FacetoFacewithHurricaneCamille.doc

Face to Face with Hurricane Camille
John Koshak, Jr., knew that hurricane Camille would be bad. But, like thousands of others in the coastal communities, john was reluctant to abandon his home unless the family-his wife Janis, and their seven children, was clearly endangered. Trying to reason out the best course of action, he talked with his parents, he also consulted Charles hill, a longtime friend, who had driven from Las Vegas for a visit. Koshak told his father that their house elevated 23 feet, and they are 250 yards from the sea. The place has been here since 1915, and no hurricane has ever bothered it. He thought they will probably be as safe here as anyplace else. The men methodically prepared for the hurricane. Rain fell steadily that afternoon; Gray clouds scudded in from the gulf on the rising wind. The family had an early supper, a neighbor whose husband was n Vietnam, asked if her two children could sit out the hurricane with the Koshaks. Another neighbor came by on his way inland would the Koshaks mind taking care of his dog?
It grew dark before 7 o’clock, wind and rain now whipped the house. As the wind mounted to a roar, the house began leaking. At 8:30, power failed, and pop Koshak turned on the generator. The roar of the hurricane now was overwhelming. The house shook, and the ceiling in the living room was falling piece by piece, the French doors in an upstairs room blew in with an explosive sound, and the group heard gun-like reports as other upstairs windows disintegrated. Water rose above their ankles.
Then the front door started to break away from its frame. John and Charlie put their shoulders against it, but a blast of water hit the house, flinging open the door and showing them down the hall. The generator was doused, and the lights went out. Charlie licked his lips and shouted to John. “I think we are in real trouble. That water tasted salty.” The sea had reached the house, and the water rising by the minute! They wanted to go out through the back door to the cars but the cars wouldn’t start the electricity systems had been killed by water. The wind was too strong and the water too deep to flee on feet. They had to back to the house. As they scrambled back, John ordered them to the stairs. Frightened, breathless, and wet, the group settled on the stairs. Frightened, breathless, and wet, the group settled on the stairs, which were protected by two interior walls. The wind sounded like the roar of a train passing a few yards away. The house shuddered and shifted on its foundations. Water inched its way up the steps as first-floor outside walls collapsed. Charlie Hill had more or less take responsibility for the neighbor and her two children. The mom was on the verge of panic. She clutched his arm and kept repeating,” I can’t swim, I can’t swim.” Grandmother Koshak told grandfather she loved him. John watched the water lap at the steps, and felt a crushing guilty. He had underestimated the ferocity of Camille. He had assumed that what had never happened could not happen. He held his head between his hands, and silently prayed:” get us through the mess, will you?” a moment later, the hurricane, in one mighty swipe, lifted the entire roof off the house and skimmed it to 40feet through the air. The bottom steps of the staircase broke apart. One wall began crumbling on the marooned group. Dr. Robert H. Simpson, director of the National hurricane center in Miami, Fla, graded hurricane Camille as “the greatest recorded storm ever to hit populated area in the western hemisphere. To the west of Gulfport, the town of pass Christian was virtually wiped out. The children huddled in the slashing rain within the circle of adults. Grandmother implored children to sing but the fireplace and its chimney collapsed. The world seemed to be breaking apart. They got the mattress up. Make it a lean-to against the wind. In that moment, the wind slightly diminished, and the water stopped rising. The Koshaks and their friends had survived.
With the dawn, Gulfport people started coming back to their homes. None of the returns moved quickly or spoke loudly. They stood shocked, trying to absorb the shattering scenes before their eyes. By this time, organizations within the areas and, in effect, the entire population of the United States had come to the aid of the devastated coast. Before dawn, the Mississippi National Guard and civil-defense units were moving in to handle traffic, guard property, set up communications centers, help clear the debris and take the homeless by truck and bus to refugee centers. By 10 a.m., the Salvation Army’s canteen trucks and Red Cross volunteers and staffers were going wherever possible to distribute hot drinks, food, clothing and bedding. From hundreds of towns and cities across the country came several million dollars in donations; household and medical supplies streamed in by plane, train, truck and car. The federal government shipped 4,400,000 pounds of food, moved in mobile homes, set up portable classrooms, and opened offices to provide low-interest, long-term business loans.
Like many other Gulfport families, the Koshaks quickly began reorganizing their lives. John divided his family in the homes of two friends. The neighbor with her two children went to a refugee center. Charlie Hill found a room for rent. They all tried their best to rebuild their hometown. Near the end of the first week, a friend offered the Koshaks his apartment, and the family was reunited. The children appeared to suffer no psychological damage from their experience: however, John’s wife, Janis had just one delayed reaction. A few nights after the hurricane, she awoke suddenly at 2 a.m. she quietly got up and went outside. She began to cry softly. Later, grandmother Koshak reflected:” we lost almost our property, but the family came through it. I realize we lost nothing important.”