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While millions of Americans fled, one man stayed behind to meet the storm head-on, writes Toby Harnden in Port Arthur, Texas SHE CAME at us with a low, distant rumble. And then with a roar. Hurricane Rita was fast approaching the Texas coast - and for Mark Sudduth, it was almost pure joy. "Holy cow,'' he shouted as the wind picked up. "Wind speed 108mph. Oh my goodness, that's incredible. It's like War of the Worlds out there.'' We were in his Hurricane Intercept Research Team headquarters, a souped-up Chevrolet Tahoe land cruiser with all sorts of gizmos protruding from the roof, perched on the top of a creaking, 100ft high bridge overlooking Port Arthur on the Texas coast. The Tahoe was being buffeted from side to side while green flashes from exploding electricity transformers filled the darkness. This was what the American news networks billed as the "ground zero'' of Hurricane Rita. Mr Sudduth had defied warnings from state authorities to evacuate or face no hope of rescue in an emergency. The few eccentric or witless residents who remained in the town were safely indoors. "Will we get blown off?'' Mr Sudduth asked, pausing to consider his own question. "No, not at all. The Tahoe is too heavy a vehicle. If we stay in here, nothing is going to hurt us.'' At this point, he got out of it. "Hand me the scuba housing for my camera, will you?'' he shouted, his voice all but obliterated by the storm raging around him. "I want to get a little shot of this from the bridge here.'' When millions of other Americans flee from a hurricane and 50-mile long lines of traffic grind to a halt, Mr Sudduth, in his mid-30s, is the man who speeds in the opposite direction. Fascinated by hurricanes as a boy in North Carolina, he decided to chase them for a living. He could barely stand upright on the bridge, but after several minutes he returned, drenched but exhilarated. "Look at those sheets of rain,'' he said. "They're like shadows coming up the road. Don't worry. This is all about knowing what you're doing and not getting freaked out by things.'' Inside his vehicle, Mr Sudduth had set up a laptop computer, logged on to his website, hurricanetrack.com - showing streaming video from the cameras he has placed in the area Hurricane Rita is due to hit. There is a video camera on the dashboard so that subscribers can watch his progress through the storm. He filmed, checked his e-mails, then took a call from his wife. "It's just like Baghdad up here,'' he told her. "You know, it's got that look.'' It was as if Mr Sudduth could not bear to leave. Eventually, he agreed to drive on. "This is it, it's happening, man. There is something very ethereal about this,'' he said. "Okay, let's get rolling.'' We zipped through the deserted town. Power lines were already down and the wind was ripping sheet metal from the sides of buildings. The rain cascaded against the windscreen so hard it was almost impossible to see. As the night wore on, back at Port Arthur's Holiday Inn, the electricity was cut and the water began to rise. The main fire alarm sounded, a piercing, relentless wail, and petrified evacuees who had been camping in the lobby scrambled for the main staircase, the solid, concrete core of the 160-room building. The main doors had blown through and debris was flying around. Outside, a beech tree was bent almost horizontal, first one way and then the next, its leaves stripped off by the wind. Rain lashed against the plate glass window and then seemed to punch the pane, threatening to pop it like a finger through tracing paper. "Lord have mercy,'' said an elderly, toothless, black man clutching a Chihuahua as he tramped up the stairs. "This must be divine retribution for something bad somebody has done.'' A Texas state police officer with a miner's lamp strapped to his head marshalled his men in the lobby, but going out into the darkness would have been suicide. "There ain't nothing we can do about it,'' he said. "Just got to take what she throws at us and then pick up the pieces later.'' Others were more sanguine. Tom Bass, 41, remained behind with his mother and grandmother. "It's only a category three, man,'' he said. "That's what that sea wall there is built for. They always tell us to evacuate for a hurricane and it don't never hit.'' Rita did hit, though her fury was less destructive than expected. Soon after she crossed the coast near Port Arthur, just before dawn yesterday, she was downgraded - first to a Category Two hurricane, later to a mere Category One. As the wind eased and it was possible to venture outside, a markedly altered Port Arthur emerged - suffering from major flooding, with most of the town accessible only by boat. On the main road into the town