The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast

by William Wresch

Chapter 20 –

  The beast appears

  The next morning I was up at six. I had gotten a call the day before from the local manager of Murphy Manufacturing. Remember – the accountant? He asked if I would be part of the boat races. Being clever, he waited until I said “yes” before he explained we would not be riding around in a power boat, we would be paddling a “dragon boat.” It turns out the races are a community fund raising event where dozens of local companies pay for the right to field a team of twenty rowers who then race the other boats. Murphy Manufacturing had agreed to field a team, and since I was in town, LeClerk thought it might be good for me to join the team. I could meet more of the employees, build morale, etc. Being completely ignorant of what I was really being asked to do, I had agreed.

  Now I had to get myself down to the south end of the island at an ungodly hour. Fortunately, the island is not all that big, basically six blocks wide and eight long. Our house is at the north end, and the races would be held in a park at the south end. I decided to walk, so Elise would have the car if she decided to come down later. It really didn’t take all that long to get down there. Right across the middle of the island is a four lane street that connects the bridge over the river to the bridge over the marsh, but there was little traffic there, and I was able to quickly get to the park.

  What I found was a tent city that had been set up, with each company competing to have the grandest tent with the most food. I found our tent and was pleased to see it was not only large, but it had been decorated with an interesting logo - “Murphy Manufacturing” set over an outline map of Canada. Inside the tent, LeClerk was passing out company polo shirts with the same logo as the tent embossed above the pocket on the front and writ large across the back.

  “Everyone,” he shouted when he saw me, “This is Shawn Murphy. He has agreed to paddle on our team.” That got a shout from the two dozen employees in the tent. I wasn’t sure of the enthusiasm level, but it appeared mostly genuine.

  “Thank you for letting me join you,” I replied. “I think this will be great fun. But let’s win this thing, okay? Lunch is on me tomorrow if we win.” That brought on a more enthusiastic cheer. So, now that we had shirts and had been introduced, what happened next? It appeared we stood around for hours waiting for our chance to race.

  Maybe I should explain how these races worked. Some company had brought in five dragon boats – really just long, narrow fiberglass boats with ten seats and a big rudder on the back. Two people were to occupy each seat, armed with paddles. The race course was set south from the island down to the major highway that crossed the river about a hundred yards below the island. There was a row of concrete supports under the highway bridge as it crossed the river, and the dragon boats were to go through them, turn around, and then come back to the park. It didn’t look too hard, but as we watched the first group of boats go out, we could see the challenge. The Mississippi has a huge current, and in June the river is really running strong. The island provided some protection from the current, but the farther the boats got from the lee of the island, the stronger the current. Then there was the problem of turning. These were long boats, and while they had a rudder, they also had twenty people who could lean the wrong way, or leave a paddle in the water. Add the current to the picture, and you have boats that could capsize. Everyone wore a life preserver, and there were rescue boats stationed where the boats would be making the turn, but it was pretty clear you took the turn with care. Then, assuming you were still afloat, you had to paddle against the current back up to the island. It occurred to me I had left a nice warm bed and a beautiful woman to risk drowning. I didn’t know when LeClerk came up for his next performance review, but I thought I might insert a comment or two.

  While we waited for our turn in the boats, I ate a couple croissants and some fruit and talked to several employees. Was I the owner? No, I was one of the sons of the owner. Was there some special reason to visit the plant? No, I was in town to study some its history, since I am a history professor at the National University in Green Bay. But didn’t you say you were the owner? No, I am one of the sons of the owner. Do you do work for the company too? Yes, I help with some sales calls in Green Bay. Is there a big plant up there too? No, it is much smaller.

  This went on for a while, but eventually they got bored talking to me. Some of them had brought their families along, and they played with their kids, or talked with co-workers. I kept watching the boats make the turn and wondered what idiot had decided this was the place for a race. Didn’t they have any lakes within driving distance?

  Finally, our turn came to race. The company that owned the boats and managed the race had several men hold the boat steady while we got in. Good idea, or I think we would have flipped it right there alongside the dock. These were not very stable boats. What idiot had decided this was a safe and sane way to entertain twenty amateurs? On the plus side, once we were all in, they put one of their men in the stern to handle the rudder. It turned out he would also be shouting directions. So at least there would be a bit of adult supervision.

