How Does a Former Army Medic Turned Author End Up Protecting People, Keeping the Peace, and Saving Lives In New Orleans?

Katrina brought with her a level of death and destruction never witnessed before in the United States until now. For me going to New Orleans was a matter of conviction; I had no choice. I am one of those guys that always talks about integrity, compassion, and love; for me, those are not just words, they are ideals that I must live on a daily basis. As an author, I simply write about what I practice. So, I began packing my things. First, my BDUs, some medical supplies, my Glock and extra ammo, and some police gear I still have from another life. My wife put some bedding and pillows in the back and made me some snacks so I could stay pleasantly plump; I was ready to go. I then put the word "MEDIC" put on my windshield.

Leadership is, as Forest Gump Might Put it... Does.

Don't get me wrong, like I said, I did struggle with the decision to go—I struggled with spending the money, I struggled with leaving my family, I struggled with knowing that I would be putting myself in harms way. It is scary to know that there are people shooting at rescue workers; reality says I could be shot and not make it home to my wife and son.

Leadership is a gift; it is something that often times we are given but we fail to execute. To me, real leadership means living life by example. It means not being afraid to get up off your butt and do something when there is a need. It is important to me that I always do what I can to provide a positive example of what it means to be both a man and an American.

It is also important to me to always live my life in a way that is honorable; that's the lesson I want my son to learn.

My Son Cried When I Told Him I was Leaving...

He was afraid I would be hurt, but he brought me a Scripture verse that sums it up: Be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. —Joshua 1:9

When I told him I was leaving to go and help the people who had survived hurricane Katrina he began to cry. He said to me, "I know you want to help people but I am scared... I don't want you to get hurt." "Me either son." I said to him and we hugged. "Don't worry..." I assured him. "It will be alright." Like everyone, he had been watching it all on the news and his biggest concern was I would be shot. I explained to him that there were far more good people out there trying to do the right things then there were trying to do the wrong things. I also took the time to remind him that there are servicemen and women all over the world right now—some even from Gulfport and New Orleans—that were putting themselves in harms way for us and that it was the least I could do for them and their families.

I Told Him that it Was Important for Me to Go...

Because I know that I have the ability to handle situations that others wouldn't dream of being a part of; most people prefer safety and security. Why put yourself in harms way? I've always told my friends, family, and students that if you don't have a little fear and trepidation as you embark on any journey that could cause you harm, then something is seriously wrong in your head, but even though you may be scared you just have to get over it. At the end of the day, what's the worst that could happen?

But to put it another way... I went...

Because SHE Matters...

I can't remember their names, but I will never forget them. At only 3-weeks old this little one was only aware of only one thing: "Mom isn't feeding me; I am hungry." He mom was dehydrated, hadn't eaten much, and had been in the sun for days; she wasn't producing milk as a result. Not long after arriving in New Orleans, she came up to me in the street and said, "Excuse me sir, can you please help me?" Put yourself now in my shoes, or worse, in hers... what would you do? Myself and a Air Guard Major named Kelly discreetly put her in my Excursion, cranked the AC, and made a bottle with a rubber glove. The milk, well, it was acquired from a local restaurant.

Update: This little girl is named Williya Garner, taken at the convention center in downtown New Orleans on Sept. 2, 2005. I found a picture taken by Roger L. Wollenberg from UPI of her and her grandfather Willie Garner, Jr. (see here)

I Went to Home Depot and Purchased Supplies!
 

After leaving my home I pulled out my credit card and loaded up on some essential tools that I thought would benefit me in a place like Gulfport or New Orleans. I bought two hatchets, some lanterns, a couple gas cans, some water, two axes, two sledge hammers, a chainsaw and oil, chains, rope, and some straps with ratchets. I also purchased a lot of alcohol hand sanitizer, water, rubber gloves, and a bunch of canned foods. As you know, these things are not cheap; you have to spend money to get them. But for me, if I could save one life, then it was well worth it. The way I see it, I would spend that money on something stupid anyway; on some kind of new techno gadget, on some toy; materialism is an easy trap to fall into. I am as guilty as the next person, but for now, that will all have to wait. Except for our living expenses, if I have the ability, I want to use it for good.