trees, lampposts and power lines had been blown down. Vehicles were upturned, or abandoned, after being hit by debris and dead birds littered the kerb. By late yesterday Mr Sudduth expected to be back out, retrieving his remote cameras - including the video recorder inside a heavy-duty plastic suitcase that he had padlocked to metal stanchion on Pleasure Island, the far side of the bridge where we had parked. On the side of his Tahoe he had fixed a symbol for each of the 11 hurricanes the vehicle had survived, starting with Henri in 2003. He lost a vehicle during Ivan last year, and - after more than a decade in the business - has had moments when he thought he was going to die. "You have to respect a hurricane,'' he said "They have such power that they can force a million people to evacuate. We name them, so they become personal. People paint slogans like, 'Go away Rita'. When they arrive it's amazing. They kill people and they destroy property. I don't like it, but that's part of it. I want to see what it takes to do that.'' At sweep of an airbrush, embarrassing yearbook photos become history By TOBY HARNDEN in Washington THE HIGH school yearbook, traditionally a monument to geekdom and a source of lifelong embarrassment for pimply teenagers, is undergoing a professional makeover - complete with airbrushing, digitally enhanced muscles and even fake sweat. American parents are now prepared to spend as much as $2,000 ( pounds 1,100) on professional photographic shoots to portray their children in the best possible light. Blazers, side partings, freckles and braces are being consigned to history. In their place come rippling torsos and bikini poses, the result of modelling sessions that can last three hours or more. "We can make them thinner and we can make their muscles bigger,'' said Rick Krebsbach, who photographs children for yearbooks in Iowa. "We do a few things without telling them, like remove a bulge or bump, or slim them down. We like them to feel good about themselves.'' Pupils appear with imaginative props. Mr Krebsbach remembers "a whole laundry basket full of flip flops'', stacks of DVDs, boom boxes, a tractor and even a sword collection. "In the past two or three years, it has really gone hog wild,'' he said. "You name it, they bring it.'' Brooke Tamisiea, 17, was delighted with her shoot, directed by Mr Krebsbach. "The cool thing about some of the outside ones is I live on a lake and I got into the lake with my jeans on,'' she said. "Some of the positions I had to be in felt real awkward, like laying across a table. In some pictures I had a fan blowing in my hair. A few of my friends did their shoots in swimsuits and a lot of my guy friends did it without shirts.'' Cindy Glover, 41, said her son Austin, 17, spent a year working out in the gym and selecting his outfits in readiness for his session with Mr Krebsbach. "In my day, I wore a wool blazer and there were two pictures - one in the blazer and one standing by a tree,'' she said. "It was just boring and it didn't say anything about me. "Now, times have changed. Everybody is so much more confident with themselves and their bodies. They feel much more free to express themselves.'' The $700 cost, she thought, had been "real worth it''. Although many schools still require a traditional head-and-shoulders picture and hire a contract photographer to ensure uniform images, increasingly schools are prepared to grant children greater self-expression. A bad yearbook photograph is often seen as a catastrophe. In June, one New York mother, Michelle Maihepat, called for all 200 yearbooks at her "distraught'' daughter's school to be pulped because it used what they considered to be a deeply unflattering image of a pale, unsmiling Asheana, 11. The embarrassing image, she told television interviewers after the case hit the headlines, would haunt her child for the rest of her life. Because Asheana was ill the day class pictures were taken, the school in Queens used a picture taken by a student photographer. "If you look at all the rest of the photos in the book, hers just stands out and it's sad to see it that way,'' said Mrs Maihepat. Larry Peters, who has photographed high school students in London, Ohio, for more than 30 years, said that more often than not, the pupils wanted to stand out. "We're constantly pushing the envelope to become more creative. We'll do just about anything that is legal as far as clothes go.'' His studio sets include a barn, a New England porch and a Caribbean island. A typical shoot might last three hours and involve 10 changes of clothes. He sometimes uses a spray bottle of fake sweat "to make it look like they're working out''. Including extra prints, the cost can top $2,000. Mr Peters has photographed pupils with boa