  I ended up seated in the second row, paired with a man who looked like he lifted shipping containers for a living. His shoulders were so broad I thought he was going to edge me right out of the boat. I slid as far to my right as I could, and hoped I didn’t fall out. While all the others were being loaded behind me, I look down and saw several inches of water in the boat. Was it already sinking? Or had the last users made that much of a mess splashing around? Once again I remembered that I could have stayed in a nice warm bed with a beautiful woman.

  The man at the helm decided we needed some instruction before we left the dock. Smart man.

  “There are a few basic strokes you all need to use. If I shout ‘stroke, you all put your paddles in the water and try to pull together. If I shout ‘right stroke’ that means you on the right paddle and those on the left keep your paddles out of the water. ‘Left stroke’ means only the people on the left paddle. Usually, if I have to call left stroke or right stroke, it means we are drifting and I need your help straightening the boat. Got it? The only other command is ‘jump in the water and swim for your lives.’” We all laughed at that. He was joking, right?

  With those instructions clearly in mind, we pushed off and slowly slid down to a starting line, really just the general vicinity of a motor boat that would monitor our progress. At this point the crowd started cheering, after all, we had our own fans, as did the other four company boats. A couple of our more extraverted folks started shouting at the other boats as well, telling them how we would wait for them at the finish line. You know, the usual banter of athletic contests. I would have joined in, but it seemed there was even more water sloshing around in the bottom of our boat. I hoped we would just get this event over with.

  And then we were started. They even fired a gun in the air. They were taking this race seriously. We did too, and really dug in with our paddles. And that was the first of our problems. Some dug deeply and pulled slowly, others pulled faster, and within three strokes we were hitting each other’s paddles and getting in each other’s way. We were also splashing lots of water on each other and into the boat. We laughed. We paddled. We made some progress, mostly because the current pushed us down the river. We paddled more, and generally kept pace with the other boats. Our helmsman shouted “stroke, stroke” and gradually we got more in unison, but we were still hitting each other’s paddles and splashing water everywhere.

  And suddenly we were under the bridge. That had been fast! But of course, any expert would have seen we did it too fast, as did all the other boats. “Stop paddling” was the shout across the water, while each of the helmsmen tried to turn against the current. They managed, but we were swept well past the bridge before the turn was made, and all of us held our breath as we saw the boat lean and the Mississippi rise up just inches from our sides. One boat took water, and was imm
ediately swamped. They didn’t capsize, but they had to be pulled from the water by one of the waiting motor boats. Getting twenty rowers on deck had to be no easy task, but we weren’t paying any attention to them, we were watching the water rise closer and closer to our gunwale. We leaned against the turn to increase our freeboard, but of course all it would take is one person leaning too far and we would flip the other way. I am not sure anyone breathed while we made the turn. We certainly didn’t have anything clever to say, we just wanted the turn to be over.

  And finally we had made the turn. But by now we had to be fifty yards past the bridge, fifty yards more we would have to paddle against the current. “Stoke right” came the call, and we began paddling as we finished the turn. “Stroke all” got everyone moving, and we dug in. At first it seemed we were paddling but still moving backwards away from the island, but eventually, we started to make progress. I could feel the backs of my arms burn and my shoulders ache, and we hadn’t even made it back to the bridge yet. Others were feeling it too, and I heard a few begin to complain about the effort. This was suddenly real work. Those in the boat who lifted and loaded creates, guys like the man on my left, held out the longest, but even they started sucking wind by the time we got to the bridge. And the park? That looked like it was still a long way off.

  Two good things happened in the next fifteen minutes. First, as we got closer to the island, the current eased off and we had less resistance. Thankfully, since we had all pulled about all we could pull. And second, we didn’t win. We did a pretty respectable job, but we finished second. We all expressed concern at not winning, but I wonder if I was the only one who realized that the winner of each heat would have to do this all over again as winning boats competed against each other a second and then a third time to determine the race champion. Having been down that river one time, and having seen what it took to make that turn and stay dry, I was elated with our second place finish. We would get a tiny trophy for the lunch room, and more importantly, we would get the opportunity to watch the rest of the races from the comfort of our tent. I was fine with that, and judging by the shouts of the others as we reached the docks, I wasn’t the only one. This was one time where being second was a great thing.

