Tuscaloosa residents gather in a parking lot where food,
water, and supplies are being distributed to those in need
in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. (AP Photo/Dave Martin)
The tornadoes which hit the southern United States on
Wednesday marked the second-deadliest day of twisters in US
history, leaving 341 people dead across seven states -
including 249 in Alabama. Thousands were hurt, and hundreds of
homes and businesses have vanished into rubble.
Federal Emergency Management Agency workers are handing out
information to people in shelters about how to apply for
help. National Guard soldiers are searching for survivors and
helping sift through debris. Churches have been transformed
into buzzing community hubs.
In Tuscaloosa, a Red Cross shelter was handing out clothes
and providing counseling for people like Carol Peck, 55, and
her 77-year-old mother. She said the shelter's First Aid
station even refilled her blood pressure pills without her
having to ask.
She can't explain how it happened, but she suspects her
clinic contacted the shelter.
"Evidently, because I sure didn't call," she said. "They knew
I was here. I don't know how, but they found me."
In Ringgold, Georgia, Poplar Springs Baptist Church had been
transformed into an informal help centre. Crews were
dispatched from the church, some with chain saws to chop
through the debris, others with bottled water and food.
Inside the gymnasium, a barbecue buffet was feeding those
without power.
"You've got elderly people out there who can't get out there
and do it," said volunteer Kathleen Hensley, 40, of Ringgold.
"They need a hand."
The University of Alabama's athletic department was pitching
in around hard-hit Tuscaloosa, with more than 50 athletic
training students giving Gatorade, bottled water and protein
bars to residents.
"Anything they have to give athletes, they're giving away,"
said Jenny Sanders, one of the volunteers.
And most were grateful to get whatever they could.
Niki Eberhart, whose home in the Alberta City neighborhood of
Tuscaloosa was shredded by the tornado, said Saturday that
her husband and two children are getting everything they need
at the shelter. And it isn't the first time they've counted
on the Red Cross. When their home in Meridian, Miss., burned
down last year in an electrical fire, Eberhart said the Red
Cross responded within an hour.
"We feel like we've been blessed," she said. "Both times it
could have been much worse. We lost things. Material
possessions can be replaced."
Eberhart and her husband, Shane, also had already gotten help
from FEMA workers at the shelter. And while they wait for a
response from the feds, Eberhart dismissed relatives' offers
of sympathy.
"I told them we're having great luck because it could have
been so much worse," she said. "If you don't have any bad
times, how are you going to appreciate the good times?"
As some tried to clear the rubble and sort through
belongings, others took on the task of burying the dozens who
died. Several funerals were being held in Rainsville in
northeastern Alabama, including services for 70-year-old
Hubert Whooten, his 70-year-old wife, Juanita, and her
mother, Lethel Izell, 86.
"They were just normal, hardworking country folk," family
friend Kevin Black said outside the Rainsville Funeral Home.
"If they seen you, they're gonna call you by your name and
(ask), 'How're you doing?' That's how it is around here."
But planning funerals was a struggle for many as they dealt
with destroyed homes.
"A few of the families I met, with they've lost everything,"
said Jason Wyatt, manager of Tuscaloosa memorial Chapel.
"It's hard for me to hold my composure. They don't have
clothing or anything."
Clarence Plump's wife was among those who died when the
tornadoes hit Tuscaloosa. The 36-year-old steel worker said
his wife would go out of her way to help anyone and was a
loving person. He was rummaging through his family's
possessions Saturday and found a few photos and little
bicycles he put on a flatbed trailer hooked to his truck.
"Right now I'm just trying to straighten out my family and
get back on track," he said.
Many residents still couldn't even get into the town of
Cordova, Ala., where stern soldiers cordoned off the few
roads that weren't left impassable by fallen trees. The
school, one of the few buildings to survive the twister, was
buzzing on Saturday. Students stuffed baskets full of lunches
at the cafeteria while their parents sorted supplies across
the hall.
Landmarks in the town northwest of Birmingham, had been
obliterated.
"I knew it was bad. But pictures don't begin to describe it,"
said 19-year-old college student Rachel Mitchell as she drove
through town. "This is really hard. This is where I grew up
and now nothing is here that I remember."
Still, frustration reigned for some. Eugene Starks, 82,
worked with a tow truck driver Saturday to salvage a
blown-out car from what was left of his garage in Pratt City,
a blue-collar suburb of Birmingham. He said he was grateful
to have survived the storm - "I give God credit" - but he
needed more help recovering belongings from his home.
"I'm trying to do what I can myself," he said. "I hope the
government steps in, but I'm not holding my breath."
On the outskirts of Phil Campbell in northwestern Alabama,
44-year-old Nickey Hughes was left to protect the rubble of
his mobile home in a family-size tent he was sharing with his
three grandchildren. He hasn't been able to find a shelter or
a vacant hotel, so he's staying in the tent to scare off
would-be looters.
"I've got help. I've got food and water. But I have no place
to go," Hughes said. "I'm living it a day at a time, and that
is getting to me."
Gov. Robert Bentley had dispatched 2,000 National Guard
troops around Alabama to help residents and keep the peace.
Many blocked off roads or patrolled neighborhoods to keep
away gawkers and looters. Others helped residents sift
through their shattered homes.
Carletta Wooley, 27, was going through some of her belongings
in Holt, a community just outside Tuscaloosa. A pile of her
family's belongings stood at the foot of a tree - a mirror,
some hats, a pillow, a stereo. One of the soldiers picked up
a photograph and handed it to her - it was of her son, when
he was a baby.
"I'm going to cry," she said. "Thank you."
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