According to the head of the Army Corps of Engineers, Lieutenant General Carl Strock the levees were perfectly safe up through a Category 3 hurricane, but he made no assurances beyond that. New Orleans would be safe.
“You sound pretty positive, General. What happens if one of the levees fails?” I asked.
“In a case like that, you might expect to see some isolated problems, but unless the storm gets to a Category 4 or 5, we’ll be fine,” I was told.
“General, I am not going to tell you your business, but I would make sure that you plan on some immediate and major repairs if something goes wrong,” I warned him.
“We already have taken that into consideration, sir.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. “General, I am not reassured. From what Doctor Mayfield is telling us, Category Three might be on the low side of estimates. Anything higher than that is going to scrape New Orleans down to the original mud flats. Mister Brown, your agency has done some assessments. Is that a correct statement?”
Mike Brown nodded, though nobody on the call could see that, and he said, “Yes, sir. Everything we have seen says that there will be widespread destruction throughout southern Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, and even into eastern Texas. If the levees fail in New Orleans, most of the city will be underwater.”
Governor Blanco of Louisiana immediately requested a state of emergency be declared, seconded by Haley Barbour of Mississippi. I went along with that, and promised any assistance we could offer. That was when it became tricky. Ray Nagin, the Mayor of New Orleans refused to issue a mandatory evacuation warning, and only wanted a voluntary evacuation. He wanted, instead, to set up temporary rescue centers on higher ground, just in case, and stock them with some food and water, if necessary.
“Mayor Nagin, let me make sure I understand you. Everybody else wants to shut down the area and get everybody out, and you don’t? Do I have that correct?” I asked.
“Mister President, that is hardly my position…” He was off and running. The bottom line was that if he ordered an evacuation, he would be causing chaos among the residents who were unable to leave, and there would be widespread liability for shutting down the city. If you read between the lines, he was worried about getting sued in case the storm wimped out or missed the city! I think he knew just how unprepared his city was for a disaster, so he was simply going to hope it didn’t happen. If it did, hey, not his fault!
I listened to him futz around for a bit and looked over at John McCain, who seemed as disturbed as I was. Finally I had enough, and simply cut him off. “Okay, I’ve heard what I need to hear. Let’s get to the heart of the matter. According to the Stafford Act, I have the authority to declare a state of emergency as needed. It’s needed. Governor Blanco, Governor Barbour, Governor Riley, let’s just draw a horizontal line through the middle of your states. All the counties or parishes below that line are emergency areas. If you haven’t already done so, call out your National Guard, all of them, every last one. Issue immediate and mandatory evacuation orders for anybody living on any body of water. I don’t care if it’s a duck pond; have them move inland and away from it. Mayor Dow, Mayor Nagin, issue the evacuation orders.”
“Mister President, you don’t have that authority,” replied Nagin.
“Mayor Nagin, we’ve never met, so you don’t know me. I’m going to make this real simple. When push comes to shove, you don’t tell me what I can do, I tell you. If it comes down to it, I will declare martial law, throw your ass in the stockade, and drop the 82nd Airborne on your city to take control. Are we clear on that, or do I have to give you a demonstration?” I replied.
Nagin shut up, and a moment later the White House switchboard came over the line and reported his connection was broken. I stared at the others for a second. I was sure he would report that it was a communications failure, but the reality was that the bastard had hung up on the President of the United States! Unbelievable!
There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then I heard the voice of Hailey Barbour, the Governor of Mississippi, come over the line. “Uh, Mister President, were you serious about martial law?”
I grinned at the rest of the people in my office, most of whom also looked a little stunned. “Hailey, I really don’t want things to get that far, but I think this storm is going to get bigger, not smaller. I think it would behoove everybody involved to go above and beyond in taking precautions. Governor Blanco, New Orleans is your city. I would suggest that you talk to Mayor Nagin and explain things to him in a clear and certain manner. If he fights me on this, he will lose. I am expecting mandatory evacuation orders for the storm zone in time for the evening news. Is that understood, madam?”
I could hear the gulp in her voice. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. General Myers, you are authorized to prepare as needed for this event. I’ve been to Fort Polk a few times, but that was twenty-some years ago as a lieutenant. Do you have helicopters there?”
“Yes, sir, and we have already begun moving them away from the storm area,” he answered promptly.
“AWAY!? Why are you moving them away?!”
“Mister President, if a hurricane goes through that area, those birds will be destroyed on the ground. It is standard procedure to move them out of the area, and then move them back in as soon as the weather allows us. I would also add that we are beginning to move more equipment in from elsewhere in the South.”
John McCain chimed in at that point. “Carl, he’s right. Helicopters and airplanes are very fragile in high winds. We lost a lot of planes at Homestead in Florida during Andrew.”
“Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. I was airborne artillery, so I never learned all that much about flight operations. When will they be able to begin flying rescue missions and supply deliveries after the hurricane goes through?” I asked.
“We’ll have to stop at least a day before the hurricane hits, and we won’t be able to start up again until anywhere from 36 to 48 hours afterwards, depending on weather conditions and wind speeds. The same goes for any fixed wing flights,” he told me.
“Huh!” So much for any ideas about flying missions right up to the hurricane and right after. “That settles it. We need to start getting people out now! Nagin wants to ride this out and hope he gets lucky. I don’t have that luxury. I am going on the air tonight to let people know. Is everybody clear on this?”
I heard a chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’s out of everybody, and I let them all go. Then I turned back to the people in my office.
John McCain spoke first. “If this thing wimps out, you are going to look like a five star horse’s ass!”
I nodded wryly at him. “John, I am going to look like an ass regardless. I am going to get the personal blame for not stopping a hurricane, no matter what. That’s fine. That’s why I get the big bucks. The difference is whether I look like a horse’s ass with a few hundred people dead, or with a few thousand people dead. Wait until the levees break and the networks begin airing footage of dead bodies floating in the streets!”
“Jesus!” muttered Frank lowly.
“Yeah! We do not need for that to happen! We have two choices here, bad and unbelievably worse!” I looked over at Will, who had been relatively quiet. “Get me time on the networks tonight, all of them, and get me Matt and Marc to help me write a speech.”
“Got it!”
I turned to John and Mike Brown. “I want you two to hightail it down there. We can’t manage this long distance. John, if I do need to declare martial law, or something else equally drastic, you give me the word. I will back you completely, and take the heat. Hailey and Bob won’t give us any trouble, but Blanco’s a lightweight, and I wouldn’t trust Nagin as far as I can throw his worthless ass.”