constrictors, tarantulas, pigs and pet chickens. One girl posed with 125 pairs of shoes and another with stacks of romantic novels. Mr Krebsbach said he was careful not to overstep the bounds of taste and that a parent or friend was present throughout. "This is still small-town USA so we don't want anything too tacky. There's a line we don't cross.'' The only stipulation Austin Glover made about his shoot was that a tattoo on his back would not be visible. According to his mother, since the publication of the pictures he had received a lot more attention from girls. "Everyone who sees them thinks he's just awesome,'' she said. It is, of course, entirely possible that in years to come he will look back and squirm in embarrassment. What seemed the height of cool to a 17-year-old may come across rather differently in middle age. Mr Peters, for one, said that while he enjoyed the creative challenge of the new-style photography, he had a confession to make. "I still quite like that traditional, classic image for the yearbook.'' The private thoughts of Chief Justice Roberts HE HAS lambasted Michael Jackson for his "androgynous lifestyle'' and dismissed a Girl Scout as a "little huckster''. For him, co-education meant boys being distracted by the "giggling and blushing'' of blondes. But so little is known about what John Roberts thinks about the great issues of the age that a third of the Senate is likely to vote against him as chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, even though everyone agrees he has a brilliant legal mind. Among those who have announced that they will oppose him is Sen Hillary Clinton, who said his lack of "clarity and specificity'' made him too dangerous a choice - a move that could undermine her planned presidential bid by alienating centrist voters. At just 50, Mr Roberts is poised to become the youngest Supreme Court chief justice for 200 years. If, as expected, he is confirmed by the full 100-member Senate this week, he is likely to serve for more than three decades and to shape key aspects of American life for much of the 21st century. His predecessor and mentor, Chief Justice William Rehnquist, who died at 80 this month, spent 33 years on the court - during which period it ruled on issues ranging from abortion and the right to burn the American flag to the outcome of the 2000 election. In a consummate performance during hearings before the Senate judiciary committee, Mr Roberts avoided stating any political opinions and was as charming as he was frustratingly well-prepared. Once confirmed, he cannot be dismissed and his court - deciding cases by a vote of its nine judges - will have the power to overrule the White House and Congress combined. The few insights into the real John Roberts, the son of a steel plant manager who grew up in conservative Indiana, were gleaned from 38,000 documents released before his confirmation hearings. As a bright, young Harvard-educated lawyer in President Ronald Reagan's administration, he was called on to advise whether the reclusive Jackson should be given a special White House award. "If one wants the youth of America and the world sashaying around in garish sequined costumes, hair dripping with pomade, body shot full of female hormones to prevent voice change, mono-gloved, well, then, I suppose 'Michael' as he is affectionately known in the trade, is in fact a good example,'' he wrote acidly in 1984. "Quite apart from the problem of appearing to endorse Jackson's androgynous lifestyle, a presidential award would be perceived as a shallow effort by the President to share in the constant publicity surrounding Jackson.'' Senators learnt that the youthful, clean-cut appeals court judge had been disparaging about Elizabeth Brinton, a Girl Scout of 14 who had wanted to sell cookies to Mr Reagan in 1985. The "little huckster'', Mr Roberts wrote, had already sold 10,000 boxes and wanted to palm one off on the president. But he did give the request the legal green light. He also suggested that Bob Jones, a fundamentalist Christian supporter of Mr Reagan, should be told to "go soak his head'' for demanding a favour. Liberal activist groups determined to block Mr Roberts on the grounds that he is allegedly anti-women and anti-abortion, delved even deeper into his past. When he was 17, it was discovered, he had opposed mixed sex schooling. "The presence of the opposite sex in the classroom will be confining rather than catholicising,'' he opined as a precocious youth. "I would prefer to discuss Shakespearean double entendre and the latus rectum of conic sections without a blonde giggling and blushing behind me.'' During his days at an all-boys school in Indiana he appeared in drag as Peppermint Patty in the school production of You're a Good Man