FLIGHT OF HOPE C-5 airlifts Hurricane Katrina victims

  • Published
  • By Staff Sgt. Tom Ouellette
  • 439th Airlift Wing
Westover ARB, Mass. --  Even the most hardened aircrew couldn’t believe what they saw. A line of exhausted and starving Hurricane Katrina victims, extending several miles, awaited entry into New Orleans’ Louis Armstrong International Airport Sept. 3. Thousands more packed the airport’s halls. A makeshift hospital, positioned in the rear of the airport, tended to hundreds of sick. 

A massive number of aircraft, from cargo planes to helicopters, both military and civilian, dominated the airport. It was virtually impossible to glance upward without seeing scores of aircraft swarming overhead. Helicopters swooped in and out every 10 seconds. 

Katrina wreaked havoc on New Orleans. The city’s unforgiving levees breached and flooded 80 percent of New Orleans, leaving survivors with few choices for refuge. Streams of victims flocked to the airport, more than 1000 per hour, desperate to escape.
And a Patriot Wing C-5 crew was in the middle of it all. 

“I’ve done relief missions before, but I never seen devastation like this. These people had nothing. Absolutely nothing,” said Maj. Gary W. Cooke, aircraft commander. 

Sheer numbers of evacuees at the airport, estimated at 20,000 when the crew arrived, forced an immediate change in the crew’s plans. Originally there only to drop off relief supplies, fresh orders instructed the crew to evacuate victims ASAP. 

The change required them to think fast. Although they had three skilled loadmasters with more than 60 years of combined experience, they never “loaded” people in such a way. Their chief concern was keeping the victims safe, a tremendous task involving limited resources and nothing to reference. 

“The last time a C-5 airlifted people in its cargo bay was during the Vietnam War,” said Major Cooke. 

Tough decisions were made. Many of the victims were elderly or babies. Scores were sick and some were confined to wheelchairs. Climbing a C-5’s ladder upstairs into the troop compartment endangered too many of the evacuees’ safety. And separating the crew into various sections of the plane was unfeasible. They were simply too small to break up to effectively watch over everyone. For safety reasons, everyone needed to be strapped in the cargo bay. 

Supplies were limited and the aircrew needed to improvise. Cargo straps were used as “seatbelts,” pinning the evacuees to the plane’s steel floor. Every available coat, jacket and shirt became pillows and blankets. Balled toilet paper served as earplugs. 

Our crew flew more than 200 evacuees to Fort Smith, Ark, where awaiting government officials transported them to old, unoccupied Army barracks in nearby Fort Chafee, Okla. “The lack of straps prevented us from taking more,” said Major Cooke. 

“None of evacuees complained. They didn’t even know where we were taking them. They were just happy to get out. The flight was actually upbeat,” said Master Sgt. Daniel G. Hogan, a loadmaster from the 337th Airlift Squadron. We didn’t even know where we were going until moments prior to take-off, he added. 

Most of the evacuees slept during the one-hour flight. “Many of them said that was the best sleep they’ve had in a week,” said Tech. Sgt. Stephen P. Allen, a crew chief from the 439th Maintenance Squadron. 

Every evacuee had stories of pain, despair and desperation. Children told heartbreaking eyewitness accounts of people dying. Dozens of evacuees asked the crew if help to find loved ones would be available. Wives, husbands, parents….even children….were missing. “Will we be able to call home? Can people call us in Arkansas?” they asked.
When the crew had nothing left to give their passengers, they gave compassion. After Sergeant Allen saw an elderly woman, noticeably trembling in fear and crying, he approached her. 

“I asked her if she was okay. She said she never flown before and was terrified of flying,” said Sergeant Allen. “I promised her everything would be alright and I’d help,” he said, “and I held her hand and stayed with her throughout the flight.” 

According to crew members, Sergeant Allen is too modest. “He didn’t just hold her hand- he held her in his arms and rocked her like a baby! It was incredible. He got her through it” (the flight), said Tech. Sgt. Daniel J. Howard, 439th MXS. 

Crew members insist they were just doing their job and were grateful to help, but the evacuees see it as much more. 

The passengers broke out a roar of cheer when the plane reached its destination. For them, the flight was no ordinary mission; it meant getting a chance at life anew. It was their flight of hope.