabbles between the Army commander and ours. The Army commander found out about our little cocktail parties and was not happy. Apparently, this was not officially sanctioned, so she was ready to have our asses for it. The word was that our commander basically squashed the Army crusader and said that he allowed it. The Army commander was livid though and apparently this issue was brought-up again a few weeks later.
I went back to work at our little vet treatment area, but was also getting more and more free time. Around lunchtime some of our guys told us that there was a restaurant that opened in the airport and was serving free food. We went to the crowded restaurant where the owner greeted us. He gave us a big welcome as we entered and said that this was his way of thanking us for our help. It was the traditional Louisiana dish Jambalaya. A mixture of seafood, sausage, rice and spices served family style; with us all seated and the restaurant owner walking around with a big pot serving us in paper bowls. After days of packaged food, this was a real treat. It was not only as good as I could imagine, but also the only time I got to experience any local food in New Orleans.
With some more down time I was able to catch-up on some studies and prepare for going back to school. I was able to study a lot in the next couple of days and by the time we got back home, I was able to do well on my exams and coursework. Going home was uneventful. We were all happy to have been there and were happy to be back to our normal lives.
When we returned there was a nice welcome by our base command and we all received medals for our work. I also found out later that my orders had to be redone, because the orders given to me by the State of Nevada were actually not done correctly. Apparently, the governor of Nevada wanted to send help to New Orleans, but the bureaucracy of the National Guard Bureau was making it difficult to make orders in a timely manner. The governor decided to circumvent them and make their own orders; which meant that the Nevada National Guard was one of the first to send help.
My friends and family were all interested to hear about my experiences in New Orleans, because there had been so much reported on the news. Of course, the news painted a distorted picture of what was really going on and the amount of misperceptions was difficult to keep up with. The most annoying one was the perception that help was not sent, or that it wasn’t sent soon enough. Neither was true from my experiences. It was obvious that government aid was being mustered prior to the hurricane and that many people were already responding as soon as the hurricane hit. It was insulting to know that the tremendous effort put forward to help the people (and animals) of New Orleans was being ignored. I know what was done and how many people came far and wide to help. Hopefully this story will help to let others know as well.
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