Charlie Brown. He also spoke passionately against the introduction of bunk beds. Single beds, he said, were aesthetically superior and had historical value. In fact, he wanted to help friends who smoked and liked the single beds because cigarette butts could be dropped into the hollow bedposts. Yet the smoking gun on abortion proved elusive. Mr Roberts, a Roman Catholic who married at 41, has two adopted children and his wife Jane is a leading member of Feminists for Life, an anti-abortion group. He gave no hint, however, whether or not he would overturn the 1973 Roe versus Wade landmark case, which established the right to an abortion - and which Mr Rehnquist unsuccessfully opposed. In a 1990 brief, he wrote that the case was "wrongly decided'' and an example of "judicial excesses'', but he told senators that he had argued both sides of many issues merely as an advocate for his clients. A Harvard contemporary of Mr Roberts, revealed that he had "hated'' Helen Reddy's 1972 song I Am Woman, but even this shocking disclosure did not scupper him. President George W Bush, however, is acutely aware that the stakes will be even higher for his second nominee, due to be announced within 10 days. Democrats are already preparing for a bitter fight. Whoever he proposes to replace the centrist Sandra Day O'Connor, who is about to retire, will have to defend more than their views on Michael Jackson.
Fight for survival ... By TOBY HARNDEN in Phoenix, Louisiana ON the edge of the bayou beyond New Orleans, two marauding pit bulls emerged from the swamp as the flood receded last week. Bred as fighting dogs, their bloodlust was sharpened by starvation after surviving in the swirling waters for more than two weeks. The two beasts, a bitch and a dog, were both wearing collars. They crept close to the levee, the barrier over which the Mississippi had swept during Hurricane Katrina, as US Army engineers worked to rebuild the flood defences. Thankfully, the prey they identified was not a human but a lone bull, more than 10 times their combined weight. Acting like a wrestling tag team, the pair attacked the bull with an awesome ferocity. They took turns to launch themselves at the bull's head, latching their jaws onto its muzzle. The attack highlighted the concern expressed by the American military that pit bulls, commonly used in illegal dog fights in Louisiana, were forming into packs and could attack or even kill soldiers. An estimated 30,000 pets have been left abandoned in the New Orleans area. Many of them have been evacuated by animal rescue volunteers and are due to be adopted across the United States. Pit bulls, however, will be destroyed rather than taken out of Louisiana. During the attack, close to the hurricane-decimated village of Phoenix, the distressed bull would shake off the dogs hanging from its head, flinging them up to 15 feet in the air. But each time they returned, slowly exhausting the larger animal, which was smeared with blood. As one dog tired, the other would take over and leap up with its teeth bared. At one point, the bull trampled the bitch, briefly dazing it. The male dog, however, attacked with a renewed viciousness, holding the bull at bay until its partner recovered. Only the snorts of the bull and the grunts of the dogs could be heard as the life and death struggle continued. Despite the pounding the dogs were taking as they were flipped up and landed heavily on the ground, it was clear they were gradually overcoming the stricken bull until it spotted "The Sunday Telegraph" Land Cruiser on the road between the bayou and the levee. The bull moved towards the vehicle, as if requesting help from another large animal. It was clearly too dangerous for any unarmed person to intervene but a passing truck from the US Army's New Mexico National Guard was flagged down. After observing what was happening for a few moments, one soldier raised his M-16 and shot a bullet that hit the bitch in the top of the head, killing it instantly. Rather than flee, the dog paused only briefly as it prepared to attack the bull again. The truck drove closer and the soldier shot the dog in the side. It rolled over, panting, still looking up at the bull. "Hold still," shouted the soldier, before finishing the dog off with a third shot. Within the bayou, alligators lurk. The carcasses of huge sturgeon lie baking on the levee. Thousands of dead snakes, displaced by the flood, were left piled up after the live ones slithered away. In a place where the natural order had been profoundly disturbed by the hurricane, however, it is perhaps roaming pit bulls, trained by humans but now returned to the wild, that present the greatest immediate threat. Overwhelmed pet centre 'like Superdome for animals' By TOBY HARNDEN in