  Elise was waiting at the dock, as were lots of other family and friends of all the employees. They gave a shout, and made us feel good, but the best I felt was when I got out of that boat. I walked up the dock on rubber legs, gave Elise a kiss, and led her to the company tent. It was barely ten in the morning, but I enjoyed a glass of apple wine and a couple pastries. I felt like I had earned the extra calories. I wasn’t the only one who collapsed in a chair and downed a glass of wine. I had never worked so hard in twenty five minutes in my life.

  While I sat sucking wind – and wine – Elise made the rounds talking to the company employees and families. The rank and file may not have been too sure about my status, but they had no doubts about Elise. She was “Minister” to all, and was introduced proudly to family members. As always, Elise handled it all with calm and poise.

  While she was working the room, I was watching the next race unfold from the comfort of my chair. Our tent was open to the front, so a dozen of us who had paddled the last race, sat and sweated and commented on the techniques we saw being employed by the five boats that had begun the next race. Now that we were experienced, we all seemed to feel qualified to critique each paddle stroke and every turn. And we found plenty that was lacking. We were especially mindful of the turn.

  “They are all going under the highway too fast,” was one comment. “They will have an extra hundred meters to paddle by the time they turn.” The fact that we had done exactly the same thing did not bar us from criticizing the error in others.

  “Look at that turn,” observed another. “They are much too sharp. I bet they are in the water before they finish the turn.” And, unfortunately for that boat load, the prediction was right. The boat swamped and they all had to be pulled from the water by two motor boats.

  “That’s not going to work,” was another judgment. “See them trying to turn just by using the paddles on one side? Look how wide that is taking them.” And that seemed to be the case. Someone clever on the boat had decided that by paddling, rather than using the rudder, they could take a more gradual turn and so not swamp and not drift far down the river. It was an interesting strategy, but it took them well out into the middle of the river, well into the current, so it almost looked like they would cross the entire river to the Illinois side. “They’re going to lose for sure,” was the final comment.

  At least it was the final comment before the screaming started. Because just about that moment, we could all see a chain of barges come around the bend. There were four of them, chained tight and being pushed by a very large tug. It was instantly obvious it was going to run right over the dragon boat. We all jumped up and started shouting at the boat, but there was no way they could hear us at that distance, and even if they did, it was far too late to do anything. They were all going to die in the next five minutes, and all we could do was watch.

  The people on the boat weren’t blind. They saw the barges too, and we could see lots of pointing and frantic attempts at paddling and turning, but you can’t beat the laws of physics. The barges couldn’t stop, the dragon boat couldn’t move fast enough or turn quickly enough, so the result was inevitable. Twenty one people were going to die.

  By this time everyone on shore was aware of the problem. People were screaming at the boat. “Turn! Paddle! Hurry! Watch out!” Dozens, and then hundreds of people screamed their advice, but it didn’t take a sailor to see the situation could not be saved. The barges just kept coming, and the dragon boat kept moving at a snail’s pace. There was nothing that could be done.

  But then the barge captain acted. Working from cameras he might have mounted in front, or from radio calls he was receiving from on shore, he became aware of the boat, and he changed direction. This was not immediately obvious to us on shore, but gradually we could see that he was no longer following the channel. Swinging a degree or two to the east, he slowly veered toward the Illinois shore. It was still not clear if he would miss the dragon boat. It would be very close. The two vessels were a hundred yards apart, then fifty, then twenty. People on the shore stopped screaming. The park went silent. With ten yards of separation, it was not possible for us to tell from shore if there would be contact or not. Finally, when the barge got to the same place on the river as the boat, we could see the two had missed. The bow wake from the barge pushed the dragon boat several feet into the air, then let it down – safe.

  A huge cheer went up from the park. People started screaming at the boat again. “Paddle!” as if they might do anything else. And gradually we saw the boat come closer to the park. They were going to make it. Everyone cheered. Only when the boat was almost to shore did any of us give any thought to the barges. And when we did, it was too late to react. Out of the marked channel by over forty yards, the barges took the supports out from under the highway bridge, taking down all eight or ten of them on the Illinois side of the river, hardly slowing down in the process. From where we stood, it looked like it was plowing through cardboard.