It Was a Long Journey To Get There...

No, I am not talking about the thousands of miles I drove to get there at $2.98 a gallon or more. I am talking about what I had to do to get there—what steps I had to take to get from my home to arrive in the areas that had been devastated by Katrina. When I decided to go I began calling around to emergency organizations. I called the Red Cross, they never called me back; I called FEMA, they never called me back; I called scores of numbers in several states before I finally got someone to talk to me. Eventually, I found a director at MEMA who said he would take care of me if I showed up. When got Jackson, Mississippi officials were waiting and issued credentials and passes immediately! I then tried to find gas.

You Can Pass Through!

Wow... the lines to purchase gas were incredibly long just outside of Jackson, MS; it was hard to believe! For a while I just drove around from one station to another; they were all out of gas and some didn't even have electricity. Finally, I found one not far from the highway that heads south towards New Orleans and I pulled up in front of everyone and asked if they would let me in front. The police officer guarding the place and the attendant working the front of the line took one look at the "Medic" sticker on my windscreen and waved me by. I filled up my tanks and pulled out down the road. People who were there waved at me and yelled "God Bless!"

It is Getting Strange...

I've heard about having poor coverage with your cellular company, but this was ridiculous! I was driving down the highway from Jackson, MS straight down towards New Orleans when I started noticing a couple of peculiar things—things you might see if you were in a movie where everyone vanished. First, I started noticing huge lines at gas stations, which I was fortunate enough to get through without having to wait, then no gas stations were open at all, and then traffic began to die down until eventfully nobody was around. Then, it wasn't long until I had no cellular coverage whatsoever and I barely picked up any radio stations being broadcast. It was eerie.

"Bush Help!" Was My Welcome

When I got into Gulfport, which was essentially ground zero for the hurricane, it was quiet; everything was quiet. Nobody was on the roads, no stores were open, no gas was available, the lights were out. I saw boats on the highways when no water was in sight. I saw cars upside down on the roads, trees across homes, 40ft truck containers in residential streets blown from what seemed miles away. Gulfport, MS was totally devastated. Hardly anyone else was there. It was virtually a ghost town except for residents, who has spray painted "Bush Help" on a huge roll of paper that must have weighed at least a ton but had been blown around the town like a tumbleweed.

Is Anyone Here Helping Out?

It was like driving through an obstacle course. I crept through in my Excursion, around power lines, over curbs, and through what once was the front yards of homes where children played. I stopped and asked some people walking down the street where it was hit the worst; they pointed. I asked if they had seen anyone yet offering assistance and was told flat out "No! Ain't nobody been here to help! No Red Cross— nothing."

Total Devastation, Total Despair!

Driving through the town was a virtual maze; there was so much debris, so many things in the road you would never expect to see in your wildest dreams. Gulfport really was just that; I wonder if it will ever live up to its name again. Everything was destroyed. I stood where an apartment complex once sat against the white beaches and welcoming Gulf Coast waters; it was gone. Nothing was there including the people who stayed behind to "ride out" the storm. They all died. Many of them were still there when I arrived. The job of recovering them and moving them to the make-shift morgue behind the fire department became so daunting that officials began marking the area next to bodies with green spray paint and GPS coordinates for later.

Are You From Here?

Is the question I asked a young man walking around the Gulfport near the beach with a look on his face that resembled what doctors first began calling the far-off empty stare soldiers of the "Great War" were returning home with after four years being bombarded by artillery and machine gun fire in the trenches of France and Germany—he looked shell shocked. I pulled my truck up next to him as he slowly made his way around the debris. He told me that his home was gone as we stood talking next to a wheelchair in a parking lot. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

The Power of Mother Nature...

Around the corner from what was left of the neighborhood I drove through only moments before was a huge casino barge that had been blown ashore—away from its moorings, over the beach, over the highway, and inland some 500 meters or so—to come to rest where businesses had once stood and thrived. The young man I had visited with was just now making his way near the hotels when he stopped and spoke with me again about, well, life and how it had changed for him and his family. He offered to snap a photograph for me on the highway in front of the barge; he is an aspiring photographer. Good for him.

