Chapter 159: Katrina

August 23, 2005

Hurricane season officially starts on June 1 and runs through the end of November. Most of the activity is in August and September, but hurricanes in the extremes are not uncommon. Agnes in 1972 was a nasty one, in June, and Sandy in 2012 was in late October and very bad. I knew what was coming and was not looking forward to it.

It had been a long time, subjectively, since I had witnessed Hurricane Katrina, and while the details were a touch vague, the aftermath was not. Put simply, a massive hurricane blew in off the Gulf of Mexico and took direct aim at New Orleans. Despite all the time in the world to prepare, disaster preparations weren’t all that great, and somewhere around two thousand people died! There was plenty of blame to go around, including George W. Bush, who only days into the disaster had publicly praised his FEMA boss, and then fired him just a few days later. Coming on top of the disasters that the two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan had become, Hurricane Katrina buried any hope that history would remember George Bush kindly. It stood as a case study in how not to do disasters.

For the last few years, I had been beating on Allbaugh and Brown to make FEMA a better agency. While the government is too large for me to oversee each and every little operation, I could demand accountability and request realistic and periodic updates. One thing I stressed to them was that they needed to run frequent and realistic dry runs. Get together with the state of California and the city of Los Angeles and practice what you would do during a major earthquake. Go to the Storm Prediction Center in Norman, Oklahoma, and pick a city to practice a tornado disaster in, and then go to that town and practice what you would do. Go find a city on the Mississippi and practice what would happen when the levees break, and it floods.

This stuff happens all the time, and while you can never predict it will happen in any particular place, you can definitely predict it will happen somewhere on a regular timeline. Flooding in Dubuque will be different than flooding in Duluth, but a flood is a flood, and what you learn in one place will be useable in another. The same went for tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, forest fires, and so forth. Furthermore, if you handle it right, the practice sessions get a huge amount of positive publicity.

As part of this, the agency had prepared a list of the Top 10 Cities for various disasters. For floods that was mostly cities along the Mississippi, for hurricanes it was cities along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts, for earthquakes there was a different list, and so forth. Then each city was provided a grant to determine the best ways to evacuate the city as needed, and exercises were planned around these lists. New Orleans landed on two lists, hurricanes and flooding. For real fun, they played a game in New Orleans called Beat the Feds. We would provide them a grant to study the problem, half the money would disappear, they would dust off the previous study and retype it, and report that they needed more money for another study. Actual preparation was secondary at best.

One of the overwhelming concerns I had was that Hurricane Katrina was going to smash into quite probably the single most unready city in the country. If New Orleans didn’t exist, we’d have had to invent it! It is easily the most corrupt city in the nation! Per capita it has one of the highest murder rates. The police in New Orleans have a national reputation for graft and corruption, and more than a few of those murders are committed by cops killing for hire. Other crimes weren’t far behind. Physically the city itself is mostly below sea level and protected by a system of levees and pumps. Since an incredibly corrupt city and state government handled the contracts for most of this stuff, it was questionable whether it would function even in good times. As for the government, New Orleans had a black Mayor and Louisiana had a white Governor, neither of whom really cared much for the other one, and they were both Democrats and neither of them liked me.

In good times, the city had a certain reputation for fun. ‘ Laissez les bons temps rouler!’ - Let the good times roll! - is the city’s slogan. Mardi gras is just an excuse for a gigantic party, and it seems like there is always a party. It’s a fun place for visitors.

In bad times, the place turns to shit!

Being informed of weather events takes up about 60 seconds in the morning when I get my daily brief. Most of the time it is quiet and normal. In a nation the size of America, it is always raining somewhere, it is always hot and sunny somewhere, and it is always snowing somewhere. I am informed when things start going bad, but you can also always figure it’s going to go bad somewhere. There are certain criteria that need to be met to declare someplace a disaster area, and you can count on the appropriate Congressman or Senator to call me asking for Federal assistance. As a rule, you pretty much rubberstamp the requests for assistance. After all, dealing with disasters is really the job of any government. You normally don’t say no.

Katrina became an official storm on Tuesday, August 23, though it was just a Tropical Depression in the Bahamas at that time. It was given a name, Katrina, the next day. By then it was obvious that this was a storm that was going to hit the United States somewhere, and not veer right and head into the middle of the Atlantic. I was informed that morning that we had a possible hurricane level event in the offing, named Tropical Storm Katrina. As soon as I heard that name, I knew I had to get involved.

Shortly after my briefing, and my early morning staff meeting, I called Michael Brown. “Michael, it’s Carl Buckman. How are you doing this morning?”