Gonzales, Louisiana THOUSANDS of stricken pets rescued from the streets of New Orleans are being kept crated in cramped, humid and unsanitary conditions with minimal exercise and could die unless they are re-homed swiftly, animal volunteers have warned. Dog lovers who travelled from across the United States to save animals abandoned as their owners fled the Big Easy believed that once the traumatised beasts were out of the city their ordeal would be over. But the situation at the main rescue collection centre in Gonzales, some 40 miles west of New Orleans, is only adding to their distress. Staff there have been overwhelmed by the influx of animals, hundreds of which are turned away each day and left to an uncertain fate. "These animals are barely surviving," said Katie Flood, 23, a volunteer from Ohio who was close to tears. "I had a kid asking me what to with the bodies of the dogs that had died in their cages. "This place has become like the Superdome in New Orleans was for humans. It is all red tape and a bureaucratic mess. Animals aren't being moved out quickly enough even though there are people all over America willing to take them." About 5,000 dogs were being kept at the Lamar Dixon Expo Centre in Gonzales last week, along with a few hundred cats, some horses and a handful of pigs and goats. Many of the dogs were lying in their own faeces and were being walked once every 24 hours at best. Despite the best efforts of the volunteers, it was clear some dogs, already scared and malnourished, were suffering. "These dogs are going to start dying shortly because they can't be kept in these conditions," said Linda Stoltz, of the American Rottweiller Association, who was trying to take out dozens of Rottweilers. "It doesn't matter how many volunteers there are, if they are not moved on you will start having rampant disease." Volunteers said there were disputes among managers about how long dogs should be held at the centre. Some senior figures were insisting dogs had to be kept there for 15 days before being released to go to foster homes. After 30 days with foster owners, the dogs could be adopted permanently. "But the reality is most of the original owners will never come back to get their dogs," said Miss Flood. "We have to be realistic and start putting the animals first. A few owners arrive each day to look for their lost pets but most leave disappointed. "There was a little Shitsu called Honey Bunny who had a tag with his name on when he arrived," said Lisa Shriver, 24, also from Ohio. "Then his owners came here to get him. "They walked around for four but could not find him. He was lost in the system. None of the pets are being photographed or micro-chipped when they arrive." Michelle Schexnayder, 29, from New Orleans, was searching for her four boxers, Liitle Bit and Little Bro and their puppies Patches and Jake. She had waded through the flood waters with the puppies until she gashed her leg and was evacuated to hospital. Her friend carried on with the puppies but was forced to leave them at gunpoint because no animals were allowed on the rescue buses. "it rips my heart out to come here each day," said Miss Shexnayder. "I have no kids and no husband and these animals are everything to me. They're my children. I lost my house and everything in it but that doesn't matter if I can get my babies back." In the meantime, hundreds of dogs remain in abandoned houses in New Orleans or are wandering the streets in search of food.
Threatened with eviction at gunpoint, the Big Easy holdouts are now hailed as heroes In a remarkable official U-turn, those who stayed are said to represent the spirit of the city BY TOBY HARNDEN in New Orleans JUST DAYS since they were being urged, sometimes at gunpoint, to leave their homes, the hardy band of residents who sat tight in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina are now being encouraged to stay put and help to restart the city. In a remarkable U-turn, the authorities - who had previously reviled, goaded and even threatened force against the few hundred remaining "holdouts'' - are hailing them as examples of the indomitable spirit needed to rebuild the "Big Easy''. The United States Army has begun helping them to stay, rather than persuading them to get out. "They are people who have spent most of their lives right here and they can't imagine anything else,'' said Major Keith Ensley, a US National Guard officer. "Now the mayor has indicated they can stay, we're offering them a little more help - water and food as needed. They've been real co-operative.'' A marked change of mood has swept the city and its officials since President George W Bush promised last week to rebuild New Orleans with federal funds. The mayor, Ray Nagin. is urging businesses to return