Manning The Supply Depot, Part I
I couldn't believe that I'd slept until almost 10 AM. Feeling groggy, I grabbed a soda from the truck stop and started heading back up the 90 toward New Orleans. I tried to concentrate and figure out what exactly I was going to do. A friend had called me the previous day while I was standing on the levee, taking pictures of the beached barges. After giving her a brief rundown on what I had been doing, she half-jokingly told me I was just "sightseeing." I took a little offense to that. I had been trying to get to an area where I could take a greater part in the effort, but I had so far been unable. I did have to admit to myself, though, that what I was currently doing did feel a little like sightseeing. I decided to break from my plan of getting into NOLA and see if I could hook up with any established relief groups outside the city, at least for a couple of days.
Enid and Madonna, the employees of the roadhouse where I ate the day before, had told me about a food distribution point not too far up the road. I decided to head over there and see what was happening. A couple of wrong turns and a stop for directions later, I pulled up to a local Parks and Recreation center. It was basically a double-wide trailer surrounded by soccer, baseball, and football fields. The parking lot was filled with boxed supplies and a long line of cars wound through the assembly line they had created to hand out food and water. MPs were working the gates, making sure that no one got out of hand, and a mixture of civilian volunteers and trustees (from the St. Charles Correctional Center) were passing out boxes of MREs, cases of water, and bags of ice. Although not party to the level of disaster seen in New Orleans, St. Charles Parish had lost most of its power during the hurricane and, like much of the area, had supply problems in stores because not only were residents and evacuees stocking up, but deliveries were delayed, having to be diverted from elsewhere to make up for the shortages .
I drove up to the MP working the entrance to the area and asked who I could speak to about volunteering. The MP told me to find the "older, fat, bald guy named Billy." I parked in an unused corner of the lot and went to find him. A civilian volunteer pointed me the way and soon I was standing before a man who I swear is a dead ringer for COL Kurtz, Marlon Brando's character in Apocalypse Now. He's 50-something, skin-bald, and was sporting shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He was obviously an old Southern boy, and his manner suggested he was absolutely in charge of the operation. He was a pretty nice guy, but I never once heard him say "please." I am kicking myself for not getting a picture of him. I kept thinking, "I'll grab a photo of him later on," but when it came to the end of my time there, he had disappeared, and I had missed my opportunity.
Billy told me to jump right in and help pass out supplies. I cracked my knuckles and prepared to break a sweat. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's picking up and throwing around heavy stuff. Unfortunately, as soon as I walked up to the MRE station, they called a lunch break for the volunteers and put the whole operation on hold.
I had practically just woken up, so I wasn't hungry yet. I grabbed my camera and took a few shots of the area while everyone else ate and the line of cars grew.
As volunteers and trustees filtered back to their stations, they opened the gates back up and started letting cars in. Although there were 8 trustees and several civilian volunteers, I could tell we were a little short-handed. No sooner had we gotten back to work, though, then a couple of National Guard 5-tons rolled up and about 25 soldiers spilled out, ready to assist in the relief effort.
As quick as that, we were overstaffed. I spent much of the rest of the day picking up trash and stripping down shipping pallets of supplies while the National Guard handed out the goods.
A little bit of local info I learned along the way: St. Charles Parish is sort of interesting, because although it's one of the smallest counties in Louisiana, it's also one of the richest. It contains a nuclear plant as well as several chemical plants that all have the potential to cause an environmental disaster. As a result, this little Parish is the recipient of quite a bit of federal homeland security funding, and was an early beneficiary of FEMA aid.
I do need to point out, though, that part of the reason they had gotten FEMA aid so early was due to easy access to the area (the distribution center was just off major highways that were not damaged by the hurricane or flooding), as well as the fact that the community was very well organized. They not only handled their own citizens' problems, but extended their support to those from outlying areas. The Parks and Recreation center had been delivering supplies for 6 days at this point. When they ran low on one thing or another, the FEMA rep would make a phone call and, sooner more often than later, a big rig would show up with the requested supplies. I have no idea where they were staging the trucks, but this operation was pretty finely tuned, as far as I could see.
The trucks would drive right into our area and unload. I heard the drivers were being paid ridiculous amounts for their effort, but how else would the government mobilize this much transportation power on such short notice? Aid like this always costs a fortune, but there are few other options available. Imagine the costs that would be involved to staff, equip, and hold in the highest readiness, quick-reaction government resources to deal with this sort of situation. Those costs would be even further multiplied by the fact that a rapid reaction force cannot maintain the highest readiness levels at all times. They absolutely must be relieved by other units 2/3 -3/4 of the time, or else they reach a state of "combat ineffectiveness." Each of these additional units would be equally expensive. At least by paying these drivers a king's ransom now, the government spares itself the cost of sponsoring them during "peacetime."
The trustees would assist the truck drivers and forklift operators in the unloading process. Most of these guys were pretty laid back. I think they were happy to be out on work-release, but it also seemed like they were glad to be able to assist in the relief effort as well. One trustee in particular (shown below) was amazing. He worked his ass off all day, finding things to do when his fellow orange-suiters were on break, and lending a hand wherever he could. I told him he was doing a great job and working really hard. "That's how I do it," he replied matter-of-factly, wiping sweat off his face. I don't know what he did to land in the county clink, but bring this guy to Los Angeles and I'll hire him for every show I work on.
We continued handing out food, water, and ice throughout the day. I spoke to the National Guardsmen, and it turns out they were all from South Carolina - transportation and maintenance, mostly. Most of their group had returned from a 1-year tour in Iraq in February, and while they'd obviously rather be at home, they felt that they were finally getting to do the kind of thing they'd signed into the Guard to do. It's an arguable point that they weren't also doing that in Iraq, but I didn't bother.
They had all gotten into the area just a day or two before, and hadn't been given any real mission as of yet. Commanders need to keep soldiers working, though, so they sent them to the distribution center to keep them occupied. The men worked cheerfully, and would joke with each other and the people in the cars. Any passing girls that were even remotely cute got their egos boosted by these salty Guards, who hit on every single one of them.
As I was sort of the odd man out in this group of workers, over the course of the day the local volunteers asked me where I was from, what I was doing here, where I was staying, etc. I don't know how it started, but somehow several of them got the idea that I was a private detective. "So you're the private detective from California," they'd say.
"What?"
I'm sure the first to ask me this saw the blankest, most uncomprehending expression on my face. After that, I just explained to each that they were mistaken. I had told those who had asked that I worked in freelance television production, but I was here doing a stint as an independent photographer and wanted to help out along the way. Who knows how that ever translated into "private detective?"
They generously offered to let me sleep on a cot in the Parks and Recreation trailer. I'd be alone during the night and they had a cot, air-conditioning, running water in the bathrooms, and even cable TV. Power had just been restored to this section of town the day before I got there. At first I declined. I have never been much for asking for the charity of others. Sleeping in the car sucked, but I was getting more used to it. In the end, however, it was the air-conditioning that did it.
Well, the air-conditioning, the fridge for the beer that was sitting hot in my trunk, and a quiet place with electricity where I could break out my computer, download the photos from the camera, and write. I went back in the office and excepted their offer.
After we finished up for the day and I was left alone in the trailer, I took a sink bath, drank a few beers, and relaxed in the A/C. From time to time I went out and chatted with the MPs who were left with the mind-numbing job of guarding stacks of food and water overnight. At one point, a local sheriff on night patrol came by to use the facilities. He was accompanied by an ex-New York cop. This guy had been on the force during 9-11 and was as disgusted as I had been by what he had seen on the news since Katrina hit. Now he was was working as a bodyguard, but he called his employers and told them he'd be absent for a while, gathered up his ballistic vest and pistol, and headed down to NOLA with four other ex-cop buddies.
He told me that, when 9-11 happened, there had been 40,000 NY cops to deal with the situation. The local radio reports I had been hearing said that New Orleans had only 1,500 city police - roughly 500 of whom had failed to report after the disaster. To put this into perspective, the population of NY City is about 8.1 million people, while New Orleans has only about 1.33 million in greater NOLA (their city cops are required to live within city limits, a rule which has long been a matter of local contention, but they work throughout the greater metropolitan area). It can be seen, then that New Orleans is about 16% the size of NYC, but fields a police force that's only 3.75% of New York's. That number drops to 2.5% when the 500 AWOL cops are dropped from the equation.
