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"Don't let me die in this water by myself"

SURVIVORS RECALL KATRINA'S TERROR: "DON'T LET ME DIE IN THIS WATER BY MYSELF"

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BY

Cox News Service

SLIDELL, La. – Alone in her one bedroom house, confined to a wheelchair, Fluffy Sparks did the only thing she could think of when Hurricane Katrina's flood waters rushed into her home: she prayed.

"I prayed like I've never prayed in all my life," said the 46-year-old woman, who watched in terror as the waters rose to under her chin as she sat in her wheelchair. "I told God, 'I can't believe you're ready for me now. Don't let me die in this water here by myself.'"

Somehow Sparks managed to haul herself up onto her small, wooden-legged kitchen table. Miraculously, the water stopped rising just as it reached the table's top.

"I'm breathing," she said Tuesday morning, sweating in a mud-stained gown and watching a parade of people wading and passing in small fishing boats down Fremaux Street, which was still covered by thigh-deep, but thankfully receding waters. "It was horrible, and it's still horrible, but I'm breathing."

Sparks' terrifying story is just one of hundreds, possibly thousands, that will be shared for generations in Katrina's aftermath.

With rescue teams still plucking people from rooftops and in some cases cutting into attics to save victims, Louisiana officials had yet to release any firm casualty numbers. But the worried look on Gov. Kathleen Blanco's face at a press conferences Monday and Tuesday – and news that much of New Orleans was underwater Tuesday after the city's protective levees failed - underscored fears that the toll may climb to frightening levels.

Slidell, a sleepy town about 30 miles north of New Orleans on the shores of Lake Ponchartrain, was one of the hardest hit places. According to survivors, Katrina's eyewall passed over the town, an eerie few moments of calm before the giant hurricane's winds picked up again.

"The birds came out and you could hear them singing," said Lorrie Dabdoub, who stayed with her husband Paul, a Baptist minister, in their Slidell home, which escaped serious damage. "But then it started up again."

Katrina's winds devastated the city's towering oak and pine trees, uprooting hundreds. Some tall pines snapped like matchsticks, leaving thirty-foot high jagged stalks still in the ground. The city's residential streets resembled obstacle courses Tuesday, with giant trunks and bushy crowns making 20-foot-tall roadblocks that residents were slowly clearing with humming chainsaws.

Some trees made direct hits on houses. A new two-story residence just north of Fremaux Street was riven nearly in two by a giant pine that crashed diagonally across the front porch, tearing out the second-floor wall next to a dormer, leaving a confusion of splintered wood, puffy yellow insulation and shiny air conditioning ducts.

Other homes took glancing blows, with pines taking out corners or coming to rest on roofs that still appeared intact.

But while the trees devastated dozens of homes, Katrina's floodwaters did the most damage. The city is nestled next to Lake Ponchartrain and Bayou Bonfouca, both of which rose with a speed that astonished residents.

"The water just came rushing down the street," said Kevin Cox, 33, who sent his pregnant wife Angela and their small child to a relative's home in Baton Rouge but stayed behind when Katrina hit. "I watched it rise up the brick steps of my house and couldn't believe how fast it went. I started moving everything I could to the second floor and then got an axe so I could cut my way out of the roof if I had to."

Fortunately for Cox, the water stopped just beneath his home's front door. But his home is some four miles from Lake Ponchartrain, meaning hundreds - maybe thousands - of other homes near the lake and the bayou were flooded, many to the rooflines.

"We estimate 80 percent of the homes in Slidell were flooded," said Capt. Rob Callahan of the Slidell Police Department. "They've been warning us for years about the 'Big One,' and I guess we thought we were invincible. We were in the cross hairs of this one, ground zero, and it was unbelievable."

Callahan and the rest of the police force had to evacuate their building when the floodwaters rose in a matter of minutes, inundating the first floor. Callahan's own home was under 12 feet of water, prompting him to move, with his two dogs, to a concrete floored cubicle in a warehouse in a city maintenance facility.

As of Tuesday, police had found no bodies, although they heard reports of bodies floating and even tied to trees near the lake. Rescue teams plucked more than 100 people from rooftops on Monday, and were continuing the tedious work Tuesday.

The squad's radio tower came down in the storm, leaving them unable to communicate with state officials or among themselves until they got back up radios from the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff's Department. Shortages of fuel and water and the lack of power and telephone service hampered the rescue efforts.

At one point Tuesday volunteers showed up offering to help clear the city's streets with chainsaws, but had no gasoline. Callahan smiled and directed them to siphon a few gallons out of a nearby truck.

"Don't tell anybody, but that's the chief's truck," he said.

Connie Canada, 44, was in her home about four miles from the lake Monday afternoon when suddenly water appeared in the street.

"It went to six feet in what seemed like 20 minutes," she said. "We climbed up on the roof, and then a boat from the neighbor's house across the street floated over to us, trailer and all. We climbed in that."

Tuesday, Canada and friends had gathered a small plastic bin of items they salvaged from the house – a few clothes and other items – and were making their way in a flat-bottomed fishing boat to a nearby shelter.

"We found these cigarettes floating down the street, so we're taking them back to the shelter for all the people hollering for a smoke," she said.

Like most, Sparks was simply glad she survived. Confined to a wheelchair after an accident injured her left ankle a year ago, she spent Monday night on her kitchen table above the water, armed with a flashlight and her prayers.

Tuesday the water had receded out of her house, leaving a soggy mess. Her computer and small stereo had smudgy high water lines on them, along with the walls and her furniture. Her home's green carpet was a soggy, mud-spattered mess, the bed still dripping, the bathroom inoperable.

"But my little angels survived," she said, pointing to a couple of small porcelain figurines attached to the frames of religious pictures on her walls. "It's gonna be alright. I've got food and water, and I know some people will be coming to check on me. Material things can be replaced. Wal-Mart's open 24 hours, so I'm not worried about that."

Mike Williams' e-mail address is mwilliams (at) coxnews.com.