Dan RatherTHE FLIGHT deck of the aircraft carrier the USS Abraham Lincoln is usually dominated by the whoosh of F-18 Hornets taking off and landing. Now, though, these deadliest of fighter planes stand to the side and below decks, and the beat of
helicopter rotors is the sound that prevails.
In tsunami-stricken areas where it is next to impossible to get relief to those who need it most, the Abraham Lincoln's helicopters, and their pilots and crews, have become an indispensable part of keeping people alive. They alone can take fresh water, food and medicine past roads and bridges destroyed by the crushing force of the inundation.
BEAUTIFUL COBALT BLUE SEA
As one approaches the island of Sumatra in one of these helicopters, the first impression from a height and at a distance is one of overwhelming beauty,
of emerald-green hills and a
surrounding sea of the deepest cobalt blue. It is only when one moves in lower and closer that one begins to see just how terrible that beautiful sea can be.
The devastation is overwhelming and nearly complete. Your reporter begins counting the naked concrete foundations of buildings, and finally stops at well over
a hundred. Twelve bridges destroyed. Here and there, a mosque still stands. Otherwise, the scene evokes nothing so much as the worst imaginings of a nuclear catastrophe. Helicopter crew and reporter alike gape at the view.
On the ground, people run toward the spot where they think the chopper will land. They
hesitate when the bird touches down, then come closer as the crew begins offloading supplies with practised efficiency. There is exhaustion here, and desperation, and a remarkable civility despite it all. In one small town, an older man with no English points first to his mouth and then to a group of hungry children. And when the wind blows from the nearby
forest, one cannot avoid the unmistakable smell of death.
Survivors put their hands together in a gesture of blessing and thanks as the crew finishes offloading one more batch of aid and prepares again to take off. It's a scene that is being repeated dozens of times a day for days on end, as the carrier groups' crews work around the clock on their mission of mercy.
WORST HIT
Sumatra, near the quake's
epicentre, has borne the very worst of its effects. But it humbles and boggles the mind to realise that scenes of this sort are to be found all over the tsunami zone. In those places hardest hit by this historic natural disaster, the need is obviously acute, but it will probably also be, for years to come, chronic. Recovery will take staying power on the part of the governments involved and the world community.
Right now, the massive aid coming into this region is slowed substantially and painfully by an inadequate and battered transportation infrastructure. The helicopters are a mighty help around this problem, but there are still limits to where they can be, and how many missions they can fly.
Meantime, the destruction stretches beyond sight and beyond the reach of aid workers. They understand the grim calculus of disaster better than most, and in the town of Banda Aceh, your reporter talks to two young Americans from the United
States Agency for International Development. They know that, despite the world's best intentions and actions, some people will likely starve. And they draw a
distinction between their usual work, administering U.S. foreign aid, and what they are doing now.
Like the crew of the Abraham Lincoln and its helicopters and support ships, their usual work has been supplanted by the monumental task of emergency relief. One can only hope that, somehow, all their efforts will be enough.
Dan Rather is a television broadcaster.