Another way to say this is that NYC has more than four times as many cops per person as NOLA has on its best day. And one wonders why there was chaos in the streets during this disaster's opening days?
Enid and Madonna, the employees of the roadhouse where I ate the day before, had told me about a food distribution point not too far up the road. I decided to head over there and see what was happening. A couple of wrong turns and a stop for directions later, I pulled up to a local Parks and Recreation center. It was basically a double-wide trailer surrounded by soccer, baseball, and football fields. The parking lot was filled with boxed supplies and a long line of cars wound through the assembly line they had created to hand out food and water. MPs were working the gates, making sure that no one got out of hand, and a mixture of civilian volunteers and trustees (from the St. Charles Correctional Center) were passing out boxes of MREs, cases of water, and bags of ice. Although not party to the level of disaster seen in New Orleans, St. Charles Parish had lost most of its power during the hurricane and, like much of the area, had supply problems in stores because not only were residents and evacuees stocking up, but deliveries were delayed, having to be diverted from elsewhere to make up for the shortages .
I drove up to the MP working the entrance to the area and asked who I could speak to about volunteering. The MP told me to find the "older, fat, bald guy named Billy." I parked in an unused corner of the lot and went to find him. A civilian volunteer pointed me the way and soon I was standing before a man who I swear is a dead ringer for COL Kurtz, Marlon Brando's character in Apocalypse Now. He's 50-something, skin-bald, and was sporting shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He was obviously an old Southern boy, and his manner suggested he was absolutely in charge of the operation. He was a pretty nice guy, but I never once heard him say "please." I am kicking myself for not getting a picture of him. I kept thinking, "I'll grab a photo of him later on," but when it came to the end of my time there, he had disappeared, and I had missed my opportunity.
Billy told me to jump right in and help pass out supplies. I cracked my knuckles and prepared to break a sweat. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's picking up and throwing around heavy stuff. Unfortunately, as soon as I walked up to the MRE station, they called a lunch break for the volunteers and put the whole operation on hold.
I had practically just woken up, so I wasn't hungry yet. I grabbed my camera and took a few shots of the area while everyone else ate and the line of cars grew.
As volunteers and trustees filtered back to their stations, they opened the gates back up and started letting cars in. Although there were 8 trustees and several civilian volunteers, I could tell we were a little short-handed. No sooner had we gotten back to work, though, then a couple of National Guard 5-tons rolled up and about 25 soldiers spilled out, ready to assist in the relief effort.
As quick as that, we were overstaffed. I spent much of the rest of the day picking up trash and stripping down shipping pallets of supplies while the National Guard handed out the goods.
A little bit of local info I learned along the way: St. Charles Parish is sort of interesting, because although it's one of the smallest counties in Louisiana, it's also one of the richest. It contains a nuclear plant as well as several chemical plants that all have the potential to cause an environmental disaster. As a result, this little Parish is the recipient of quite a bit of federal homeland security funding, and was an early beneficiary of FEMA aid.
I do need to point out, though, that part of the reason they had gotten FEMA aid so early was due to easy access to the area (the distribution center was just off major highways that were not damaged by the hurricane or flooding), as well as the fact that the community was very well organized. They not only handled their own citizens' problems, but extended their support to those from outlying areas. The Parks and Recreation center had been delivering supplies for 6 days at this point. When they ran low on one thing or another, the FEMA rep would make a phone call and, sooner more often than later, a big rig would show up with the requested supplies. I have no idea where they were staging the trucks, but this operation was pretty finely tuned, as far as I could see.
The trucks would drive right into our area and unload. I heard the drivers were being paid ridiculous amounts for their effort, but how else would the government mobilize this much transportation power on such short notice? Aid like this always costs a fortune, but there are few other options available. Imagine the costs that would be involved to staff, equip, and hold in the highest readiness, quick-reaction government resources to deal with this sort of situation. Those costs would be even further multiplied by the fact that a rapid reaction force cannot maintain the highest readiness levels at all times. They absolutely must be relieved by other units 2/3 -3/4 of the time, or else they reach a state of "combat ineffectiveness." Each of these additional units would be equally expensive. At least by paying these drivers a king's ransom now, the government spares itself the cost of sponsoring them during "peacetime."
