A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”?
2. In what movie (and who said it) did we hear, “We improvise, we adapt, and we overcome.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear the following:
   Hot town, summer in the city
   Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
   Been down, isn’t it a pity
   Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
   
   All around, people looking half dead
   Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head

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We’re right smack dab in the middle of hurricane season here in Florida, which is “officially” designated between June 1 and November 30. I’ve lived in Florida most of my life, as has my wife—she grew up in Miami; I grew up here in Gainesville. We’ve been through many hurricanes and I can tell you from experience, no two are the same. You’d think we might get used to them, especially as we get older, but I’ve got news for you… you don’t.

I never heard the term, “The Oh crap bag” when I was in the Navy. It was something we just didn’t need to worry about. When you’re a young, unmarried sailor stationed in NAS Agana, Guam (’73-75) or aboard an aircraft carrier, USS Kitty Hawk (’75-77), you don’t have that much to haul around. Simply put, if it didn’t fit in your seabag, you didn’t need it.

I first heard the term when I worked as a firefighter with the City of Gainesville, not long after I left the Navy. During a call to a house fire, one of the more “seasoned” firefighters made the comment, “I sure hope they took their ‘Oh sh*t bag’ with them.” After the fire was out, which BTW, devastated most of the house, I caught up with him and asked what he meant.

That’s when I learned that the “Oh crap bag” is a prepacked bag with important stuff you grab on your way out the door when you have to leave in a hurry and you’re not sure if your house will still be there when you return. It takes the guesswork out of what you need when you need it.

It’s not something to joke about… this is real.

Florida hurricane season

Hurricanes come ashore somewhere in Florida almost every year. Some are worse than others. But in every case, we have the “opportunity” to watch the Weather Channel and the local news to see where the storm is, where it’s expected to hit, and decide from then, whether or not we need to leave the house. In other words, we usually have a lot of warning (and, I might add, a lot of anxiety) ahead of time… that is, for hurricanes.

At the beginning of the season and when a hurricane approaches, the newspapers, local TV stations, and social media always provide a “checklist,” commonly called a “Disaster Supply Kit.” This contains common sense supplies, such as a flashlight & radio (with batteries), first aid, and pet care items. This year, they’ve included COVID-19 items like face masks, hand sanitizer, and cleaning wipes—like that’s one more thing we need to worry about. Sheesh!

Hurricanes are NOT the only worry…

But—you may not know this—hurricanes can spin off tornadoes. That’s a totally different story. You never know when or where those disasters hit. And, unlike hurricanes, there is rarely any warning.

My wife and I lived in Idabel, OK for a year in the mid-80s. I worked as an electronics engineer for Weyerhaeuser Company, a forest products company. We actually started this “journey” in 1982 in Federal Way, WA, midway between Seattle and Tacoma in the Pacific Northwest… beautiful country. We were there for a year. I blogged a little about that earlier.

However, I musta stepped on someone’s toes, though, because after my first year, the company transferred us to a pulp & paper mill in Valliant, OK, located in the armpit of southeast Oklahoma. I say that jokingly. It was a lovely place, beautiful country, we made some good friends, and… my daughter was born there.

But we were 10 miles from Texas and 20 miles from Arkansas. If we went out to dinner in Idabel (that’s where we lived), we’d eat at a Sonic drive-in restaurant or at Bob’s Catfish house. Not a lot of night life in Idabel.

But I digress….

We were fortunate enough to NOT see or experience any tornadoes while living in what we commonly called, “Tornado Alley.” But we had an “Oh crap bag” ready, just in case.

I’ve been through a tornado or two here in Gainesville, both as a firefighter (that was interesting) as well as a citizen (that was challenging). They are scary and–my wife and I have talked about this several times–even if we needed to evacuate, where would we go? In Oklahoma, people had underground storm cellars; in Florida, if you dig down more than two feet, you hit water. Not a lot of options here other than to hunker down.

And yes, we’ve spent more than one night sleeping on the floor in the hallway, away from windows and doors. That’s not a lot of fun, trying to get some sleep but staying mostly awake, listening to the wind howl and the trees sway, hoping that nothing comes crashing down through the roof of the house.

No power for days

There was that time, though, a couple of years ago when a hurricane came right up the middle of Florida. While we didn’t sustain any house damage, it blew (“micro bursts”) several huge oak trees down in various parts of our neighborhood, which took out the overhead power lines. Long story short, we were without power for six days. Fortunately, we had running water and our propane gas BBQ grill, so at least we could make coffee and cook a few meals. We kept our cold stuff in ice chests and coolers.

The first few days were okay, and we could sleep with the windows open because it was cool at night. But then several neighbors cranked up their diesel generators. They kept them running day and night. Not that it reminded me of my time on the flight deck behind a jet exhaust, but I found myself more than once reminiscing those times, “triggered” by the smell of diesel fuel and exhaust.

I learned something new, though. The Gainesville house we bought when we moved back from West Virginia in 2015 had been completely renovated including new plumbing, with the new water pipes run through the attic. Since it got hot in the afternoons, that meant the water in the pipes was also hot (we had an electric hot water heater). So, back to the standard Navy-issue “three-minute” showers.