The First Sign of First Responders!

Only another couple hundred meters from the barge that I had stopped in front of where a group of fireman posing in front of the "SS Hurricane Camille" that had washed ashore during one of Mother Nature's previous visits to the area; they were taking a brief break from rescue and recovery efforts that had started near the hotels directly after the storm. They were also the first rescue workers I saw in the area.

It's All Gone... Nothing was Spared!

As I surveyed the area I was struck by the fact that little was left except debris in the area. Where a grand apartment complex once stood was rubble; where businesses thrived and sold their wares to tourists enjoying the sandy beaches and the warm water of the Gulf, nothing but devastation existed. In the background is the foundation of the apartment complex where none but a few of the occupants decided to leave despite the warnings; like their homes, they did not survive Katrina. Many of the residents had made Gulfport their homes for decades.

Where He Came to Rest...

I spent several hours walking the rubble with a search and rescue worker; others had shown up with cadaver dogs. It is hard to imagine the force of Katrina when you are standing in the sun with blue skies and a soft breeze to your back, but when you stop and assess the damages, it is easy to see the result; she wreaked havoc on Gulfport and countless other towns. She blew winds so strong that one poor man was crushed under a cargo container, now marked in green paint to identify where he rests until workers can recover his body and provide him with a proper burial.

Will it be Grand Again?

As Gulfport begins to rebuild, my hope is that Grand Casino and Hotel will rise again out of the rubble to provide employment and economic stability to the community; I hope it attracts visitors from all over the globe and invests back into the community. While she sustained incredible damage by Katrina, the Grand appeared to be salvageable when I walked around the grounds. She was damaged but not destroyed; when it opens I plan to take my family there for vacation. I couldn't do much to help people, so maybe that is one way I can do so in the future.

On the Way Out of Town...

When I realized that there was little I could do to help out in Gulfport, I set my sights on New Orleans. I had been listening to the radio the whole trip and it seemed to me that thousands of voices where calling out for help from isolated and concentrated points; I was not sure if I could help or not, but I had to try. After traveling thousands of miles, it was time to get back on the road.

It would be Total Suicide!

On the way to New Orleans I decided to take Highway 11 in Slidell hoping that I could get into the city quicker; Slidell was trashed. There was little left of the area along 11 itself. I was able to pass the roadblocks on Highway 10 but the bridge was out, so when I got into Slidell the Sheriff Deputy guarding the bridge told me that it would be suicide to try to cross into New Orleans. Despite having a pass he said that unless I had a team of armed professionals going with me, he was sure that I wouldn't make it out alive.

It would be Total Suicide!

Despite warnings from local law enforcement officers that it was total chaos in New Orleans I was determined to find a way in. Highway 10 was out on the East side, Highway 11 in Slidell was out of bounds and was being guarded by deputies with orders to shoot anyone who did not stop coming out of New Orleans. What to do? I turned around, plugged in an alternative route in my GPS and headed towards the Causeway in the hopes that the bridge was open.

It is Funny What Survives a Storm!

As I drove back down Highway 11 in Slidell, I couldn't help but look around and take pictures if something caught my eye. In this picture, I was amused by what Katrina spared: four rolls of toilet paper that appeared completely untouched in the midst of an area that was completely and utterly devastated by the storm. While it isn't always appropriate and should be done with the feelings of others in mind, levity sometimes helps one survive the harshness that life often delivers up.

Need a Home?

One things I wondered as a continued to make my way towards New Orleans is what the real estate market would be like in the ensuing months and years. For those who had been fortunate enough to get out in time, would they return? And if so, would the homes that survived be at a premium or discounted, so to speak? I saw this "For Sale by Owner" sign on one homes that had been knocked off its foundation in Slidell and thought to myself, "How apropos."

Can I Get Through this Way?

