As Rita rages, Maine Guard unit hunkers down in Mississippi

GULFPORT, Miss. – As Hurricane Rita made her presence felt here Friday with blustering winds, white-capped waves and soaking downpours, Maine Air National Guard troops maintained their post at the military installation in this coastal city with no plans to head for drier ground.

The area was predicted Friday to endure potential tornado-strength winds and periods of heavy rain as Hurricane Rita barreled toward the Texas coast, a scenario that undoubtedly will leave the 11 members of the 101st Air Refueling Wing Security Forces Squadron here a bit soggy, but nevertheless safe for now to continue their mission, Chief Master Sgt. Allen Graves said Friday.

The team will continue to protect the Air National Guard Combat Readiness Training Center as they have for several days now, patrolling around the clock to safeguard the installation’s people, resources and equipment, Graves said. Though unlikely to do so, the team is prepared to evacuate the area if the weather worsens or to head to Texas or other hard-hit areas in need of help after the hurricane passes, Graves said.

“It’s always a possibility,” he said. “We’re going to go where we’re needed most.”

The mission may soon grow to include additional duties and personnel from Maine or elsewhere to relieve weary base security staff who are working overtime hours while trying to tend to their families and damaged homes, Graves said.

Security problems have been minimal thus far, he said.

“If nothing happens, we’ve done our jobs,” the chief master sergeant said.

Controlling entry is increasingly important at the installation, which has become a hub for operations as an intact base in close proximity to damaged areas, he said. In addition, the long runway, comparable to that of Bangor International Airport, can accommodate large aircraft, he said.

The extra personnel could mean an intermittent day off for the Maine Air Guard team, who so far have none scheduled, he said. The men are sleeping better now that the day and night shifts have been separated in two different tents, Graves said.

The beige tents, equipped with climate control and power, are designed to sustain up to 100 mph winds, though it might get a bit noisy inside as the bad weather moves through, he said.

“They’re pretty comfortable,” Graves said, having just finished a fruit cup from a packaged tray of canned goods and a sandwich. “As comfortable as a tent can be.”

Walking through the tent city where the men are housed, the pathways that were dry and dusty earlier this week now are muddy and spotted with puddles. Temperatures have dropped into the 80s, though the humidity remains.

The door to the security forces building blew open as Graves watched television hurricane coverage with two of his men. The rain that pounded the building and the rest of the area minutes earlier subsided as quickly as it began, but was predicted to worsen today.

On the beach a few miles away, white-capped waves broke along the sand, still littered with trees and debris left behind in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Public works crews loaded broken pavement, wood and rubble into dump trucks even as the wind sprayed sand and water over coastal Interstate 10.

Much of the debris that littered the residential neighborhood in this area has been removed, and in the bordering business district a floating casino that sat on the interstate earlier this week was collapsed in a pile of steel and wire.

A disco ball hung from the ceiling of a gutted building frame along the water’s edge, and a hulking steel barge rested on the grass on the opposite side of the interstate, its nose nearly jutting into an intersecting side street.

Not far away, a 50-foot boat called the SS Hurricane Camille was beached on land next to a telephone pole. Nearby, spray-painted in red on a corrugated steel remnant where a house once stood, was a sign reading, “Whitney are you OK? Call Brazil.”

Along much of I-10, the houses are simply gone, the only clues to their former existence a series of driveways that lead to nothing but rubble. A small sign along the sidewalk still standing inexplicably upright read “Open House” with an arrow pointing to a crumbled foundation.

The smell, a pungent combination of sewage and decay, has subsided somewhat, though the resignation on residents’ faces remained Friday as some returned to the neighborhood to survey the damage.

A Maine Air National Guard member on patrol in the devastated neighborhood asked one man how he fared after the hurricane.

“We’ve lost everything,” the man said wearily before waving goodbye and moving on.