After six days, the utility crews finally restored power. It turns out that on our neighborhood block, two power poles had snapped in half during the storm. There were hundreds that had snapped city-wide, and the utility company simply ran out of replacement utility poles. But we were thankful that the damage wasn’t any worse.

Losing a house

I have a close friend who lived on the St. John’s River in St. Augustine. Over the years, she & her husband have more than once hunkered down during hurricanes. They were far enough inland that the hurricanes didn’t affect them as if they had lived directly on the coast. That was… until a few years ago.

Their house was about an hour and a half from us. In the past, she’d come over to stay with friends here in Gainesville while her husband remained behind to ride out the storm and “take care of anything” he could during the storm. While they’d had damage to their wooden dock a time or two during past hurricanes, nothing compared to the unexpected storm surge caused by this particular hurricane two years ago.

Her husband recorded a dozen short videos on his phone from inside the house as the water began to rise in the river—the “storm surge.” First it was two feet below the dock, then an hour later, water was even with the dock. Then the dock disappeared, but the water still had not made it over the river bulkhead.

Not much later, the waves were strong enough to crash over the bulkhead. The house was about 20 feet away from the river. Then the river peaked over the bulkhead, but not in the house (yet). Then, the waves began to crash up against the sliding glass doors knocking them off their tracks, but he was able to put the doors back in and physically hold them in place, keeping the water from entering the house.

A little while later, the water was not only under the house, but coming in through the front door. It wasn’t pretty. By the time I got over there the next day, the water had subsided, but he was mopping it up the best he could. Water was still in the garage, about a foot deep, but he had managed to save as much as he could. We pulled the carpet, mopped and squeegeed, and got most of the water up off the floor, but there was a distinct waterline about six inches up the walls.

I know they weren’t the only ones whose home was damaged that day; many neighbors also experienced damage. The thing is, that house had been on the river for forty-plus years and had seen many hurricanes. This one, though, was the one that did the most damage; so much, that the house couldn’t be saved.

They are safe, though, and found another place not too far from their old house. It’s near, but not as close, to the St. John’s River.

Mother Nature doesn’t kid around

We live in Gainesville, Florida, located a couple of hours from each coast, about an hour south of the FL/GA line, and two hours north of Dizzy World. We don’t get the flooding and winds that the coastline communities receive. Yes, we get damage now and then, but mostly, it’s debris from the trees. After a major storm, we usually fill up four or five garbage cans of this “salad” debris.

We’re at that age where we don’t want bad things to happen to anyone. In one sense, you’re happy that the hurricane didn’t directly affect you. But on the other hand, you don’t feel right hoping it goes somewhere else, because you know it’s going to hit somewhere and wherever that somewhere is, it ain’t gonna be pretty.

Survivor’s guilt

I’m sure I’m not the only one that has this “selfish” thought. While I’m talking about hurricanes in this post, I know also from experience on both the flight deck and as a city firefighter, that no matter how careful you are, sometimes, people get hurt. But if you’re “lucky” enough to not be hurt, you sometimes still carry a feeling of guilt. 

Over the years, I’ve spoken with many veterans, including WWII, Vietnam & Vietnam-era, and GWOT (Global War on Terror). Many of us periodically experience a “trigger” that takes us back to a not-so-good memory of an event that occurred during our time in the service. We rarely like to talk about it, especially with our families and our kids. One thing I have noticed, though, is that it’s often easier to talk with another veteran who’s shared a similar experience–someone who’s “been there and done that.”

The “1000-yard stare” is a common term, I’m sure you’ve heard. Most of my veteran friends know what I’m talking about. I experience that periodically. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to remember, because it helps remind me of the good times I’ve had in my life, too. Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and “tweak” a few things, but that’s not possible.

Am I the only one that thinks that way?

What’s in my “Oh crap bag?”

So, seriously, what’s in my “Oh shit bag?” No real surprises here. We have important legal documents and a few small irreplaceable “family” items. Not a lot (it’s a small bag), but those are things that we would need should we lose the house and not be able to recover anything.

I’ve thought about expanding my “bag” and instead, have an “Oh crap van.” That way, I could also load up all my family (and NAVY) photo albums, my mom & dad’s “pass-me-downs,” my computer(s), hard drives, backups, and a few more clothes. But then, with the hurricane season as it is—that is, hit or miss—I’d be spending a lot of time loading and unloading. Sheesh.

And of course, I need to remember to carry that one other item… our “new” alarm clock we fondly call Moosche, our cat. we can’t forget him. I’d miss reveille without him.

Stay safe, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Previous posts mentioned in this blog:

• Blog #43 – The Shipyards, Part 2
• Blog #19 – The 3-minute Navy shower: A Luxury, Compared to…
• Blog #21 – Reveille!… and Other “Alarm Clocks” Over the Years

Answers

1. Maya Angelou.
2. Heartbreak Ridge (1986), Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Highway (Clint Eastwood).
3. Summer in the City (1966), The Lovin’ Spoonful; written by John Sebastian, Mark Sebastian, Steve Boone.