10/13/2024
The last time Tampa avoided a direct hit:
As if the 9/11 terrorist attacks were not enough, Mother Nature decided to join the events of that week. Tropical Storm Gabrielle was churning in the Gulf of Mexico and made its way up the west coast of Florida, presumably heading for the Florida panhandle.
On Thursday afternoon, September 13, 2001, I was still in the squadron with Lt Col Eden Murrie. She had returned with General Tommy Franks on the EC-135 from Greece, flying across the eerily quiet Atlantic Ocean on September 12.
Karin called me and asked, “Are going to evacuate your planes for the hurricane?” I replied, “No, it’s heading for Pensacola.” She informed me, “No, the news just came on with an update. Gabrielle is now a Category 1 hurricane and made a right turn. It’s coming right towards Tampa Bay.” That was certainly timely information to get from my wife!
Eden and I immediately went down the stairs from our squadron, crossed the large, cement hangar floor and entered the weather shop nearby. A technical sergeant was looking down at his weather charts as we approached his desk.
I asked, “Do we need to start thinking about evacuating our aircraft?”
He looked up and stuttered, “Y-, y-, yes.”
Eden chimed in, “And when do we need to do that?’
He replied, “Now would be good!”
“When were you going to tell us?!” I asked, amazed.
“I was just about to pick up the phone to call you,” he stammered.
So, thanks to Karin’s warning, we quickly assembled our crews to evacuate the EC-135, the CT-43, and our one Gulfstream C-37 before gale force winds exceeded their takeoff limits.
Our commander, Lt Col Murrie, flew out on the EC-135 and I remained behind to watch over the squadron.
A light-hearted moment during these stressful days was provided by a British tanker crew. They had landed their Royal Air Force VC-10 refueling tanker at MacDill on September 10. The call went out September 13, directing that the Brits fly their tanker to a safer location.
The VC-10 aircraft commander, in his distinct British accent and a bit of a slur, replied, “Right, Mate. That’s goin’ ta be a bit o’ a problem. Me and me mates have been drinking quite a bit. Do you have a hangar you can put our airplane in?”
This was passed along to Brigadier General Hodges, and he directed that their tanker be placed inside one of our American hangars to ride out the storm.
It was a bit of levity during those heavy days. Our squadron was on the second floor and the forecast called for major flooding of our low-lying airbase, just 13 feet above sea level. I remained in the squadron for three nights, sleeping on a blue cloth sofa I pulled into the squadron operations center. From my second-floor perch, I’d stay well above any potential flooding as the parking lots below took on water.
On Friday evening, September 14, I sat alone watching a rebroadcast of our nation’s memorial service led by President Bush and Reverend Billy Graham from the National Cathedral in Washington D.C. That was a very somber but meaningful ceremony.
Sitting alone in the silent, dark squadron, I soaked it all in quietly.
That evening, Karin finally broke down in tears, telling me over the phone, “I can handle a terrorist attack and a hurricane, but not both in the same week!”
Sympathizing with her, I said, “Go into our bedroom and look under my nightstand.”
As I waited on the line, Karin retrieved the box of jewelry from Bogota. As she opened it, I told her, “I was saving those for your birthday, but I think you need them right now.”
She opened the box to find the gold ring with four green emeralds, matching earrings, and a heart-shaped pendant of sparkling green emeralds. My gift was much appreciated and provided a loving moment between us, which was just what we both needed at that moment.