I made my way back to Highway 10 and eventually to the Causeway bridge. As I approached the entrance I noticed that the sign said, "Bridge Closed" but I continued to drive in to see what my chances were to get over. Officials had blocked off the right side of the bridge because of damage and had turned the left side into a single-lane highway for emergency vehicles. They had barricaded the rest of the bridge. When the female state police officer approached my vehicle I showed her my credentials and she gave me directions so I could get into New Orleans; she wished me luck.

Going the Wrong Way?

I couldn't help but wonder as I entered onto the left hand side of the bridge that crosses the stretch of water between the mainland and New Orleans and passed the "wrong way" sign if that was an accurate statement of fact. I was only 25 miles away now from what had been reported on television as being total chaos. I guess, when you've come this far there isn't any turning back. I looked at my GPS and smiled, "Well, almost there..." I thought to myself. "This is going to be interesting!"
 

Are You Armed?

As I got closer to check points I began getting only one real question once my credentials were verified: are you armed? "Yes." I would reply. Then they would wave me on. As I crossed into New Orleans I was stopped for a final time by heavily armed police officers who again, asked me if I was armed. When I said yes, they waved me in and told me to be careful. So, I locked my doors and cracked my windows... put my flashers on, my bright, and I chambered a 9mm round into my Glock.
I then pulled away into the city. I soon found out just why they were asking me that... New Orleans was a mess. It was a war zone.

Can I Get Through this Way?

At first, it took me a little while to figure out where to go. As entered the city it was just getting dark and I had no directions to any of the command and control centers. There were no city lights on and, though I had often joked about how dirty New Orleans was, this took the cake; it was horrible. There was water and debris everywhere. To the right of me, abandoned cars with the windows broken out, to the left, buildings destroyed.

Where the Heck do I Go?

A lone dog walked quickly across the road in front of my vehicle; I was the only one moving on the street. It was spooky... the calm, well, after the storm that I had not anticipated. I made my way up the street until I saw a fire station and stopped to talk. As I got out of the truck a talk fireman who looked cautiously at me said, "Are you packing?" I said, "Yes." He said, "Good. Me too." As he patted a bulge under his t-shirt. It really was as bad as the news had been saying; maybe even worse.

Where Saints Train...

I drove up the street a while until I saw a man with a spotting scope and a radio in BDUs on a bridge. When I approached him I immediately recognized he was a Combat Controller with the USAF—a special operations airman. I asked him where the command and control center was and he said to go to where the "Saints train." I jumped back in my truck and began looking at my GPS, which was a real lifesaver. At the time I didn't know New Orleans well; that has changed. By dark I had found the heavily guarded entrance.

We Have No Way to Assimilate You

Wow, I thought sentences like that only existed in sci-fi movies, but that is exactly what one of the team leaders from FEMA told me when I made it to the Saint's training ground where everyone seemed to be staging for the rescue missions. It shocked me. Here I had traveled thousands of miles but FEMA couldn't use me? Someone with my background? He didn't even ask what I could do... So I walked away from him determined even more.

I then met with the commander of the Air Guard unit that had taken the mantle of responsibility for many of the rescue missions being launched within the city. He was a young man, maybe 38, a slight build, dark hair, and he seemed more interested in putting forward "movie star qualities" in his flight suit than taking action; he walked around with a look that suggested he had no idea what to do. It seemed to me like a lot of busy work was going on and that the left hand didn't know what the right was doing. In fact, I saw people browsing the Internet in the truck you see in this photo, and they weren't looking for ways to help the people in New Orleans. I know, I saw what they were looking at!

A LTC with the Army Guard was having to wait around too--you could tell he was anxious to get his men in the game. For some reason he had been placed under the authority of the Air Guard LTC, and it didn't look like it was working out to be honest. The Air Guard LTC seemed indifferent about having the Army around and the Army was sitting on its butt because there were no clear orders.

I spent several hours just twiddling my thumbs. Some people spent days!

The major--who was directly under the LTC--had promised to "hook me up" with someone. It never happened. I know better than to sit around and wait; you have to have initiative to get things done. I watched as people argued about what to do and fumbled about with directions because they DID NOT HAVE MAPS of the area!

