Commentary: Katrina coverage life-changing for writer

Blackanthem.com, WRIGHT-PATTERSON AIR FORCE BASE, Ohio, September 20, 2005

Sept. 7, 2005 was a day I'll remember the rest of my life.

That was the day I took a trip to Louis Armstrong International Airport near New Orleans with members of the 445th Airlift Squadron on a mission to take relief supplies to aid with Hurricane Katrina recovery efforts. It was an opportunity a journalist longs for, but also hit me on a personal level.

I would see the site of one of this country's greatest tragedies and experience what our Airmen were doing to contribute. The opportunity came out of the blue.

My bosses asked if I would be willing take a flight to do stories on Wright-Patterson's involvement. As a journalist, how could I hesitate?

I had trouble sleeping, getting but a couple hours sleep the night before the trip, anticipating what may come.

Hundreds of stories and photos showed the horrible time the people of the Gulf Coast region were suffering through. What would I find?

Having to wake up after 4 a.m. is rarely fun, but it was worth losing a little sleep to take a historic flight. It was appropriate, too, that the mission would be flown on the C-141 Starlifter known as the Hanoi Taxi.

That plane went down in history in February 1973 when it brought the first prisoners of war home from Vietnam. Now it would aid people in need again.

The mission first required a stop to McGuire Air Force Base, N.J., an hour away. At McGuire, the plane was loaded up with 54,000 pounds of supplies for Katrina's victims. After a short break, it was about a two-hours plus trip to New Orleans.

I was given the chance to go up into the cockpit and invited to sit just behind the pilot and co-pilot. The pilot asked if I had any interview questions for him, but I was pretty much overwhelmed with the scenery.

It's all probably a routine for the crew, but to somebody not used to it, it's amazing. Looking out on the clouds and the blue sky, you try to identify things on the ground and feel so at peace.

By the time we approached Louis Armstrong International, the feeling wasn't so peaceful. While it was warmer there, it wasn't an overwhelming heat. The scenery told a different story. Helicopters flying in and out and military convoys abounded.

It seemed like a war zone. That's when it began to take hold on me that we were actually there, in the hot spot of the world at the time.

One thing that caught the eye immediately was a hangar that had been badly damaged by the storm.

The routine was pretty much the same as at McGuire, but the cargo was unloaded rather than loaded. We were going into the airport's main terminal for which we needed an armed escort and went in the back of a pick-up truck.

Military people in battle dress uniforms populated the terminal with a few others milling around. Everything had an abandoned feeling - shops with out-of-date magazines; soda machines with aging products; closed saloons; X-ray machines, chairs and benches piled up and rooms turned into waiting areas, medical areas and holding areas. It felt like more of an occupation, or as someone else described it, like a post-apocalyptic movie.

In all the muddle, I managed to locate Wright-Patterson Airmen from the base medical center and interviewed them.

They told stories about the chaos of the previous days, dealing with confused and disoriented people; they spoke about accomplishing it with pride.

My only regret about the trip was only having 30 minutes or so before departure. I wanted to know more, see more, and talk to others.

I also wished I could have been there when the chaos was going on. By seeing things like that live, it gives a better perspective and appreciation. We can always turn off the television or away from unpleasant pictures, but we can get a better sense of ourselves by confronting it directly, and that's the impression I took away.

Upon leaving, the plane crew invited me to check out New Orleans as we flew over, something I couldn't do on arrival. It seemed like endless water and destruction. I counted only one active boat that I could see.

Another image I couldn't forget was the water's color. It appeared amber, polluted by sediments and as nasty as we'd heard from news reports. I didn't see the Superdome, but I did see a sports stadium submerged with just the upper levels of it visible enough to betray what it was.

The response to this trip has probably been more overwhelming than any story I've ever been involved with professionally. My family, friends and co-workers were curious about the details of the trip.

I'll never know what the people of the Gulf Coast have gone through personally. The trip to New Orleans did give me a unique perspective of the tragedy, and, in turn, I can appreciate it in a way I'll always remember.

By Brett Turner
88th ABW Public Affairs