  I think the barges would have kept going straight on to New Orleans, but by the time the leading edge of the first barge was hitting the last support posts on the south edge of the bridge, the northern edge of the bridge was already falling, twisting, bringing six lanes on concrete down on the second barge. Crushed under the weight of the bridge, that barge dropped straight down eight or ten feet to the bottom. The next two barges kept coming, and stacked up against the wall of concrete that now lay in their path.

  While we were watching the barges pile up, someone pointed to the other end of the bridge. Over on the Missouri side, we could see explosions of concrete dust and then hear the screech of tearing steel as the huge forces of torque from the other end of the
bridge worked on the Missouri side. Tons of concrete and steel had twisted and fallen sideways at one end of the bridge. Now the Missouri end was exploding as beams broke away from concrete posts and the northern edge of the bridge followed the rest of the bridge down into the water. In slow motion we could see the entire bridge break free from its supports and stand on end across the river.

  Human reactions are funny in such moments. Clearly we had no idea what we were seeing. Somehow a six lane bridge was now lying across the Mississippi. How could that be? But we all had the same reaction. We found our loved ones. Elise and I looked around, found each other and quickly moved to each other. Every mother in the park immediately gathered all her children around her. In minutes, every family group was standing together, all of them touching.

  So far, no one was moving, and while there was some talk, and some shouting for lost children, there was no focus to the vocalizations. People individually were trying to make sense of what had just happened. Mothers reassured crying babies, fathers knelt next to little boys. There were small motions in many places in the park, but no general direction to our movements. We simply didn’t understand what had happened, and we certainly did not understand what was about to happen.

  At what point did we know we were in trouble? I think a full fifteen minutes passed. We could see the bridge on its side, and we could see some turbulence from the collapse, but the bridge was about a hundred yards down river, so we missed many of the early signs. Our first understanding began as we did a very human – and foolish – thing. Lots of us (Elise and I included) walked forward to the edge of the island. Walking maybe twenty or thirty feet through the sea of corporate tents just to get a better look at the bridge was silly, of course. We were still a full hundred yards from the bridge, so it’s not like those extra twenty feet were suddenly going to give us a much better view. But we walked through the tents, down a slight hill, toward the docks where the dragon boats were still coming in from their race.

  It still took us a bit to grasp the obvious, but eventually someone pointed at the docks and noted that they were now underwater. Had they been underwater before? While we stood stupidly staring at the docks, the water kept rising. I think awareness didn’t fully come to us until several people in the crowd were literally standing in water. At that point – finally – we began to back away. Once that motion began, it seemed to be automatically communicated to everyone in the park, and the crowd began moving quicker and quicker. A few people panicked and did a full-out sprint for higher ground, but most of us just walked across the lawn, back towards the streets of the island. We moved through the corporate tents, and while a few people ducked inside to grab this or that, most of us moved on past, abandoning whatever commercial goods were inside. We still did not know what was going on, but we were bright enough to know this was not the time to worry about a stack of polo shirts or a few bottles of wine.

  As the mass of people moved away from the river, families pulled kids even closer, many making the kids link hands. One father tried to make it a game, telling his kids, “I bet I can beat you back to the car.” He then jogged with them across the park attempting a laugh as he ran. The kids played along, and even laughed with them, but by now there were more and more people who had lost all restraint and were running wildly back to their cars. Pretending this was all normal play was getting harder and harder for parents.

  So far there was no bumping or pushing. The park had not been overly crowded for this event and there were lots of pathways through the corporate tents, and lots of ways through the park to the parking lots and streets. A few people even helped those with babies and strollers. We were still on our best behavior.

  Once we were through the last of the tents, I even stopped to look back at the river. The water was already in the first of the tents. I saw a few folding chairs lifted up by the water, and then carried away. A large tent began leaning to one side as the river took out its supporting poles. I think that’s when I began to get nervous. Seeing the river actually grab things in the park, turned this all from a potential danger to a real and current danger. We needed to get higher fast.