There were a LOT OF QUALIFIED people sitting around waiting for orders. That was something I saw the whole first week down there. I didn't wait and that makes a huge difference--especially to the people I helped out. Trust me, my criticism runs deep. At the end of the day, the Commander of the Air Guard unit could not use me either, so I moved on.

I Can't ASK You to Come...

I found a LTC from a Texas Army Guard unit that was headed downtown and needed security for his resupply convoy; so I invited myself along. He made it clear that he could not ask me for support, so he never had to. Sometimes things are better left unsaid. I acquired a radio, put it on channel 8, assigned myself a call sign, and took up the rear of the convey to head down to the dome. It worked perfectly. Good men, good plan, well done! I love it when leaders stand up and get things going.

The Dome: Doom, Death, and Disaster

When I arrived at the dome I was struck with just how much water there was; it was incredible. At one point I was very concerned that my truck was not going to make it; it was so deep.

People were all over the place looking down at us. Some threw water down on me as I walked around my truck; strange way to greet someone there to help. But, I suppose they were frustrated and tired; hungry and ready to leave. There were bodies in the water, broken down cars, and submerged police vehicles.

It Takes All of Us...

I was blessed to have two guardsman (from the Army Band) to ride with me to provide extra security. One played the clarinet and the other played the drums; not what I expected. See the video here. I'll be the first to say that they were professional and quick implement suggestions. I had no doubt that these men would do whatever it took to get the job done. I was appreciative to have the extra manpower with me. This young soldier even took my truck when I got out to treat a woman who needed medical assistance.

Help Is Here: Making A Difference

One of the best things about going to New Orleans is just interacting with the people; they are experiencing events and conditions that most of us will never have the misfortunate of living through like they have. Yes, some of them were hostile, but most were just grateful to have me there; some just needed a shoulder to cry on. The guy in the band standing next to me the above picture captured me in action helping out a gentleman who had been downtown for days without food, water, a change of clothing, or a way to take a bathy and clean himself up. Everywhere I went it was knee deep water (I'm short, so perhaps that isn't all that spectacular) that basically was hazardous waste. But I am going back anyway... there still are people in need that I can help out.

I Have a Question: Why?

When I arrived in New Orleans people were dying and bodies were in the streets. I hadn't even pulled my vehicle into the parking with the rest of the convoy when I heard a cry for help and looked out of my window to see a man carrying a woman down the street in his arms past soldier and police who just watched. I grabbed my aid back, jumped out of the truck, and told the Specialist driving with me to take it and I would catch up to him. Eventually I told an Army officer that she would die if I did not get some help. Finally, she got the support she needed.

The real problem is that I had limited supplies and virtually no resources. There was plenty of law enforcement and military providing a "show of force" but no real medical support to speak of anywhere close by. Nobody was going inside the convention center either, so I decided to. I asked the National Guard if they could provide me security, but was told that they had been given orders to stay out! When I went in two photographers from United Press International followed me and took photos of what I was doing. These elderly women are but two of those who were lost because of the inept response to the disaster by those entrusted with the responsibility. The real question is why did this happen? I have no answers.

This Man Waited for 8 Days!

When I first came into town with the Convoy I randomly snapped photographs of the area; I happen to get one of Harrah's and some of the other buildings in the area and didn't notice it at the time, but the man you see had been sitting in the same place for days. He could hardly walk, was diabetic, had no insulin with him, hadn't eaten or drank much, taken a bath, brushed his teeth, and had to relieve himself where he sat. It -- to be truthful -- brought tears to my eyes a few days later when I was able to take him to an evacuation point.

It was strange as we entered downtown. I had heard that there were crowds everywhere, but the route we took didn't reflect that -- at first. In fact, every street we passed headed to the Dome seemed empty. Sure, there were people around. One here. One there. Dotting the backdrop, but no crowds. Then as we turned towards the Dome I started to hear more voices and then see more people--People from New Orleans, from England, from California, from Japan, from Texas. There were people at the Dome from all over the world. Everyone had congregated at two main points after Katrina had passed: at the Dome and at the Convention Center.

Even through we were bringing supplies to the Dome and meeting up with a "show of force" contingent sent in to quell any violence, I felt that it was better for me to head to the Convention Center where thousands upon thousands of people had bunkered down without food, water, or any real support. Not a moment went by without people approaching me or calling out to me for help. Nearly every moment I was there I was helping someone; a guy who was likely going to lose his eye; another man who was likely going to lose his arm; a woman who was having an asthma attack; a child who had fallen and cut her head open; a woman who needed dialysis.

I walked all day long until I had blisters on my feet that were the size of quarters. Eventually, I saw a teenager driving a golf cart that he had stolen and took it from him so I could begin shuttling people to staging areas. That's when I met the man in the photo. Only a few streets over nobody was around so nobody had stopped and asked him if he needed help--not even the police or EMS when they finally arrived. He told me that all day every day he got passed by; I regret not having gone over there sooner. When I noticed him sitting there by himself I offered to give him a ride. He said, "Bless you!." And began to sob quietly to himself. I got out and helped lift him into the cart and we drove off.

After that I deliberately began to search the back streets on my own to see if anyone else needed assistance as he did. I took the cart back and secured it. Then I jumped in my truck and spent several hours looking around the streets, stopping and talking to people, and taking water and MREs to people so they could get some nourishment. I drove down every major street that I could; I went through the water, over to the historic French Quarter, and as far as Highway 10 would take me before I reached the point where it was complete flooded out.

It was really strange being in all these places because only a few weeks before my wife Cherie and I spent a wonderful time together -- just the two of us for once -- in New Orleans when I had returned from a business trip to Florida. She flew out to meet me and we stayed downtown at the Le Pavillion Hotel. pictured here and walked all over the city. Even though my goal was to locate and help people in need, it was also nice to be able to just look around this fantastic place. I had been here several times going as far back as 1989 when I was a a young soldier on leave. I've never been much for crowds so it was a nice reprieve from the very real demands facing me at the Convention Center.

There's been Two Murders...

Was the first thing an EMT who had been in the Convention Center since the hurricane hit said to me when we met. He had no equipment and no supplies but had tried to help as many people as he could. I met him the first day I was there because he saw me come inside and said, "It's about time you guys showed up!" I said, "Hate to disappoint you, but it's just me for the moment." We talked and he told me about two murders and several rapes and that he had been too afraid to search the upper floors suggesting that I do it. I approached NOPD and the Guard and they "couldn't help". Finally, a reserve deputy sheriff from a neighboring Parish helped.

I have to tell you, I have worked with a lot of law enforcement officers -- at the city, county, state, and federal levels -- and I have worked with hundreds and hundreds of soldiers, airman, and marines in my life from many difference countries; Deputy Laiche is one of the finest I have ever met.

When I approached Dep. Laiche and told him what I wanted to do, he calmly and professionally said, "Sure. I'll help." And then pulled his patrol car up into the center of the street, hopped out, pulled a shotgun from the trunk, and proceeded to meet up with me. We shook hands and went to work. As we walked into the Convention Center and started up the fixed escalators at the south end of the building, I pulled my Glock from its holster, put my surefire flashlight in a cross-hand tactical position, and smiled in his direction as I heard him chamber a round.

Dep. Laiche and I spent quite some time working our way through each floor. It was so dark at points that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. It was also very quiet; I couldn't hear anything that was going on outside despite the fact thousands of people were downstairs and helicopters were flying overhead. It was eerie to be honest. I thought to myself, "Man, I would hate to get into a firefight up here." It also occurred to me that if someone was attacked up here, nobody would hear their screams for help.

We eventually made our way back into the maintenance and service hallways the ran behind the scores of dinning rooms, event halls, and theaters. We found where all of the alcohol had been stored; it had been ransacked. Freezers were full of rotting food--pies, cakes, vegetables, meat. The smell was putrid but not near as bad as the bathrooms.

I've been exposed to some pretty nasty things in my life and never felt my gag-reflex go off. Smells don't generally bother me, but when we began clearing the bathrooms, I could hardly stand it. I had been wearing a bullet-proof vest for days; it stank, was getting moldy, and just down-right sucked to have on. But at one point the stench coming from one of the bathrooms--the feces, urine, vomit, and bugs all over the place backing in the Southern Louisiana heat--made me pull the vest up to keep from losing my MREs (military ration). It was horrible.