to the city he recently declared a no-go zone. With the flood waters receding faster than anyone thought possible, the holdouts will now be joined over the next week by up to 180,000 of those who fled or were rescued from the hurricane, and are now being enticed back. With hundreds of decomposing corpses - thanks to the reopening of the port and airport - finally removed, laboratory tests have found sewage and oil left behind by the filthy water, but no contagious diseases. The worst predictions about the city's demise have been set aside. President Bush's contrite pledge appears to have guaranteed the future of New Orleans in some form. Now property speculators have moved in, buying up flood-ravaged houses in anticipation of a possible real estate boom. "We survived!'' said a triumphant Mica Rosenberg, 72, standing among the potted plants on her wooden porch in the old Bywater district. "We went to hell and back, but the only way they were going to take me out was in a bag,'' she said. She and her son Lazaro, 36, a dealer in a casino, had stayed in their home without water or electricity, existing on stores of tinned food and bottled water. "The helicopters swooped down low to try and blow us out. The police got real ugly, telling us to grab our stuff and go. "But yesterday, the National Guard came around with a box of apples and said they were full of admiration for the way we stood our ground. One sergeant told me we had showed others what was possible for the city and its future.'' Now, she said, there was a chance to start afresh in New Orleans without "the hoodlums and dopes and robbers that infested this place like fleas on a dead cat''. Clyde Casey, 43, an artist who stayed behind, said: "It felt like the Gestapo was coming in. The government tried to punish us for being prepared when they hadn't been.'' When Mr Bush first arrived to see the devastation, much of the small area of the city that remained above water was sealed off. "The police jumped on me and told me to get out of town,'' said Mr Casey. "One put a Magnum against my head while another punched me and stamped on my glasses. I felt the presence of an almighty egotistical force that was really scaring the bejeebees out of people who had the legal right to be here. Today, I'm just one of the people here ready to rebuild.'' Even in the worst hit parts of New Orleans and the outlying bayous and fishing villages of Louisiana, people were returning to the remnants of their homes last week and vowing to start again. Darrell Domingue, 44, was using a chainsaw to clear branches and loading a few salvaged possessions from his home near Pointe de la Hache, which had been filled with more than 15 feet of water. A neighbouring mobile home had slammed against one side of the house, his carport had disappeared and a huge bale of hay had smashed through the back. As Mr Domingue surveyed the property he pointed out toys from his 10-year-old daughter's bedroom spilling out of a hole in the roof - dolls, an upside down Minnie Mouse and a contorted Gonzo from the Muppets. A 35ft tidal surge had hit the house when it swept over the levee about 20 yards away. His parents' home, in which he had survived Hurricane Betsy as a boy of four, was swept half a mile up the road. His father-in-law's metal coffin, in which he had been buried a month before the storm, was washed from its vault at the St Thomas the Apostle graveyard, which had been under several feet of water. Mr Domingue shook his head. "I don't know how to tell my wife he isn't there any more. "I haven't shed a tear yet and neither has she. I couldn't imagine this was possible, but what can you do about it? You rebuild and you move on.'' At what was once the fishing village of Ycloskey, tales of miraculous escapes have entered local lore. Nephus "Fats'' Wilson, a Pointe de la Hache oysterman, rode out the storm in a boat called Tide and emerged from the woods four days later with a full bottle of whisky in his hands. Back in New Orleans, volunteers dispensed vegetarian food and power bars to Mrs Rosenberg and her son. "We're just trying to cheer people up and lend a hand,'' said Randall Amster, 39. "There's no place in the world like this. The energy here, the full-on, crazy, in-the-moment vibe never left. That is what will bring people back.''