“I’m fine, Mister President. How can I help you this morning?”

“Well, have you been following the weather news?”

“To a certain extent, sir. It’s a big country. You’ve obviously got something in mind. What’s up?” he asked.

Okay, he’s right. It is a big country, and this thing hadn’t even made it out of the Caribbean. “There’s a brand-new tropical storm and it’s aimed right at Florida. We don’t need another Hurricane Andrew,” I told him, reminding him of the hurricane that devastated southern Florida years before.

“No, sir, that would be bad. I will look into it with my forecasting staff.”

“That’s all I can ask for now, Michael. Hey, maybe you can use this as a live fire training exercise.”

“I’ll look into that, sir. Thank you, Mister President.”

We hung up. I could expect a response from him by the end of the day. Presidents don’t just call up to say ‘Hello!’ If I called, I would expect a positive response.

I heard from Brown late on the 23^rd that, as per my suggestion, they were going to use this as a large-scale training exercise. I told him I thought that was a good idea, and if he needed me to give any appropriate orders, to simply let me know. I kept an eye on things over the next few days. On the 24^th it kept strengthening and looked like it would clip southern Florida and head into the Gulf. It did that on the 25 ^th. The FEMA preparations for Florida went fine, and nobody died, but there was some property damage. Everybody gave a sigh of relief as it drifted into the Gulf and began to weaken back into a tropical storm. I went along with them, but I knew better. I simply told Michael Brown to keep the exercise running, since a big storm like that could still cause a lot of coastal flooding. I also brought it up at my morning staff meeting.

On Friday the 26^th, everybody took a deep breath and let out a loud, ‘Oh shit!’ That sigh of relief had been premature! All day long Katrina increased in strength, reverting to a hurricane and heading towards the Gulf Coast. Predictions were that Louisiana was going to get slammed. The National Hurricane Center was officially predicting a hurricane level impact on the Louisiana coastline. In response, I ordered a conference call for that afternoon with everybody I could grab. I knew what was coming, and I knew that the locals were figuring this to be just another big storm that the Big Easy could ride out, with hurricane parties and a lot of bourbon and rum.

The conference call was a big one, with the Governors of Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, the Mayors of New Orleans and Mobile, the head of the Army Corps of Engineers, the boss of the National Hurricane Center, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. In my office, on speakerphone, I had John McCain, Frank Stouffer, Will Brucis, and Michael Brown of FEMA. You might not like the government, but by God we had a hell of a communications system! We started out with a briefing by Max Mayfield, the head of the Hurricane Center, on what the storm was doing and what we could expect. It wasn’t good. The storm was strengthening, moving back up to hurricane strength, and getting stronger by the minute. At current trends it would go from a Category One up to Category Three by the 27^th, and probably still be growing when it made landfall. It was aimed directly at New Orleans.

According to the head of the Army Corps of Engineers, Lieutenant General Carl Strock the levees were perfectly safe up through a Category 3 hurricane, but he made no assurances beyond that. New Orleans would be safe.

“You sound pretty positive, General. What happens if one of the levees fails?” I asked.

“In a case like that, you might expect to see some isolated problems, but unless the storm gets to a Category 4 or 5, we’ll be fine,” I was told.

“General, I am not going to tell you your business, but I would make sure that you plan on some immediate and major repairs if something goes wrong,” I warned him.

“We already have taken that into consideration, sir.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. “General, I am not reassured. From what Doctor Mayfield is telling us, Category Three might be on the low side of estimates. Anything higher than that is going to scrape New Orleans down to the original mud flats. Mister Brown, your agency has done some assessments. Is that a correct statement?”

Mike Brown nodded, though nobody on the call could see that, and he said, “Yes, sir. Everything we have seen says that there will be widespread destruction throughout southern Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, and even into eastern Texas. If the levees fail in New Orleans, most of the city will be underwater.”

Governor Blanco of Louisiana immediately requested a state of emergency be declared, seconded by Haley Barbour of Mississippi. I went along with that and promised any assistance we could offer. That was when it became tricky. Ray Nagin, the Mayor of New Orleans refused to issue a mandatory evacuation warning, and only wanted a voluntary evacuation. He wanted, instead, to set up temporary rescue centers on higher ground, just in case, and stock them with some food and water, if necessary.

“Mayor Nagin, let me make sure I understand you. Everybody else wants to shut down the area and get everybody out, and you don’t? Do I have that correct?” I asked.

“Mister President, that is hardly my position...” He was off and running. The bottom line was that if he ordered an evacuation, he would be causing chaos among the residents who were unable to leave, and there would be widespread liability for shutting down the city. If you read between the lines, he was worried about getting sued in case the storm wimped out or missed the city! I think he knew just how unprepared his city was for a disaster, so he was simply going to hope it didn’t happen. If it did, hey, not his fault!

I listened to him futz around for a bit and looked over at John McCain, who seemed as disturbed as I was. Finally, I had enough, and simply cut him off. “Okay, I’ve heard what I need to hear. Let’s get to the heart of the matter. According to the Stafford Act, I have the authority to declare a state of emergency as needed. It’s needed. Governor Blanco, Governor Barbour, Governor Riley, let’s just draw a horizontal line through the middle of your states. All the counties or parishes below that line are emergency areas. If you haven’t already done so, call out your National Guard, all of them, every last one. Issue immediate and mandatory evacuation orders for anybody living on any body of water. I don’t care if it’s a duck pond; have them move inland and away from it. Mayor Dow, Mayor Nagin, issue the evacuation orders.”

“Mister President, you don’t have that authority,” replied Nagin.

“Mayor Nagin, we’ve never met, so you don’t know me. I’m going to make this real simple. When push comes to shove, you don’t tell me what I can do, I tell you. If it comes down to it, I will declare martial law, throw your ass in the stockade, and drop the 82^nd Airborne on your city to take control. Are we clear on that, or do I have to give you a demonstration?” I replied.

Nagin shut up, and a moment later the White House switchboard came over the line and reported his connection was broken. I stared at the others for a second. I was sure he would report that it was a communications failure, but the reality was that the bastard had hung up on the President of the United States! Unbelievable!

There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then I heard the voice of Haley Barbour, the Governor of Mississippi, come over the line. “Uh, Mister President, were you serious about martial law?”

I grinned at the rest of the people in my office, most of whom also looked a little stunned. “Haley, I really don’t want things to get that far, but I think this storm is going to get bigger, not smaller. I think it would behoove everybody involved to go above and beyond in taking precautions. Governor Blanco, New Orleans is your city. I would suggest that you talk to Mayor Nagin and explain things to him in a clear and certain manner. If he fights me on this, he will lose. I am expecting mandatory evacuation orders for the storm zone in time for the evening news. Is that understood, madam?”

I could hear the gulp in her voice. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. General Myers, you are authorized to prepare as needed for this event. I’ve been to Fort Polk a few times, but that was twenty-some years ago as a lieutenant. Do you have helicopters there?”

“Yes, sir, and we have already begun moving them away from the storm area,” he answered promptly.

“AWAY? Why are you moving them away?”

“Mister President, if a hurricane goes through that area, those birds will be destroyed on the ground. It is standard procedure to move them out of the area, and then move them back in as soon as the weather allows us. I would also add that we are beginning to move more equipment in from elsewhere in the South.”

John McCain chimed in at that point. “Carl, he’s right. Helicopters and airplanes are very fragile in high winds. We lost a lot of planes at Homestead in Florida during Andrew.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. I was airborne artillery, so I never learned all that much about flight operations. When will they be able to begin flying rescue missions and supply deliveries after the hurricane goes through?” I asked.

“We’ll have to stop at least a day before the hurricane hits, and we won’t be able to start up again until anywhere from 36 to 48 hours afterwards, depending on weather conditions and wind speeds. The same goes for any fixed wing flights,” he told me.

“Huh!” So much for any ideas about flying missions right up to the hurricane and right after. “That settles it. We need to start getting people out now! Nagin wants to ride this out and hope he gets lucky. I don’t have that luxury. I am going on the air tonight to let people know. Is everybody clear on this?”

I heard a chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’s out of everybody, and I let them all go. Then I turned back to the people in my office.

John McCain spoke first. “If this thing wimps out, you are going to look like a five-star horse’s ass!”

I nodded wryly at him. “John, I am going to look like an ass regardless. I am going to get the personal blame for not stopping a hurricane, no matter what. That’s fine. That’s why I get the big bucks. The difference is whether I look like a horse’s ass with a few hundred people dead, or with a few thousand people dead. Wait until the levees break and the networks begin airing footage of dead bodies floating in the streets!”

“Jesus!” muttered Frank quietly.

“Yeah! We do not need for that to happen! We have two choices here, bad, and unbelievably worse!” I looked over at Will, who had been relatively quiet. “Get me time on the networks tonight, all of them, and get me Matt and Marc to help me write a speech.”

“Got it!”

