Editor’s note: The following letter was written to Free Lance
Advertising Director Denise Cauthen Wright by Jeff Cauthen, her
cousin, a Naval Aviator from the Bay Area, while he helped provide
relief to tsunami victims in Sumatra on Wednesday, Jan. 5.
Editor’s note: The following letter was written to Free Lance Advertising Director Denise Cauthen Wright by Jeff Cauthen, her cousin, a Naval Aviator from the Bay Area, while he helped provide relief to tsunami victims in Sumatra on Wednesday, Jan. 5.
I cannot even begin to appropriately describe the magnitude of devastation and destruction that I saw yesterday. In my life, and as vivid an imagination as I have sometimes, I could never have envisioned what we saw. I now know how over 100,000 people have died.
There is no question about the power of this tsunami and the toll it has taken on not only the dead, but those who were fortunate enough to survive.
As we flew into the country, the catastrophe became readily apparent as we encountered massive amounts of debris floating in the water, some of which I am sure were bodies. As we approached the shoreline and flew over the beach, the damage done was on an unimaginable scale. Entire communities are absolutely vaporized with no signs of life ever having been there except for the remnants of a few foundations. Swaths of earth were entirely missing or consumed by the sea. What was once land has since been reclaimed by the water.
As we moved about one to two miles inland from the beach, the destruction became more visible. Some houses and buildings remained standing while other were toppled over. Busses, tractors, boats and portions of buildings lay scattered in areas they normally would not be in.
The city of Banda Ache on the northern tip of Sumatra is no more. It has been carried out to sea or has been swallowed by it. The survivors have congregated at the airport which is about five or six miles inland and located atop higher ground.
They have been receiving basic assistance and I believe that most are awaiting evacuation to another part of their country if not out of it. The airport has no controlling agency and the sheer number of Navy helicopters as well as fixed-wing heavy-lift aircraft have turned it into a veritable three dimensional traffic jam. It is chaotic and hazardous as we all speak on one radio frequency and try to keep separation with only our eyeballs.
The inclement weather is compounding our efforts to bring food and relief to the people who are stranded on the western portion of the island south of Banda Ache. It’s not a very comfortable feeling when we are suddenly swallowed up by clouds and rain at 300 feet while flying around a country characterized by 12,000 foot peaks.
When we finally landed at the airport we were told to shut down and wait. There were eight helicopters standing by as well as thousands of pounds of food, but there were no attempts to merge them together. Much to our chagrin, the authorities at the airport would not release the supplies until the politics of the situation had been resolved.
After our admiral met with their general, we loaded about 2,500 pounds of food and drink into our helicopter and departed for the west coast with another loaded helicopter. As we flew out, our minds returned to our mission, but it was difficult to ignore the landscape. It was nothing more than a cesspool, but had once been a large seaside city.
Our destination was a small and now isolated village about 100 miles south of Banda Ache. Only portions of the road that once ran south along the western coast of the island are there. There are no bridges and the same destruction and devastation we saw earlier is apparent every where. What were once towns and villages bisected by this two-lane highway were completely gone. The earth is barren except for the occasional lone tree or section of paved highway. There is a significant amount of ruble and debris and it is difficult to say what is a corpse and what isn’t. Unfortunately there is no way to get to these areas except via helicopter.
As we continued further south, the amazing thing was that amid all the destruction there were mosques that remained standing. They were in no way unharmed, but to see a lone building standing amid the ruin gave one the sense of just how terrible this tsunami must have been. It is surreal and unfathomable to think that in an instant a community can vaporize.
As we finally neared our target village, we realized how desperate these people were. Upon hearing the aircraft, they slowly emerged from their homes and congregated in the streets. First a few came, and then a throng followed. Most beckoned to us with arms outstretched pleading for us to land in places that we could not conceivably land a helicopter.
The village was flooded with rain water and ringed with homes, wires and rice paddies. The two helicopters circled overhead for about 10 to 15 minutes as we searched for any landing site that might accommodate a 20,000-pound helicopter. We could not find a suitable place to set the aircraft down and eventually settled on hovering over a rice paddy and dumping our cargo out.
As we set up and came down for the hover, the people rushed forward like a school of fish escaping a predator, only these people were coming for relief. The men and young boys threw themselves into the maelstrom that our rotor wash was creating in the water and dirt with no regard for their safety. Their only concern was to reach the food.
We dumped as many boxes as we could but eventually the throng of people became so thick that the boxes were hitting the men in the faces. We would slide away from them and begin dumping onto open ground again and the people would follow. There were no Indonesian police or military in this particular town and I believe we were the first outsiders they had seen in almost a week.
To look out our windows and see the desperation and terror on their faces mixed with hope and relief was heart wrenching. It was one of the most terrible things I have seen while being one of the greatest things I have seen. My crew chief who was dumping the food said that a middle-aged man caught the last box of food we had and that as soon as he wrapped his arms around it the smile on his face stretched from ear to ear.
As we slowly lifted away, the crew chief gave the thumbs up sign and the man returned it, still with a beaming smile. It was evident that these people were more than happy to see us.
My only hope is that we can make it to more of these isolated villages in time not only to deliver food but to deliver medical personnel and supplies. We are out again today and the operation should slowly be getting more efficient. More to follow as it comes in.
The Free Lance will continue to publish Jeff Cauthen’s letters home throughout the week.
