Answering the call

There was devastation, entire towns swept away by raging rivers and unending rains; homes moved blocks from their foundations. And people from all walks of life either stranded atop a mountain or walking around with only the clothes on their backs and a deed in their hands, a deed to a home that no longer existed.

But despite the heart-breaking sights being played out in over 15 western North Carolina counties last week, it was the goodness of people that four Sampson County sheriff’s officers say they will remember most about the days they recently spent providing “static security” for Black Mountain, Swannanoa and Asheville, protecting supplies brought in to assist in relief efforts.

“I witnessed humanity at its best,” attested Lt. Donald Carter Monday. “I mean, it showed me, above everything else, that humanity still exists. Despite all the negatives you can hear or see, despite the devastation all around us, there were all these good, really good, people flocking here to provide for the needs of their fellow man.”

Carter, along with fellow officers Emory Brown, deputy and Midway Elementary SRO, Capt. Scott Hodges and Deputy Austin Taylor, had recently returned from two different stints in the mountains, answering a call from the North Carolina Sheriff’s Association and the state Emergency Management Services department to assist in any way needed in those three mountain towns.

Hodges, Taylor and Brown returned last Thursday, Oct. 10 from their four-day stint; Carter came home Sunday, Oct. 13 and was part of the second group of four officers from Sampson who were, they said, eager to do what they could in areas that desperately needed the help, any and all help they could get.

“Plain and simple, we were needed, they called and we went,” Carter said emphatically during an interview Monday.

Hodges nodded in agreement. “Our desire to help people doesn’t stop at the county line. We are willing to go where the need is, do what we are called upon to do. So when the call came, we were ready to go.”

Taylor lays hands on the conference room table at the Sheriff’s Office and shakes his head in agreement. “I lived in Ashe County and went to App State, so I wanted to go, to help in any way that would assist.”

Ditto Brown who grew up in Burke County. “I spent my formative years there in Burke so I wanted to go up there and help those folks. I think we all did.” He points at Carter. “Like he said, they called and we wanted to help.”

Taylor had worked for the 911 Center in Ashe and was on road patrol there for a while. Going back to help was all he could think to do, all he wanted to do.

Not one of them knew what their assignment would be when they arrived and, to a person, no one cared what job they would be called on to do.

“You have to go up there with an open mind, willing to do whatever might be needed at the time you are there. I had no idea what we might be called on to help with; I just knew I wanted to do my part,” Taylor said.

That open mind, he stressed, is something anyone who wants to help needs to have before they go. “You just never know what you might be asked to do; just be ready and willing,” he added.

Thousands of people, the four men said, were doing just that — volunteers flocking to the mountain region from across the country, all with hearts open and boots ready to hit the ground prepared for whatever they were called upon to do.

“The reality of it,” Carter pointed out, “is that when we arrived, we saw this overwhelming abundance of help and this overwhelming abundance of destruction.”

The destruction

Having been through hurricanes and tornadoes in Sampson County, the four said they thought they knew what to expect when they arrived in the area.

They were wrong, each admitted.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Brown acknowledged, shaking his head in disbelief. “I had been through hurricanes Fran and Floyd, but this, well it was on the scale of the biggest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life. You know here, we might lose a road or two, a bridge here and a bridge there. But up in the mountains, well, just take Highway 9. Just about every hundred yards or so, the left side of the road would be gone, then another hundred yards and the right side would be gone. Another hundred yards and there would be a tree down, another hundred and a power pole would be blocking your way.”

“Oh year, Carter interjected, “you could see roads like that all over. There were cars inside houses, houses you could see all the way through, a foundation but no house, and mud, there was mud on everything. Where an asphalt parking lot used to be was all mud, now hard dirt. Looking around, it was like seeing a modern-day old west town.”

They talked about a hulled out gas station, debris piled high, mud and muck covering everything, and people camped out inside the shell of the structure. In some areas of Asheville, they said, you could hardly tell there was a problem. In others, a far different story could be seen.

“It was true in many areas. In some places you didn’t know anything had happened, but in other areas, well, it was like a complete and utter war zone, nothing standing,” Carter recalled.