I turned to John and Mike Brown. “I want you two to hightail it down there. We can’t manage this long distance. John, if I do need to declare martial law, or something else equally drastic, you give me the word. I will back you completely and take the heat. Haley and Bob won’t give us any trouble, but Blanco’s a lightweight, and I wouldn’t trust Nagin as far as I can throw his worthless ass.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!” John replied.

“I’ll need to pack a few things, but I’ll be ready by the time the Vice President is, sir,” answered Brown.

“We’ll figure it out, Mike. Carl, I need to pack a few things, too,” added John.

I sent the others on their way and jotted a few notes down for the speech. Matt and Marc came in a few minutes later. As we were going through the speech, I had to take a call from Jeb Bush, the Governor of Florida. We added the panhandle of Florida to the disaster area.

The biggest problem we had on the first go was that in most emergencies, assistance is requested at the local level, and then works its way up. A storm wipes out a town, and the mayor requests help from the state, and if enough of that happens, they request it from the Feds. This time I was ramming it down their throats, and not everybody appreciated it.

Will jumped through hoops and got me on the air that evening at 7:00. By then John and Mike were already on their way to Shreveport. I had spoken to John privately before they left. “Keep an eye on Mike. He tends to think like a politician, so make sure he stays focused. Otherwise, you can speak with my voice. If you need something done, I will back you fully, and take the heat.” We shook hands, and he left, to head with Brown over to Andrews.

At 7:00 PM I spoke from the Oval Office, looking as somber and serious as I could.

“My fellow Americans, thank you for giving me this chance to speak to you about a matter of national importance. By now, all of you must be aware that Hurricane Katrina is in the Gulf of Mexico and will be hitting our shores in the next few days. The potential danger that this storm imposes is so great that it will be necessary to take extraordinary measures to deal with it. Earlier today, I spoke with the Governors of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, the Mayors of New Orleans and Mobile, and the Director of the National Hurricane Center, and many others.

As of this afternoon, I have ordered a state of emergency declared in the southern halves of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, as well as in the western panhandle region of Florida. In the counties and cities in those areas, a mandatory evacuation order has been issued for all residents. This is not voluntary. If you do not leave on your own, you will be removed to safer areas. As we speak, National Guardsmen and Army soldiers are being rushed to the area to assist in maintaining order and helping in the evacuation.

This is a major storm. I know that many of you in the area the storm will impact have been through other hurricanes before and believe this will be no different and that you will be able to simply ride it out. This storm is far larger than anything you have ever experienced in the past! It will affect an area from the Florida Panhandle to Texas. Even if you survive the storm, roadways and bridges may well be washed out for days and weeks to come. You need to evacuate and do it now! By the time the storm hits, it will be too late. I urge everyone in the designated storm emergency areas to immediately prepare an emergency kit and leave the area.”

I also gave them some emergency advice from the National Weather Service and FEMA, and then repeated the need to leave. I also told people without transportation to get to a refugee center immediately, as trucks and buses would begin ferrying them to safety. Then I spoke to that part of the nation which was outside the storm zone.

“Many of you now watching this, perhaps most of you, are asking yourselves why I am disturbing your dinner or your regular television schedule for something that doesn’t concern you. Americans in Maine or Minnesota or California are wondering why I am making this a national broadcast. It doesn’t affect them. The truth is that it does affect you, each and every one of you. This is not a Gulf Coast problem; this is an American problem.

The people in this coastal region are American citizens, as are all of us. We pull together in times of trouble, and now is no different. When a tornado hits the Midwest, a blizzard buries the Rockies, or an earthquake happens in California, we as a people draw together to assist, to help people that we have never met before and might never meet again. This is part of what makes America the great nation that it is. Now that time is coming again. We must all draw together to assist those impacted by this event, and I know, deep in my heart, that we Americans will do so.

So, I will let you go now, as our nation’s emergency preparedness teams prepare to assist the Gulf Coast. I wish them the best, and my prayers are with them and with the people in the way of this storm. I know yours are as well. Thank you and God bless you.”

I sat there facing the camera until the technical people began fiddling with the lights and moving around the room. Marc Thiessen gave me a nod and a thumbs-up, and Matt Scully said, “Good job, Mister President.”

“Thank you. I just hope we have enough time to get people out of there. This is going to be bad enough without the networks broadcasting bodies in the streets and people screaming at refugee centers,” I told him.

“You really think it will be that bad?”

I nodded. “We’ll know for sure tomorrow. By then the storm will have figured out where it is going to make landfall and what area gets destroyed. The problem isn’t really the winds, it’s the water. New Orleans is mostly under sea level, like Holland. If the levees go, the city washes out to sea.”