  Elise and I held hands and picked up the pace. She got out her phone and called back to the mansion. The instant Gabrielle picked up, Elise said simply, “The river is flooding the island. Get off the island now. Do no pack anything. You do not have time. Get off the island now.” She listened for a response and then added, “Do not worry about that, it cannot be helped. You and Jean are more important. Get off the island. Please do it now.” She listened for another response and seemed to accept whatever she heard.

  Her next call was to Gustav. The minute he picked up, he started explaining what he was doing. Elise cut him off. "No, don't try to get the car down here. It will just be locked in. Can you get back up to the house to help Gabrielle and Jean?" Long pause while she listened. "I understand what you have been ordered to do. I want you to disobey those orders and do what's right. Shawn and I will be fine. We are already halfway to the bridge. Gabrielle and Jean will need your help. They are far too old to be rushing off this island, and we can't get to them in time. Please help them." She listened a bit longer and then hung up.

  "He saw the problem before we did and was already getting the car for us." She told me. He's a few blocks north of here. I sent him for Gabrielle and Jean."

  "Good idea."

  Meanwhile, as we walked, we came up on a woman who was trying to push a stroller through the grass. She was moving, but much too slowly. I picked up the stroller and just kept walking. Elise took the woman’s hand. “It’s only four blocks to the Main Street Bridge. Once we get there, we can put the stroller down, and it will roll easily over the bridge.”

  “I have a car in the parking lot,” she replied.

  “I doubt any car will get off this island,” I said. “They will jam up at the first traffic light. But it’s a short walk. We just get to the bridge and walk across to Illinois.” I made it sound simple. I hoped it would be. I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder and saw two tents go down. The water was still on the lower half of the park, but it was coming up fast. Several more people broke into a run, and it was really hard not to follow suit.

  “My car is right there,” the woman said. Elise pointed up the street. Cars were already backed up, waiting to get onto Main Street and the bridge. We saw one family get out of their car and run for the bridge. That settled it. All the cars on that street were now locked in. Before we even got to the edge of the park, we saw the rest of the drivers abandon their cars and start running for the bridge.

  We kept moving at a steady pace. The kid I had picked up was about two and weighed little. And the stroller was just aluminum and fabric, so there was no struggle carrying him. My real struggle was not looking back. It was so hard not to. The park had a slope to it, so I assumed it would take at least some time before the river reached its highest point, but as we walked up the first street, I could see little slope in the final three blocks before the bridge. When the water hit here, it would rise fast, covering all three blocks in an instant. We started walking faster.

  Elise, meanwhile, was calming the woman (and me and anyone else within earshot) by asking about the little boy (“Louis”) and how he liked the park, and the usual trivia you talk about on days when you aren’t thinking you might drown in the next five minutes.

  There were others on the street, some ahead of us, a few behind, all walking toward the bridge. A few were talking insistently on their phones as they walked. A couple men banged on doors as they went, shouting at occupants to get out now. It appeared most residents of the street had heard or seen something and were already gone, but there were two doors that opened to people who had questions. I saw one couple start to say something, but then they saw all of us on the street, looked over our heads at the water rising across the park, and suddenly they were in the str
eet with us.

  I wondered why there was not a warning siren going off, but then realized sirens here signal tornado warnings. If people thought a tornado was coming and went down to their basements for shelter, they would drown there. How else could people be warned? Maybe the message was going out on TV and radio. Maybe.

  Meanwhile, we were making progress, but we were still a block from Main Street and the bridge when I saw water in the gutter. I thought my heart would stop. Was now the time to start running? Elise saw it too, and we walked faster.

  At the corner, we got to the scene I had feared. Main Street traffic was locked in place. All the cars had been abandoned. People streamed through the cars and towards the bridges. Now there was some pushing and some yelling. People filled the sidewalks and all the empty places in the street. The abandoned cars made ongoing barriers to all the pedestrians. There were two bridges off the island, one east to Illinois, and one west to Missouri. We were much closer to the Illinois bridge, but I looked to the west just to be sure the crowding was not different in that direction. All I could see was lots of people moving in every direction. East would have to do. We decided to stay on the sidewalk and merge with the crowd.

  It was frustrating moving at the pace of the crowd. We were close to the bridge now, and the crowd was moving, but moving slowly. A few people lost patience and pushed their way through. I got hit hard in the back by one young man who was running for the bridge and lost his balance tripping over something. All he said was “Get out of the way,” and then he was off again, pushing through more people.

