Disaster

By Marty P.

Emotion overwhelmed Roy as he tried to comprehend the unthinkable.

~~~

“What was that?” he asked his wife after the shuddering stopped.

She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder, “honey, you’re on vacation. You don’t hafta see if help is needed.”

“It sounded like an explosion to me and a pretty powerful one at that. I’ve gotta go.” Rushing to the closet, he shrugged into a shirt and pants.

“Be careful,” his wife called as he disappeared from sight.

Maneuvering his car down the debris-laden street was a challenge. He pulled to the curb when he saw a mother and child covered with glass and multiple cuts staggering toward him.

He removed a clean rag from his trunk and tried to staunch the flow of blood trickling from the little girl’s forehead. “How did you get hurt?”

“I was running the Hoover in the living room and Barbara was playing with her dolls in the corner when the window exploded. The phones were out so we started walking. I need to find my husband. He works near the waterfront.” She looked exhausted after giving her explanation to him.

“Let me take you to the hospital, hop in.” He led the woman to the front seat and placed the four-year-old on her lap.

Progress was slow because he had to keep changing his route to avoid the rubble in the streets. Whatever had occurred was horrible but right now he had a task to complete.

At last he arrived at the hospital and drove to the entrance. A weary nurse listened to his report and then motioned toward the waiting room, “I’m not sure when we’ll get to you. We’re swamped.”

He guided his charges to the overflowing hallway and saw that the few chairs it possessed were already occupied. It reminded him of a standing room only crowd at a baseball game but these people were here for treatment not recreation. The woman leaned against the wall and gazed at him with mournful eyes, “please find my husband. I need to know if he’s okay.”

Feeling like he’d done as much as he could for her, he put his hand on her shoulder and nodded. He had just offered to travel fifteen miles to seek the information she needed to hear, “I’ll need to know his name.”

“It’s Anders, Andy Anders.” She watched him scribble her husband’s name and her eyes followed him out of the room.

With the valuable information in hand, he left the hospital and advanced toward the destruction. The atmosphere was eerie, as if he had entered a science fiction film and was the only survivor.

His tires crunched over the endless glass coating the roads. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of an automobile with a huge piece of metal protruding from its windshield. Leaving the engine running, he approached the car to see if they needed help but a quick glance told him they were beyond help. He brushed his hands over his eyes to erase the image in front of him and raced back to the car.

Several miles later he came to a school. He slowed to gape at the sight but slammed on his brakes when a boy darted in front of him. “Help!”

“What’s the matter?” He got down on the lad’s eye level, put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and saw his dirt-streaked, panicking face.

“The stairs fell down and I can’t find my sister Sonja! I saw her standing on them. I just gotta find her!” He grabbed the man’s hand, dragging him into the building. They entered and found several adults feverishly attacking the collapsed stairway. He joined the rescue efforts. At last they were able to peer under them and extricated several injured children.

“She’s not there!” The boy evaporated into the crowd of children. He considered staying to help him find his sister until he caught sight of him talking intently to an adult in the cafeteria. It was then he remembered his promise to Mrs. Anders.

He fastened his seatbelt and shifted into drive after the engine caught. As he approached a grocery store another explosion rocked the area. He stared in horror as a car overturned in front of him. When the movement stopped, he opened his door and braced himself to check on the driver but to his amazement the driver climbed out of the car and was on his way before he reached him. As he watched a teenage girl darted up to the driver and they clung together, breaking into tears of relief. Satisfied that they were all right, he continued on.

A few blocks from the store he swerved to avoid a boy on a bicycle. The young man ran into the curb and landed on grass. Within a split second, the bicycle crashed on top of him. He flew out of the car and trotted over to him. The boy gave him a tragic look. “Where are you hurt?” the man asked as he tried to see his injuries.

“I’m okay. It’s my dad,” two tears spilled onto his cheeks.

“Your father?” The man surveyed the area but didn’t see anyone.

“My dad is the chief of the fire department. I know he went as soon as someone reported seeing smoke. Then there was that terrible explosion and I was hoping so hard he was still alive. But now we just had another one. It felt really bad. I think he’s dead.” The boy sniffed and turned away from the man.

“Son, don’t give up until you know. And be proud of your dad for being there to make a difference, no matter what.” The man lightly touched the top of his head and added, “I promised someone I would find out about her husband. So, I’m gonna do what I can to find him. What’s your name? I’ll see what I can find out about your dad.”

“Harold, Harold Baumgartner. Thanks Mister.” He raised his face to the man, a face that was battling with hope and despair.

“I better go now,” he gave the lad a brief smile and went back to his car. When he glanced in his rear view mirror he saw the boy righting his bicycle. He took a deep breath to calm himself and added the name Baumgartner to the sheet of paper he was carrying.

As he neared 1st  Avenue the number of automobiles on the road increased. He saw flames bursting from a house, and the traffic crawled until they were waved on. He expected to see a police officer with a whistle but the traffic conductor was a civilian dressed only in his underwear and covered with oil. He found a place to stop and saw a Good Samaritan talking to the man.

“I’ll take you to the hospital, Mr…” he offered as he came to their side.

The man suddenly realized he needed care. “Tarin. I’m not sure where my family is, or how they are, or if any of them are…” his voice trailed off.

~~~

Johnny tapped him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna land in about ten minutes.”

Roy shook his head to clear his thoughts, “what did you say?”

“Roy, you’ve been lost in that book during our entire flight. Must be good.” He tried to peer at the front cover but Roy had removed the dust jacket.

“Johnny, I’ve been reading an account of the Monsanto Fire that took place in Texas City, Texas in 1947. It was pretty horrible. Listen to this…

In April, a ship loaded with ammonium nitrate exploded. The force of the explosion was so powerful that it was felt 150 miles away, caused two planes to fall from the sky and created a tidal wave.

The volunteer fire department with its entire crew of 26 and its 4 pieces of apparatus arrived at the scene. None of them survived. There were over 550 fatalities and over 3,000 injuries. Property loss to the Monsanto Refinery and the town of Texas City came to nearly $100 million in 1947. Over 1/3 of the town’s residences were condemned, and there’s more…”

“Roy, could I take a look at that book when you’re done with it?” Johnny fastened his seatbelt and put his hands in his lap. With a solemn look he turned to his partner, “Roy, I hope we never have that kind of destruction again.”

“I know, Johnny. Me too.”

http://firehistory.weebly.com/the-monsanto-fire-texas-city-texas-1947.html

http://www.local1259iaff.org/disaster.html

http://www.local1259iaff.org/paststories.html

Click HERE to send Marty P feedback

Guest Dispatchers             Stories by Marty P.