Katrina Chronicles III

As I said before, this was written by a dear friend of mine who rode out Katrina in the French Quarter. To read the previous posts go

http://middlemostpost.com/index.php?itemid=613 here
and
http://middlemostpost.com/index.php?itemid=597 here
and I suggest you read the whole thing on his blog.

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=8543985&blogID=68924828&Mytoken=105d86b0-b9ef-4fe8-bb72-fb50d2978cd8
As we hit Baton Rouge proper, Klaus told us that we were going to get some food, then head on over to L. S. U. campus to the Journalism building. Once in the city, it was amazing to see the amount of traffic and congestion that Baton Rouge was experiencing. The streets were gagged, emptied gas pumps covered in black plastic sacks. Some stores had lines out into the street, more blank stares and paranoia. We ate our meals quickly and as we exited the restaurant we had a smoke since the rain had kicked up again. A gentleman also smoking at the ashtray outside was dressed in hospital scrubs and sporting a look that suggested that he had also just escaped from the same dark place that we had. We were right.

He told us that he was a staff member at one of the hospitals in the city, he was also there for four days. We asked him if it was bad there, were the rumors true? He replied that it was horrible, the bodies of the deceased patients piling up in the hallways sometimes at the rate of two to three an hour. The staff was giving themselves injections of complex B vitamins and saline to stave off exhaustion and dehydration, working all the time, no sleep til salvation. Then there were the gangs of thugs, storming the entrances, they wanted the drugs and had the guns to get them. Police finally arrived, but not before panic had set in… You could tell that he was still in the grip of that fear, his glazed eyes and too calm demeanor belying his true face.

snip

As we answered questions and gave explanations for some of our answers, Klaus pointed out that some of the kids walking around campus had pained looks on their faces. They were the ones with the nametags on, the ones with tired shoulders. It seemed that because of the hurricane the campus football stadium was being used as a makeshift triage area and the students had been given a three day break from classes. The kids we were seeing with the nametags, they were the ones who took those three days to volunteer to help the sick and infirmed who had just been brought out of the disaster area. We marveled at their sacrifice and giving natures, then answered more questions. After some time, Klaus just listened to us, letting us tell him just about the entire story you have read up until now. He took copious notes and always asked the right questions; when we finished it felt good, almost as if we had caught up to the shock for a moment, we were able to really relax and learn more about Klaus. We came to realize that he was as wary as we were at first, but once he got to know us, he had no problems ferrying us out of harms way.

As we told him how much we sincerely appreciated his act of kindness, he responded cool and calm. I could tell that he wasn’t trying to seem as if he was full of himself, or show that he was pained by what he had seen in New Orleans. He handled the situation better than any other person I met from the outside. He told us that he was probably going back the next day to rescue more people, persuade others to do the same. Words fail me when it comes to explaining the amount of respect and gratitude I have for Klaus Marre… He had saved us from any number of indignities and horrors; he was also one hell of a nice guy. I could go on forever, but there is more story to be told.

Continued at the link