Though protocol would generally have the two of us clearing the bathrooms together, it got to the point where one of us would stand guard at the door--shining our light in for support--while the other would go in and open each stall to make sure nobody was inside. In fact, at points we even joked about it because the whole situation was just totally unbelievable.

Eventually, we made our way to where--we think--the suspects may have been hiding out. As we walked down a very dark and long hall we would yell things like, "Medic! We are evacuating the building." Or "Police, everybody is leaving the Convention Center; we are evacuating." We did this for two reasons: Firstly, it was in part true. Even through we were looking for the criminals reported to have bunkered down on the third floor, we were also looking for people who might need our help. But the second reason was to not alarm anyone who could be a danger to us or others.

Off in the distance--perhaps a few hundred meters--Dep. Laiche and I saw two lights. As we got closer I felt the hair on the back of my head stand up on end. As I told him he said, "Yeah man, me too!" We both felt very uneasy because there was no legitimate reason for two very bright lights to be on way back in the catacombs of the Convention Center. We knew that any emergency lights would have long gone dim by then, which mean someone had to have turned something on recently. As we got closer we could make out that they were the headlights of a maintenance cart. Someone had been there.

We found ourselves at an intersection of the building with multiple hallways connecting to each other. Parked there were several carts--the batteries nearly dead on most of them as if they had been used consecutively one after another. On the floor were several sets of panties, some empty beer cans, food, and oddly enough-a book by Joel Osteen entitled, "Your Best Life Now."

We never found whoever was there, but there is no question that someone was and they weren't right in the head. We knew that there was some pretty bad folks in the Convention Center, but there was no way to know which way they had gone. We sealed off all the hallways and returned the way we came in. My hope is that they meet justice, if not in this life, then in the next.

Accidental Media Pick-Up
 

This was also the first time I got picked up by the media when I got to New Orleans. I accidentally got filmed when I was pulling an Air Force Security Police officer away to move on with the convoy we were protecting. At the time Shepard Smith was conducting the interview of the soldiers and airman accompanying the convoy to re-supply the Dome; as you know he is a lead reporter with Fox News. I saw him a few more times throughout the week and was able to chat with him when we had time to do so. I also got coverage on CBS, CNN, the BBC, and a number of local stations in a couple of different states as well as in the print media in Louisiana and strangely enough, in Ireland. 

Beyond the Call of Duty
 

I have a tremendous amount of respect for people like Shepard Smith of Fox News for his dedication to service; he was there when it all hit and worked tirelessly to spread the news without ever compromising the truth. Shep went out of his way to report what was really going on down in New Orleans from day one; he didn't try to sugar coat it or ignore things. I can tell you, he did a great job at making sure the American public knew the kind of suffering that was going on and, in my opinion, his efforts saved lives. I am proud of him. He got people off their butts and made them take action!

Truth be told, they inspired me; for the first time in my life I had an intimate understanding of just why many of these people have such a passion for what they do; they make a difference. It seems to me that Katrina was a watershed in this way; many people just like me found out that the news isn't all negative. Sure, that may sell, but I saw men and women in the media moved to tears at what was happening, desperate to help in anyway they could. And you know what, they did!

He Made It In!

America has always produced men who are willing to take action by themselves without having to be told what to do. I kept hearing how people couldn't get in and how all the roads were flooded. Things were bad, real bad. But some of us are not capable of sitting on the couch; some of us have to do something. This picture is of a young Marine barely back on US soil from Iraq. He took leave and hitchhiked down to New Orleans to help and helped keep me safe when I was traveling around the city.

The "Spirit" of New Orleans!

I also got to see the spirit of New Orleans that all of us hear about. When I patrolled (by myself) down in the French Quarter looking for people who needed medical support, I found a group of survivors at of all things—and OPEN bar! They were so excited to see me. One lady (in the blue shorts) came up to me right away and asked for assistance with a puncture wound she has received trying to get out of a flooded area. I asked them if I could take a picture and they all gathered around me, thanked me, and smiled. Great city--Great people!

