L1课文电子版FacetoFacewithHurricaneCamille
Face to Face with Hurricane Camille
Joseph P. Blank
John Koshak, Jr., knew that Hurricane Camille would be bad. Radio and television warnings had sounded throughout that Sunday, last August 17, as Camille lashed northwestward across the Gulf of Mexico. It was certain to pummel Gulfport, Miss., where the Koshers lived. Along the coasts of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, nearly 150,000 people fled inland to safer ground. But, like thousands of others in the coastal communities, john was reluctant to abandon his home unless the family -- his wife, Janis, and their seven children, abed 3 to 11 -- was clearly endangered.
Trying to reason out the best course of action, he talked with his father and mother, who had moved into the ten-room house with the Koshaks a month earlier from California. He also consulted Charles Hill, a long time friend, who had driven from Las Vegas for a visit.
John, 37 -- whose business was right there in his home ( he designed and developed educational toys and supplies, and all of Magna Products' correspondence, engineering drawings and art work were there on the first floor) -- was familiar with the power of a hurricane. Four years earlier, Hurricane Betsy had demolished undefined his former home a few miles west of Gulfport (Koshak had moved his family to a motel for the night). But that house had stood only a few feet above sea level. "We' re elevated 23 feet," he told his father, "and we' re a good 250 yards from the sea. The place has been here since 1915, and no hurricane has ever bothered it. We' II probably be as safe here as anyplace else."
The elder Koshak, a gruff, warmhearted expert machinist of 67, agreed. "We can batten down and ride it out," he said. "If we see signs of danger, we can get out before dark."
shudderThe men methodically prepared for the hurricane. Since water mains might be damaged, they filled bathtubs and pails. A power failure was likely, so they checked out batteries for the portable radio and flashlights, and fuel for the lantern. John's father moved a small ge
nerator into the downstairs hallway, wired several light bulbs to it and prepared a connection to the refrigerator.
Rain fell steadily that afternoon; gray clouds scudded in from the Gulf on the rising wind. The family had an early supper. A neighbor, whose husband was in Vietnam, asked if she and her two children could sit out the storm with the Koshaks. Another neighbor came by on his way in-land — would the Koshaks mind taking care of his dog?
It grew dark before seven o' clock. Wind and rain now whipped the house. John sent his oldest son and daughter upstairs to bring down mattresses and pillows for the younger children. He wanted to keep the group together on one floor. "Stay away from the windows," he warned, concerned about glass flying from storm-shattered panes. As the wind mounted to a roar, the house began leaking- the rain seemingly driven right through the walls. With mops, towels, pots and buckets the Koshaks began a struggle against the rapidly spreading water. At 8:30, power failed, and Pop Koshak turned on the generator.
The roar of the hurricane now was overwhelming. The house shook, and the ceiling in the
living room was falling piece by piece. The French doors in an upstairs room blew in with an explosive sound, and the group heard gun-like reports as other upstairs windows disintegrated. Water rose above their ankles.
Then the front door started to break away from its frame. John and Charlie put their shoulders against it, but a blast of water hit the house, flinging open the door and shoving them
down the hall. The generator was doused, and the lights went out. Charlie licked his lips and shouted to John. "I think we' re in real trouble. That water tasted salty." The sea had reached the house, and the water was rising by the minute!
"Everybody out the back door to the cars!" John yelled. "We' II pass the children along between us. Count them! Nine!"
The children went from adult to adult like buckets in a fire brigade. But the cars wouldn't start; the electrical systems had been killed by water. The wind was too Strong and the w
ater too deep to flee on foot. "Back to the house!" john yelled. "Count the children! Count nine!"
As they scrambled back, john ordered, "Every-body on the stairs!" Frightened, breathless and wet, the group settled on the stairs, which were protected by two interiorwalls. The children put the cat, Spooky, and a box with her four kittens on the landing. She peered nervously at her litter. The neighbor's dog curled up and went to sleep.
The wind sounded like the roar of a train passing a few yards away. The house shuddered and shifted on its foundations. Water inched its way up the steps as first- floor outside walls collapsed. No one spoke. Everyone knew there was no escape; they would live or die in the house.

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