Taylor interjects. “It’s true. Up in Ashe, where I had lived, to me those people are part of home, and it was hard to see the neighborhoods I used to ride through suffering, to see so much need, so much total devastation.”

“What got me,” Brown added, “was that everything was destroyed. Homes gone, people displaced. Literally thousands who have no place to go … many probably won’t be able to build back or who didn’t have any flood insurance who are now having to knock away or cut away the destruction and keep what is good of their home because they can’t replace it. I mean some can’t build back because the land, I mean the very land is gone, washed away.” He wipes his hand at the air.

Carter listened intently seemingly trying to recall a memory of his own. “My heart just goes out to all these folks. Think about it. In many cases, they haven’t just lost a source of income, they’ve lost every bit. They have nothing. It all fell into the river or got swept away by it.”

They all agreed that the devastation was unfathomable and would take decades to recover from in some areas.

Yet the strength and resilience of the western North Carolinians, they said, was on full display.

“It may take them a while,” Carter stressed, “but they’ll be back.”

“Oh yeah,” Brown interjected. “They are strong and they have hope because they see all these people coming here to help them; they see the care and concern.”

Taylor agreed. “They know they aren’t alone in this. They have so many people, from all over the place, ready and willing to help.”

The help

From EMS workers and dispatchers to law enforcement and church groups, like Baptist on Mission and Samaritan’s Purse — and every group in between — people from all walks of life are assembled in many of those counties, armed with tools, supplies and hearts, the four men said, of pure gold.

They talked of seeing people using pack mules to carry supplies to people in hardest hit areas where roads have washed away and people, refusing to leave the only home they have ever know, in need of bottled water, food and even medical supplies.

“Some,” Carter said, “are using four-wheelers to cut paths where roads no longer exist, all to get those supplies to those cut off from the rest of the world.

“I even heard of a fire department and rescue squad using ATVs to get up to people who need medical attention,” Taylor pointed out.

It’s called, Carter added, “adapt and overcome. Whatever scenario you face, you have to find a way to overcome the obstacles and meet the need. That’s what people are doing because they have to do it.”

A kinder, gentler people

They talked repeatedly about the resilience of the people of western North Carolina, their strength and their appreciation for all those who were there to help.

What is humbling, Carter said, is something he and others witnessed, themselves. “When we first got up here, we were going to get something to eat at Cookout and someone came up to me and just thanked me for being there and being willing to help. And they threw $20 on my dash and absolutely refused to take it back. Wouldn’t hear of it. Now here they are struggling and they reach in their pocket and give us $20 to go eat as a thank you. Unbelievable.”

But perhaps even more unbelievable, and humbling, was what happened next. “So we are in line to get the food, and there’s a lady and a small child in front of us,” Carter recalled. “She wanted a sticker for the little girl and we didn’t have any. I apologized and she simply thanked us for being there. But when I got to the window to pay for the food with the $20 the other person gave me, that lady had paid for our food. I was speechless,” Carter said.

“All I knew to do was take that $20 and pay for the person behind me and hope they would keep paying it forward.”

Carter said to see those most impacted by the storm reaching out to help, too, was beyond touching. “Even in their worst time, here these people are trying to find a way to help and say thank you.”

And, Brown noted, “watching people helping people, caring for one another, that’s very sobering.”

It was those acts of kindness and deep appreciation that touched each of the officers, giving them, they said, a different perspective when they returned to Sampson County.

“I told my wife,” Hodges said, “that I just don’t have anything to complain about. I need to be thankful for what I have because it could happen in a blink of an eye and what you have can be gone.”

“Be grateful for what you have. I mean, don’t even take for granted those bare necessities because I’ve seen people who didn’t have even those,” Taylor added.

All four said the experience had left them humbled, thankful and buoyed, and to a person they all said they’d return to help tomorrow if called on to do so.

And each man agreed that it was refreshing and uplifting to see the best in America again. Likening it to the days after the 9/11 terrorist attacks on America, they talked about how people were showing a care and concern that brought great pride.

“You aren’t seeing all the negativity. Up there, there aren’t any Democrats or Republicans, Christians or Muslims, it’s just people helping people,” Taylor stressed.