Navy aviator John Cauthen’s final letter from Sumatra describes
how the tsunami disaster continues although the waters have long
since receded. Though Cauthen is still involved in helping provide
food, water and medical supplies to survivors, this is his final
letter written for the Free Lance.
Navy aviator John Cauthen’s final letter from Sumatra describes how the tsunami disaster continues although the waters have long since receded. Though Cauthen is still involved in helping provide food, water and medical supplies to survivors, this is his final letter written for the Free Lance.
The last two days of assistance have been some of the more difficult to date, not physically but emotionally.
We are discovering more and more villages that seem to be cut off from the outside world and no matter what we do, it never seems to be enough. I do not know how many displaced persons there are on the island but I estimate the number to be in the thousands and possibly in the hundreds of thousands, and the most heartbreaking aspect is that most of these people seem to be children.
In some villages I estimate that the ratio of children to adults is easily 4/1. Where are their parents? They are most certainly dead. Who will care for and raise these children? In all likelihood they will have to fend for themselves.
What amazes me is, when we come in for a landing the children gather as our rotor wash whips the air around them, they run in and out carelessly, smiles adorning each face, laughter flowing freely. They play as if nothing has happened, they leap into the air and are thrown back to the earth by the wind swirling about our aircraft, and they sprint up to our windows with massively bright smiles and a hope that seems to match.
The food and water we bring is hope enough for the time being. But an entire generation may well grow into adulthood with no family and a pained memory of what was and what will never be.
The needy are as prevalent as they were the day we arrived. As we circle overhead we are witness to the masses emerging and gathering around our prospective landing zones.
Clean drinking water has become a major concern. We have gotten reports that the people are beginning to drink from rivers and from creeks. Although not stagnant, the rivers flow slowly and are brackish from the run off of the mountains and the farm lands. Cholera is a concern, but there is no confirmation of an epidemic. Diarrhea and dehydration is prevalent.
USAID has secured thousands of five gallon jugs and these have been ferried back to the ship to be filled. We have four condensing units aboard and can make as much fresh water as needed to fill these jugs. Once they are filled, they are loaded into the aircraft and are delivered to the worst areas.
We have delivered nearly three quarters of a million pounds of food, water and medicine but there are still thousands of people that need aid.
My only worry is that with as many orphans as we see, the adults who have become their stewards will sacrifice their well-being in order to make sure the kids are fed. There must be some balance and the evidence of this balance is not promising.
Many of the adults are looking emaciated, their faces sullen and their bodies tired. Strangely enough, nearly every time we depart an area we are given the thumbs up salute. As exhausted as the adults look, the relief in their faces shines through.
Typically we fly low and fast. Today we climbed to a height of 2,500 feet and the view was as impressive a sight as I have ever seen. The landscape is absolutely beautiful, crystal blue waters off the coast and vibrant green jungles covering the mountains like a blanket. But behind this beautiful scenery, we become witness to the destruction in a new capacity. From a bird’s eye view we see the disaster as God might.
In some areas, the wave moved nearly five miles inland, wiping out everything in its path. Reports from survivors have confirmed what we see everyday. The wave has been reported to have been anywhere from 60 to 80 feet in height and moved at such a speed that any trees or buildings in its path were either flattened or just disintegrated.
I cannot even begin to fathom that type of force and power. But as humans have done for centuries, they will eventually rebuild and return to the now devested shoreline.
The US Navy will be here for some time to come. Our sustainment operations cannot go on forever and eventually thought must be given to rebuilding the infrastructure so that these people can become self-sufficient once again.