Widow, 85, waited for rescue but prepared for death By Toby Harnden in New Orleans WHEN the order to evacuate New Orleans was issued, Clothilde Mack stayed put to look after her three cats, surrogates for the children she never had. Aged 85, she had lived for more than half her life a beige, clapboard house at 2006 Clouet Street in the Crescent City's Bywayer district. She had sat out big storms before, she reasoned, and Hurricane Katrina would be no different. But as the waters rose close to the ceiling of the ground floor and her neighbours fled or drowned, she frantically used her mobile phone to call the emergency 911 number repeatedly. She got through three times. On the last occasion, she gave her address and said: "I know I am going to die here." The female operator, choking back tears, replied: "Ma'am, I sincerely hope that is not going to happen." Ten days later, a US Air Force Black Hawk helicopter hovered over Clouet Street, it rotor blades sending ripples through the toxic, fetid water that still reached chest height in the street. Minutes earlier, there had been no sound save the eerie beeping of electrical appliances in the abandoned houses and the distant bark of a dying dog chained to a porch. Mrs Mack, a widow since her husband Daniel died in 1969, had been alone for nine days. A niece, it seems, had altered the authorities that she was missing and eventually the house was checked. Three members of the Oregon National Guard commandeered a tiny boat and, using oars borrowed from "The Sunday Telegraph", glided down Cloret Street. The soldiers had not been issued with fisherman's waders so the newspaper's correspondent, who was properly kitted out, was enlisted to push and guide the boat towards the house as the rank waters lapped around his rubber leggings. A few doors away from Mrs Mack's house, a bloated corpse lay beneath the surface in the mire. "After a few days, they sink," explained a sergeant. "Then they start bobbing up to the top again." Mrs Mack almost sang with joy when the rescue party arrived. "Thank the Lord for you all!" she exclaimed, was lying on her bed in a red floral pattern house coat. "I waited and waited but no one came to my door." Water was still ankle deep in the house and the stench enough to make one soldier retch. Mildewed portraits Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King and Malcolm X looked down on a scene of filth with shoes, books and clothes and a television- all ruined - strewn around the floor. "I haven't had a bath in 10 days," apologised Mrs Mack as she was lifted gingerly into a chair and then lowered slowly onto a stretcher in the boat. "I ddin't mean to cause you all this trouble. How did you know I was here?" She implored the soldiers to bring her cats. "I think they're still alive and in the attic." The cats could not be found but "The Sunday Telegraph managed to retrieve her wallet, some yellowing photographs she treasured and a diary she had kept sporadically throughout her nine-day ordeal. This account of her days, dreadfully uncomfortable and terrifying though they must have been, was remarkably practical and matter of fact - faithfully recording water levels and imparting useful information for those who might find her body. "Found my teeth floating and my bowel medicine," she began on Monday, the day of the devastating hurricane. "The water came up in this room. It stayed a couple of hours, then went down a little." On Day Two next day she reported: "Tues. It went back up some." By Day Three, she was very worried. "I don't have any drinking water," she wrote in her neat script. "This paper is damp....I have lost everything in the house. I don't know what damage on the outside but I am sure I have lost my car." She was right. Her cherished silver Chevrolet, in the garage, was totally submerged. The water level remained static on Day Four. "I don't know if my cats are still alive. One was until Wed morning but when I checked yesterday evening they can get in the attic from there. I put food and water up there for her. She ate a little." Clearly, she was contemplating her death. "If I'm not here when this is over will you please ask the SPCA will they please check my attic." By Day Five, the water was "down a little" and Mrs Mack was thinking about retrieving some of her sodden possessions. "I was trying to wait to see if it goes down some more before I get down in it. It is beginning to stink." The cat food she had put out had attracted flies and she was distressed that the storm meant she had "lost 15lbs of food and 20lbs of cat litter". She explained that she had three cats, one male and two female and that their hiding place might be difficult to find. "There is an opening to the attic in the wall by the bath room." On Day Six, the water level was still above her knees and the sweltering heat was taking its toll. "I have one window out [broken]. I don' know about the room back of the kitchen because the door is closed. It is so hot in the storage room I am going to make it to the room where the window is out." A frugal lady, Mrs Mack chose Day Seven to point out that she had insurance policies that would cover the car, if not the house. "I have two small insurance with