  My stroller took up extra room as I carried it, and I considered taking the child from it, but where would I do it, and what would I do with the damn thing once I had the kid out of it? So we just kept walking.

  There was a murmur in the crowd when the water reached Main Street. We could not see it because of all the people, but we could feel it, and we could hear the splashing of a thousand people walking through water. I think what saved us from complete panic was the sight of so many other people walking up the bridge. The damn cars were in the way all across the bridge, but thousands of people were working their way around the cars and over the bridge. There really was safety ahead.

  And then we were on the bridge too. The bridge rose enough that we only needed to take three or four steps and suddenly our feet were dry. I can’t tell you how good that felt. We kept walking, slowly climbing. I looked over my shoulder at one point and saw that almost everyone had made it to the bridge and was climbing behind us, all moving steadily up the incline. There was one young man who was trying to run along Main Street, in water that was now knee high. I have no idea what happened to him.

  About the middle of the bridge we passed the last of the stalled cars. Now suddenly we could not only spread out, but we could move faster without worrying about pushing or being pushed. I set the stroller down and the boy’s mother took over pushing him. We stayed near by in case she needed help again, but she seemed comfortable and capable.

  At one point I have to admit my curiosity got the better of me, and I stopped to take a good look at what was going on. I stepped out of the path of all the others crossing the bridge, stood by the edge of the bridge and looked back. I saw the beast. I had thought the water was rising, after all, the bridge below had become a huge damn, but I had not seen this was not just a matter of water changing elevation. It was changing character. Always muddy, now it was deeper brown and churning. It seemed to throw itself at the new damn, then slide along it, pushing all the way to the Missouri side looking for an opening, and when it could not find it, it charged back at the island.

  The island looked like it was being chewed up. The beast came up the Missouri side and threw itself at everything on the island. Our tents were long gone, as were all the cars in the parking lot. The first block of houses was being battered by the river, and while I watched I saw one of them collapse. That just gave the river more missiles to throw at the next house and the next block. More water came, higher and harder, throwing torrents into the air whenever it met an obstacle. There were waves, there were whirlpools, there was churning and battering. The beast was angry, and it was beating the island to death.

  And then our bridge moved. It felt a little like an elevator sometimes does if it misses a floor by an inch or two and then recovers itself. Just an inch, just a bit of a jog. But everyone knew what it meant. Instantly there were screams from thousands of people and a mad dash to get to the Illinois side. Fear took everyone. Everyone who could run, ran as fast as they could, and if anyone got in the way, well, they were pushed out of the way. Had we all still been in the part of the bridge where cars took up much of the road and people had to crowd between them, I think there would have been deaths from trampling. As it was, even with the extra space, a number of people were knocked down. The mother from the park was one of them.

  Elise and I picked her up, righted the stroller, tried to calm Louis, but got them moving as fast as we could. Our path was downhill, our path was cleared as all the faster people quickly made it off the bridge, our job was to cover the last fifty yards before the bridge collapsed. I pushed the stroller with one hand and put a hand around the arm of the mother. Elise took her other arm, and we jogged together down to Illinois. With ten yards to go we felt the bridge move one more time, a bit of a shift to the right. It almost knocked us off balance, but we stayed on our feet. We made it. So did everyone else I had seen on the bridge.

  How much time did we have to spare? I wasn’t timing it, but it had to be less than five minutes. This bridge collapsed straight down. The island end went first, when the supports washed away. That end dropped down into the river, and then this end went. There was a huge splash, and even more turbulence in the water, and then the bridge disappeared beneath the rising waters.

  We didn’t stand and watch. We kept walking down the bridge approach, away from the river. We must have traveled at least a hundred yards from the water before any of us felt brave enough to look back. As we turned we saw the bridge on the far side of the island also go down, and then one of the taller office buildings on the island, six floors of glass and steel leaned farther and farther to the south and fell. A few buildings on the island were still partially above water, but most seemed to either have submerged or been destroyed. It was getting harder and harder to even see where the island had been. Where once there had been homes and offices, now there was just swirling water and a few rooftops. Kaskaskia Island was gone.