Third in a series
Part 1, Part 2
Tuesday was worse than Monday in many ways, because we were forced to watch the horror of the levee breaches. The winds were gone, and there was still no real word on the condition of our house in Metairie. We'd see the occasional shot from a helicopter fly-over, but it was difficult to assess the extent of the damage. A good example of this was how I came about getting my current Jeep. A friend of mine saw footage from a helicopter of a point about six blocks from his Kenner home that was about 3'erwater. He figured that his Jeep CJ-7 was a goner, so he went out that Tuedsay in East Texas and bought a new truck. It turned out that it was my Jeep Cherokee that flooded and his Jeep was high and dry, so I bought it from him. The "fog of war" was huge at this point.
The water kept pouring into the city. The Industrial Canal breach, two holes in the floodwalls along the London Avenue Canal, and the 17th Street Canal. So much water that the regular post-hurricane relief procedures that were planned and rehearsed could not be put in place.
Whenever a storm hits Louisiana, the post-storm relief plan is basically simple. The governor puts the Louisiana National Guard on alert 72 hours or so before the storm's landfall. After the winds die down and the storm moves inland, NG units roll into the impact area with supplies and equipment. Other relief workers follow the Guard, such as power company workers, the Red Cross, etc. It's about the wind, remember. Once the wind dies down, relief should be able to enter an area.
We trusted the Corps of Engineers.
The problem with this storm was that there was no way for relief workers to get into the city. Not only was there too much water, but it was still coming in. Levee breaches that were miles away from downtown and mid-city were filling up those neighborhoods by Tuesday morning. Crews were working on plugging the holes, but it was a tough job. It wasn't made easier with idiots like David Vitter (R-Huggies), who claimed on Tuesday afternoon that the city really wasn't flooding.
This was a real problem for the folks who were sitll downtown at the Superdome.
Before I talk about the Superdome, let's make something clear at the outset. Using the Superdome as a "shelter of last resort" made perfect sense. The city's evacuation plan has always been for anyone who had the means to leave on their own (in other words, they have a car) should leave. Those who didn't have their own transportation would gather at Da Dome and ride a storm out there. The stadium was stocked with 36 hours' worth of supplies. The idea was always to use Da Dome as a shelter against wind. Once the wind dies down, people go home.
But there was no going home for many people. Home was underwater, and the water was still rising.
The other big problem at this point was that there wasn't anybody to lead the relief effort. NOPD was in disarray at this point. The 256 Mechanized Infantry Brigade was still in Iraq. That was the equipment that we really needed, trucks with big wheels to drive through water, HWMMVs with vertical exhaust pipes, portable generators, construction equipment.
Not only was all that equipment in Iraq, but it wasn't going to come home in any case. The Pentagon had planned to send the 256th home, but their equipment would stay in Iraq.
Real help from the National Guard wouldn't come for days, when units from the Pennsylvania and Wisconson National Guards came down. While the Louisiana National Guard occupied Bagdhad, Fidel Castro was offering to help New Orleans.
The 30K+ people in or near Da Dome had to be evacuated. There was no place for them to go, and no way to get buses in to take them out. Da Dome was a wreck by now, its roof ripped open in one spot. It was rapidly becoming a serious biohazard as human waste and garbage piled up.
And the water was rising.
Leaders of the relief effort made the decision to move people from Da Dome to the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center.
Something needs to be said about the Convention Center at this point. This facility was always off the radar in terms of hurricane planning. That's because it's the mainstay of the city's convention business. Most hurricane plans address sheltering evacuees for 24-36 hours maximum. The Superdome can handle that. There are other stadiums in the area, and there's usually no big events in Da Dome in the summer anyway. It's always expected that the Convention Center would be hosting whatever its next event is within a few days of a storm's passing.
This is why DHS Secretary Michael Chertoff had no idea that people were moving to and were located at the Convention Center. The facility just wasn't on the plan on his desk. Clearly the only information that Chertoff had at this point was the pre-storm paperwork. No big surprise here, since he's just a Guilianai/Bush hack. So, instead of getting briefed on what was going on, he read from the script.
The Convention Center was just a dark, cavenerous building on Tuesday the 30th. It wasn't set up for relief efforts. There were no supplies. The 225th Engineering Batallion of the LANG had arrived with minimal supplies and not much equipment. The equipment was a bit out of position at this point.
It was in Iraq.
The bulk of relief supplies couldn't be brought in by regular 18-wheeler truck, and there was discussion about whether or not to bring in relief supplies at all, since it was clear that those people could not stay anyway.
The facitlity had to be used, however, because Da Dome was just a mess by now. The plans had been thrown out the window at this point.
Sitting in Shreveport, glued to my computer, most of my information at this point was coming from the Internets. Bloggers were still reporting from downtown on LiveJournal, and Da Paper still was posting sporadic bursts of news on their website.
By nightfall, Ray Nagin's civilized veneer had been totally peeled away by the fighting that was taking place between state and federal officials. The London Avenue Canal breaches had been plugged, but attempts to stop the flow of water at the 17th Street Canal had failed. Fingers were pointing as to why helicopter support for the repair effort at that location arrived late and was of minimal impact.
The water was still flowing into the city, despite Vitty-cent's irrational statements.
There was still not much news on the status of Metairie. We didn't know if my sister-in-law and her family, who decided to stay in their Old Metairie home, were OK. Helicopters flying over the 17th Street Canal breach would occasionally head west and send back some photos. There was water in the parking lot of Clearview Mall, which is only blocks from our house, but it was difficult to tell just how much.
My wife's eight-year old Chevy Lumina bit the dust on Tuesday. We took it to the shop in Shreveport that our friends use regularly, and they told us that it would cost $1500 to fix the transmission. That would be spending good money after bad, so we decided we'd go out the next day and buy a new car. We actually discussed this on the drive up to Shreveport on Sunday, since our cars were getting up there in age, and having two cars over seven years old was a bad idea.
My anger now had a distraction, but the water kept rising.