2 minute read

Twenty years after the storm that made New Orleans even more of a swimming pool than it already was, it would be tempting to sum up the colossal chaos of Hurricane Katrina with some impressive figures: Over 1,833 people who’d probably rather not be reminded of what happened, a whopping $108 billion in damages that no insurance company wants to chat about, and enough battered homes to make HGTV convulse with episode ideas. But while the nation loves a good statistic-fest, Robert Ditch, our resident don’t-forget-local-catastrophe guru and Civil Air Patrol (CAP) lieutenant colonel, emphatically declares that disasters hit best when they hit home.

Ditch, a seasoned storm chaser—with actual storms, not reality TV dramatics—reminds us: “All disasters are local.” This is common knowledge for anyone who’s ever tried to find the last carton of milk at the supermarket before an impending snowstorm. Ditch brings a wealth of experience from both simulated wars and battles with Mother Nature. Back when Katrina decided to play tag with the Gulf Coast, CAP was already rolling out their aerial photography skills and search and rescue acumen with finesse.

Despite not being in the CAP fold during Katrina’s romp, both Ditch and CAP Maj. Gerry Creager, whose meteorological wisdom could rival that of a particularly verbose cloud, have tales to spin about this storm-of-storms and some epiphanies to enlighten us on how to cope when nature throws its next tantrum.

Let’s flash back to 2004 when Ditch was busy at Louisiana State University, executing an exercise hilariously titled “Hurricane Pam.” It was the dry-run disaster that predicted what might happen if Katrina decided to belly flop into New Orleans. Fast forward to February 2005, and Ditch found himself facilitating a seminar in New Orleans, possibly trying to keep straight-faced as officials vowed they’d take massive preemptive steps for hurricanes of Katrina’s ilk. Spoiler alert: They didn’t.

When landfall was imminent, Ditch’s decision to head to Dallas instead of New Orleans spared him from becoming one with the quadruple-layered evacuation traffic pile-up. Post-landfall, he braved the apocalypse—to Picayune, Mississippi, and St. Bernard Parish—with medical assistance teams that pulled a M*A*S*H act, complete with high school stadiums as makeshift ERs.

Creager, on the other hand, was busy proving he could outguess the weather models regarding Katrina’s landfall with a team of scientists who took to betting where this beast would burrow into the coastline—Florida or Louisiana. Creager turned out to be the Nostradamus of the group, predicting pretty well the path and force of Katrina—to the point that it probably just amused the Hurricane Center.

Creager made another record with Katrina’s whopping wind radius, further convincing the skeptical world about climate change, albeit with a tactical playful dodge of directly exclaiming it out loud. There’s nothing quite like looking at an approaching 400-mile-wide wind menace to rethink vacation plans.

Ditch believes CAP, like anyone punished with a strict diet post-party, needs more agility. No, they won’t be sprouting gym memberships, but maybe less rigid protocols and more flexibility when the unexpected kicks in. Creager champions an early-bird participation in planning because the best way to respond to chaos is to foresee it, or at least bluff it convincingly.

In a world where terrorism and natural calamities play tag with global anxiety levels, Katrina reminded everyone that Mother Nature still has a seat at the roulette table of disaster destiny. When she throws hurricanes, the nation better know there’s more to life than just dodging Darth Vader reenactments of villainy. Just like in a rollicking game of Monopoly, Mother Nature’s still in it for the win.

Updated: