Eagle Point Roof
The first week I was here I rode an ERV through Eagle Point, a wealthy community with large estates and homes. The storm surge really whomped the area and many of the homes were severely damaged, along with lots of trees down and cars destroyed. An Austrian man from that area invited us out of the ERV to tour his property and hear his story.

His yard looked pretty good, all things considered, which he explained by saying that he had spent all his time since the storm cleaning up. (In typical Germanic fashion, he was making order out of chaos. And was quite disparaging of the continuing state of disrepair of his neighbors’ yards.) He showed us a small pile of possessions outside his bungalow: a table, a small dresser, a few metal plates. These were all that he was able to save after the storm went through.

The storm surge brought a 12-foot wall of water, which swept through his area, mowing down everything in its path. He had taken refuge in his house and was carried out through the windows, but was able to grab ahold of his roof to save himself. He used a tire which floated by to rescue one of his neighbors and bring her back to the “safety” of his roof.

My ERV excursions the last couple of days have led me through some amazingly devastated areas. I’ve even been able to take photos here and there. Here are a few:

As we flew in over the Gulf I could see snatches of the devastation — some downed trees, blue tarps covering roofs, some piles of debris — but it wasn’t ’til we piled into the shuttle that the extent of the damage came into focus. At first, as we drove away from the airport, it was mainly boarded up store windows, piles of twisted metal and lumber, and some shattered billboards, but then we went into the restricted zone right along the beach.

The van driver warned us not to take pictures — officially frowned on by the Red Cross for sensitivity/privacy reasons — so I had to take it in with my eyes. It’s like a bomb hit the place. The road along the coast used to be lined with houses, hotels, and restaurants. Most of them are completely gone, right down to the foundations.

Some images: each street address we passed was marked with a spray-painted address and the residents’ family name. Some included messages like “all OK” or “we’ll be back.” The trees, which look like they were once majestic and beautiful, are just gnarled limbs, most of which are covered in wind-blown clothing. It’s an eerie sight, these grayish-brown trunks and branches dotted with colorful T-shirts and underwear. When we passed a river, I saw fishing boats and sailboats had been tossed around like toys. A couple of big boats were actually resting in a knot of tree branches, 20 feet off the ground. Awe-inspiring.

We got here just a little too late for orientation, so I’ll head “home,” which is the Navy SeaBee base in Gulfport. Then I gotta get up good & early for 8 AM orientation, where I’ll be assigned my duties for the next three weeks.

The rumor is that there are laundry services available.

After a week of radio silence following my Mass Care/Sheltering training, I got an email from the Red Cross to show up for a DSHR briefing, ostensibly the last step before being deployed. So last Friday morning I and about 50 other people made our way to Red Cross HQ for the briefing.

Basically it was another two-hour PowerPoint presentation, going over issues we’ve covered before, like the mission of the Red Cross and the services they provide, and an introduction to the slew of paperwork required to be added to the DSHR team. The application itself isn’t too bad, just basic things like previous training, language skills, health history and the like, but the number of waivers, releases, consent forms, and other paperwork is truly daunting. There’s so much focus on the details of plane and rental car reservations, staff debit cards, intake forms, out-take forms, and the like that the reality of the situation in the Gulf is almost obscured. It’s as if with enough bureaucratic activity we’ll be able to rationalize our “clients'” lives back to normal.

Anyway, the upshot of it all is that I filled out and handed in my official DSHR application, informed them of my availability (now!), and was properly warned about the hardships to come, e.g., extreme heat, lack of toilet & shower facilities, poor accommodations, and the overall stressful environment. Sounds great to me. I’ll be sure to pack sunscreen, extra batteries, a first aid kit, and my own personal roll of toilet paper. So when do I get my 24-hour notice? I’ll be sure to let you know.

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update: BUY Karina Came Calling, the blog book I made of my Red Cross volunteer experiences. KCC is a limited-edition, 100 print-run, black-and-white, digest-sized, saddle-stitched, 102 pp. booklet. All for $5, plus $2 shipping, via PayPal.