The trustees would assist the truck drivers and forklift operators in the unloading process. Most of these guys were pretty laid back. I think they were happy to be out on work-release, but it also seemed like they were glad to be able to assist in the relief effort as well. One trustee in particular (shown below) was amazing. He worked his ass off all day, finding things to do when his fellow orange-suiters were on break, and lending a hand wherever he could. I told him he was doing a great job and working really hard. "That's how I do it," he replied matter-of-factly, wiping sweat off his face. I don't know what he did to land in the county clink, but bring this guy to Los Angeles and I'll hire him for every show I work on.
We continued handing out food, water, and ice throughout the day. I spoke to the National Guardsmen, and it turns out they were all from South Carolina - transportation and maintenance, mostly. Most of their group had returned from a 1-year tour in Iraq in February, and while they'd obviously rather be at home, they felt that they were finally getting to do the kind of thing they'd signed into the Guard to do. It's an arguable point that they weren't also doing that in Iraq, but I didn't bother.
They had all gotten into the area just a day or two before, and hadn't been given any real mission as of yet. Commanders need to keep soldiers working, though, so they sent them to the distribution center to keep them occupied. The men worked cheerfully, and would joke with each other and the people in the cars. Any passing girls that were even remotely cute got their egos boosted by these salty Guards, who hit on every single one of them.
As I was sort of the odd man out in this group of workers, over the course of the day the local volunteers asked me where I was from, what I was doing here, where I was staying, etc. I don't know how it started, but somehow several of them got the idea that I was a private detective. "So you're the private detective from California," they'd say.
"What?"
I'm sure the first to ask me this saw the blankest, most uncomprehending expression on my face. After that, I just explained to each that they were mistaken. I had told those who had asked that I worked in freelance television production, but I was here doing a stint as an independent photographer and wanted to help out along the way. Who knows how that ever translated into "private detective?"
They generously offered to let me sleep on a cot in the Parks and Recreation trailer. I'd be alone during the night and they had a cot, air-conditioning, running water in the bathrooms, and even cable TV. Power had just been restored to this section of town the day before I got there. At first I declined. I have never been much for asking for the charity of others. Sleeping in the car sucked, but I was getting more used to it. In the end, however, it was the air-conditioning that did it.
Well, the air-conditioning, the fridge for the beer that was sitting hot in my trunk, and a quiet place with electricity where I could break out my computer, download the photos from the camera, and write. I went back in the office and excepted their offer.
After we finished up for the day and I was left alone in the trailer, I took a sink bath, drank a few beers, and relaxed in the A/C. From time to time I went out and chatted with the MPs who were left with the mind-numbing job of guarding stacks of food and water overnight. At one point, a local sheriff on night patrol came by to use the facilities. He was accompanied by an ex-New York cop. This guy had been on the force during 9-11 and was as disgusted as I had been by what he had seen on the news since Katrina hit. Now he was was working as a bodyguard, but he called his employers and told them he'd be absent for a while, gathered up his ballistic vest and pistol, and headed down to NOLA with four other ex-cop buddies.
He told me that, when 9-11 happened, there had been 40,000 NY cops to deal with the situation. The local radio reports I had been hearing said that New Orleans had only 1,500 city police - roughly 500 of whom had failed to report after the disaster. To put this into perspective, the population of NY City is about 8.1 million people, while New Orleans has only about 1.33 million in greater NOLA (their city cops are required to live within city limits, a rule which has long been a matter of local contention, but they work throughout the greater metropolitan area). It can be seen, then that New Orleans is about 16% the size of NYC, but fields a police force that's only 3.75% of New York's. That number drops to 2.5% when the 500 AWOL cops are dropped from the equation.
Another way to say this is that NYC has more than four times as many cops per person as NOLA has on its best day. And one wonders why there was chaos in the streets during this disaster's opening days?
posted by RNDMSFREE at 1:14 PM
1 Comments:
Great post.
Post a Comment
<< Home