Boyd Morrison - The Tsunami Countdown

With over five hundred beds, The Queen’s Medical Center, located next to the Capitol building in downtown Honolulu, was the largest medical facility on the islands. Many ICU patients and premature babies would be on life support, not to mention the surgeries that were under way. They would all have to be moved to Tripler Army Medical Center, which thankfully sat on a small plateau northeast of Pearl Harbor. The patients who were not critical would have to be moved by bus, along with nursing home patients who were too feeble to move on their own. Others would have to be moved by helicopter.

The military presence on Oahu would be especially helpful in this crisis. The fleet of Army, Navy, and Air Force helicopters—as many as could get off the ground before the first wave arrived—and the numerous commercial helicopters on the islands would be pressed into service to evacuate the hospital patients and others who couldn’t get to safety in time.

“Michelle, you’re in charge of coordinating with the military. Get the bases around Pearl evacuated and get as many aircraft into the air as you can. We’ll need the helicopters badly, I’m guessing. The other planes can go up to Wheeler.” Wheeler Army Airfield was in mid-island Oahu. Not knowing exactly how big the waves would get, even Wheeler might not be safe, but it was the only option.

“Ronald, you’re in charge of the airports, Honolulu International in particular. Even though the Kahului Airport is on the north side of Maui, it’s also in danger because the wave will wrap around the island. You need to get everyone out of the airports. If there are planes all ready to go, get them in the air. But they don’t have time to start boarding. We don’t want to have them standing on the runway when the wave gets here.”

“What about the planes coming in?” Deakins said.

“If they don’t have the fuel to turn back to the mainland, they need to land at Wheeler. I don’t want anything landing at the commercial airports after ten minutes from now.”

Renfro got up, and except for Chet Herman the group dispersed.

“What about me?” Herman said.

Renfro paused. The equipment in the broadcast room was designed to be easy to use, but he still needed to have someone operate it while he was on air. The current warning was on a loop, and he would have to break in.

“I need you to help me with the broadcast,” Renfro said.

Renfro seated himself in front of the camera and clenched his hands tightly on his knees. He nodded at Herman, who hit a few buttons and then pointed at Renfro. The red light on the camera came on, and Renfro began the announcement.

“Hello, I am Brian Renfro, duty officer at Hawaii State Civil Defense.” He cleared his throat. “A tsunami warning has been issued for the entire Pacific, including the Hawaiian Islands. I am here to update that warning. The Pacific Tsunami Warning Center now has clear evidence from a deep-sea buoy that a massive tsunami is headed toward Hawaii. When it makes landfall, the tsunami is expected to be over eighty feet in height. We have lost contact with Christmas Island, and we know that a huge tsunami has hit Johnston Island. At 10:45 a.m. local time, the wave is expected to make landfall at the southern tip of the Big Island. It will hit Oahu and Honolulu at 11:22 this morning. The wave arrival times for the other islands will be scrolling across the bottom of the screen. If you are listening to this on the radio, the arrival times will be broadcast at the end of this announcement.”

He took a deep breath to steel himself for what he would say next.

“Larger waves may follow. Again, there is a strong possibility of multiple waves, and the first wave may not be the largest wave. The biggest wave could reach over two hundred feet in height. Therefore, we are urging all residents of the Hawaiian Islands to immediately leave their present locations and evacuate as far inland as possible. If you are already in a seagoing vessel, do not return to shore. Get as far out in the ocean as you can.”

At this point, he decided not to mention the asteroid. Without proof, he couldn’t be sure that people would take the warning seriously if he told them that an asteroid strike had caused the tsunami.

“If you have evacuated to the upper floors of a building, you are not safe. Please leave the building immediately and walk to high ground. Only those who are incapable of walking should take vehicles.

“Please do not panic. If you begin to walk now, you will have time to get to high ground. When we have further information, we will broadcast a new warning. But do not stay by your television. Take a portable TV or radio with you as you evacuate. Authorities will be assisting the evacuation.

“Good luck. That is all.”

10:38 a.m.

44 Minutes to Wave Arrival Time

Captain Martin Wainwright peered through the cockpit window of his C-130E at the bright blue ocean below. The chatter coming over the radio was like nothing he had ever heard in his eight years of flying for the 314th Airlift Wing. Reports were being thrown around about an immense tsunami heading toward Hawaii, but from an altitude of thirty-one thousand feet, the sea looked as calm and flat as a pond in his native Tennessee. The Air Force transport under his command had been flying for more than three hours on a mission from San Diego to Hickam Air Force Base carrying three brand-new Humvees for delivery to the naval base at Pearl Harbor. He was expecting the usual milk run for him and his four crewmates: land at Hickam, secure the aircraft, get off base for a few hours of sightseeing at Waikiki, hit the barracks for some sack time, then ferry a load of equipment back to the mainland the next day. Nothing that he hadn’t done a dozen times before. But the order he was now being given by the Honolulu Air Traffic Control Center was extraordinary.

“This is Air Force 547,” Wainwright said. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Say again, Honolulu control. You’re closing Hickam?”

“Roger that, 547,” the controller said, his voice clipped and strained. “You are instructed to turn back immediately to the mainland and make for the nearest possible landing site.”

“That’s a negative, Honolulu control. We’re past the point of no return.” The four-engine turboprop had already sucked up over half the fuel in its tanks. They wouldn’t make it within three hundred miles of San Diego before they ran out of gas. Hawaii was one of the most remote archipelagos in the world, which meant that there weren’t any other choices to land.

“Roger that, 547. You aren’t the only one. Continue on your current heading. We’ll try to make room at Wheeler for you.”

“Affirmative, Honolulu control.”

“And 547, be advised that we’ll be evacuating Honolulu control in thirty minutes. We’ll be turning control over to Wheeler Field at that time.”

Wainwright glanced at his copilot in disbelief. To close down the airport was one thing, but shutting down the control center was unprecedented. The troubled look on his copilot’s face reflected his own. Their routine run to the islands had just become a nail-biter.

Teresa had been waiting for thirty minutes, and there was still no sign of Mia and Lani. The sirens kept wailing at regular intervals, but without a radio, she didn’t know what was going on. Even though it was critically low on battery power, she had turned her cell phone back on. She had to take the chance in case the girls called her.

The situation on the beach had changed dramatically in the last half hour. When the beachgoers finally realized that the warning siren was not a test, many of them had quickly gathered their belongings and started heading out. But many others, much to her surprise, kept on doing what they were doing. They seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that a monster wave could be headed their way.