Colonial Penn Life. Only fire insurance on the house and All State on the car. Card is in the car. The card here with my ID will take it anywhere to be repaired." Day Eight was a good day. "I saw my boy cat in the closet....I got to my refrigerator today. It was sealed tight but I took the hammer to it. I found 7 little bottles of water." Although her food was running out, the water was a major boost. She rationed herself to two bottles a day - just enough to stave off fatal dehydration. But Mrs Mack remained realistic. The 911 calls had brought no response and apparently no one knew she was there. On Day Nine there was no diary entry. Instead, she made her will, beginning with the words: "To my heirs." It was a simple bequest, leaving the house to one set of relatives and requesting that it be arranged to "give something to" another. Day 10 "was cooler, enough for me to stay here in the storage room". Again, what would happen to her beloved pets was on her mind. "My cats names are Mike - black male, Cindy - grey with plenty white, female. Jill, a little white female. She used to sleep with me every night. Male neutered at 6 months old. Females spayed at 3 months old." The next day brought salvation. The soldiers were triumphant. A previous search at the 1600 block of Elysian Fields had led to the discovery of a demented pet dog and the decomposing remains, sitting in an armchair, of the old lady who had owned it. Mrs Mack was driven by Humvee and army ambulance to a military field hospital at the city's Convention Centre, where she was given an IV drip and pronounced to be in remarkably good health. "She has to be the nicest patient you will treat in your entire life," Nurse Carrie Maxwell told the orderlies. "You will be in love with her." Mrs Mack beamed and wondered if she might perhaps be given some new false teeth. On what mercifully did not turn out to be Day Twelve for Mrs Mack, The Sunday Telegraph returned to her house with cat food and a basket. Alas, there were no signs of life in the attic
We did all that was possible to rescue citizens, say British diplomats By Toby Harnden in New Orleans British diplomats in the United States have rejected criticism that they were slow to assist UK citizens affected by Hurricane Katrina, describing how they tracked down dozens of people feared dead by their relatives. The officials said that they were hampered by American bureaucracy and the inadequacy of the US response to the disaster, but did all that was possible. They also added that they reacted quicker than any other European nation. One of the most satisfying moments of the round-the-clock operation to locate missing Britons came when Ryan Kittle, 24, was found in a village called Kiln. "He was just sitting on his porch in rural Mississippi when he saw this van with a Union Jack on the side," said Natalie Pawelski, one of two officials who ventured out in a marked consular vehicle. "Ryan's father was fearing the worst but he was able to speak to him on our satellite phone. He told a harrowing tale of how he had to flee up the stairs when water came flooding into his house." Barbara Gottbrath, 53, was found in the Gretna area of New Orleans. She had stayed behind to look after cats and dogs belonging to neighbours and survived the hurricane. At least two "GI brides" were also found safe by the diplomatic detectives, who also dispensed food and water. Four two-person consular teams, rotated every few days because of the punishing hours, have been scouring Louisiana and Mississippi since last Saturday, when it became apparent that the US authorities had lost control of events. The British embassy in Washington was first told that it was not needed at the Superdome in New Orleans because all evacuees would be transferred swiftly from there to Houston. But some British tourists were stranded there for days, next to rotting corpses and roaming gangs. "We had to take what the Americans were telling us about the Superdome," said Graeme Wise, the British consul in Washington and one of the searchers in New Orleans. "They said they were controlling the place and keeping people there safe. That's [now] open to debate of course." There were also safety concerns for the diplomats themselves in the immediate aftermath of the hurricane. Officials said they were anxious not to become "part of the problem" by rushing into a dangerous environment. The four teams started with a list of about 300 missing Britons. One by one, they have established the whereabouts of the vast majority. Helen Arbon, an Atlanta-based diplomat who has been searching in Mississippi and travelled 1,700 miles in a few days, said that taking flak for not doing enough was a "fact of life".
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