Despite all of the difficulty, all of the death and destruction, people can still be made to smile when they know help is on the way; when the saw my license plate as being so far away, that is when they really smiled broadly.

Just Doing It On Bourbon Street...

I have to admit, one of the things that seems to have gone wrong is the lack of coordination. When I got down to the French Quarter I didn't see ANY police cars or EMS actively patrolling the area. There were plenty of air flights, but on the ground, things moved at a snails pace. For example, in the market I saw a group of police from Arkansas who said they had been sitting there with no orders for a day because nobody seemed to know where to put them; they just had no idea what they were supposed to do—so they just sat there. Didn't patrol and had no idea what was going on. Bureaucracy is what is killing people; it is a lack of coordination and will to "just do it".

She's Getting Fat Now...

We were out in a boat talking to the EPA -- sitting there in the hot Louisiana sun in the middle of what used to be Highway 10 -- when we heard a VERY loud meowing coming from down the street, err, river?

Now the truth is, I don't much like cats -- never have. In fact, I jokingly say they are "of the devil!" just to get laughs. But I also know that she was going to die if someone didn't rescue her. So, Troy and I did. In fact, the EPA (who were from San Francisco) even encouraged us to do so.

Well, it took a few minutes to figure out where she was. When I climbed up to the second story of this house it was horrible inside. Water had flooded to the middle of the steps running up to the second story inside. Black mold grew all over the walls and the ceilings.

When I entered the home she ran and hit in a crawl space, which I kicked open and pulled her from. Then I brought her back down stairs. She's with us now unless we find her owners. And, I am happy to report, she is getting some fat on her once VERY SKINNY bones.

Update: We found her owner! After seven -- count them -- long months of having this cat, we found her owner in Littlerock, Arkansas. She's now with her family and we have new members in ours. What a cool thing!

Ummm... Meat Loaf!

After a few days of working in blistering heat with little water, military MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), and total exhaustion, some old fashion Meat Loaf is just what a man needs. Well, given the state of affairs down in New Orleans after Katrina hit, this was the best I was going to get. I found this sign off Highway 10 about 5 miles from the Super Dome when I was driving around looking for people who needed medical assistance. Personally, I like the artist too! I would have loved to see him in concert there in New Orleans, but maybe next time.

An Eternal Sentiment

I saw this mural memorial of the loss our country sustained on September 11th, 2001 and thought to myself how appropriate it was now too. It read, "The destruction and ruins of the temple, does not mean that our faith would be gone... now more than ever we know that God is on our side." Our Heavenly Father is a loving God who watches over us, who protects us, who guides and directs us. We should never forget that!

Want Lake Front Property?

I saw this sign when I was in our boat going through a flooded neighborhood looking for survivors. It read, "New Orleans Lakefront Airport" and the sign pointed somewhat down towards the water. And then it occurred to me: the other signs are telling you to, well, get the heck out of Dodge and point towards dry land! A little brevity goes a long way when you are to hot and tired to think straight.

You Can't Beat...

One of the Guardsman who rode along with me during the convoy mentioned to me that I needed to look out for "Wagner's" because "...No visit to New Orleans would be complete without it!" Well, now I know why. When I drove past this market I noticed that the sign said, "You Can't Beat Wagner's Meat!" Well, I can tell you this... I went into that store and, well, you CAN beat their meat. The place was totally ransacked. ALL of the meat in the store had of course gone totally bad and stank the place up to high haven. It was horrible! But the sign made me smile, and sometimes you just need that.

If the Shoe Fits...

I saw this platform stiletto and nearly fell over laughing. Only in New Orleans (very near Bourbon Street) would you find a shoe like this sitting up on a knocked over newspaper stand. You can almost hear someone walking by and saying to their buddy o'l pal, "What a waste... pick that up and put it somewhere safe so its owner can find it."

I've Seen Them on TV!

At no time in my life did I ever think I would see a swamp boat running at full speed in downtown New Orleans only a few blocks from City Hall. But there you have it... the owner was with a group of people working their way through the city helping to evacuate stranded survivors. Great stuff!