BATON ROUGE, La

The line of cars bends around street comers and twists through parking lots before it passes the distribution point where Tennessee National Guard soldiers toss cases of water, boxes of Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) and bags of ice into trunks and back seats for grateful residents.

"God bless you, fellas." "Thank you so much." "Thanks for being here."

This is the morning of Sept. 4, about 60 hours after the hurricane dubbed Gustav swept through central Louisiana, toppling trees and knocking out power to tens of thousands of homes, stores and businesses. The hurricane has been more destructive here than its more famous predecessor known as Katrina, which hit in 2005 while most of the Tennessee soldiers here were in Iraq.

Less than three days after Gustav hit, people in their cars wait for hours to accept the free offerings from the 2nd Squadron, 278th Armored Cavalry Regiment. More than 4,000 cars daily pass through each of the two points of distribution (PODs) established by the visitors from the Volunteer State.

Capt. Troy Bishop, commander of Enforcer Troop, watches the first day with eyes wide as a rusty old pickup truck, for example, is followed by a brand new SUV It is a scene repeated time and again.

"The entire economic spectrum was there," he says later that day.

That's the way of hurricanes. They are great equalizers. With power stolen from refrigerators and no stores open for business, even folks with sturdy bank accounts rely on others for basic essentials.

And while the damage left by Gustav is being repaired, more storms line up in the Atlantic, much like the cars that sit bumper to bumper in the Baton Rouge streets. Hurricane Hanna would veer north and give the East Coast a good soaking. Hurricane Ike would turn its fury on the Texas coast with devastating results, (story, page 42).

Each of them would require Guard response. For the Guard, these massive storms come, really, with only one name Hurricane Déjà Vu.

On Sept. 6, five days after Gustav hit the beach, about 16,000 Guardsmen from more than 20 states were either in Louisiana or on their way.

It was like the Katrina response all over again: Missouri sent 1,300 soldiers to provide security and clear roads. Pararescuemen came from California. The New York Air Guard sent 15 aeromedicai airmen from the 109th Airlift Wing.

Iowa's 211th General Support Aviation Battalion sent five soldiers and one CH-47 Chinook helicopter to provide airlift. The New York Army National Guard also sent Chinooks.

Alaska's 176th Wing sent two HH-60 Pave Hawks and 30 airmen to support search and rescue. And the list goes on.

Brig. Gen. Stephen C. Dabadie, who is knee-deep in Gustav at the Governor's Office of Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness in Baton Rouge, coordinating the Guard's efforts around the state Sept. 6, says, "This is not just the Louisiana National Guard. This is the National Guard."

They staff more than 60 PODs throughout the state, like the two run by the Tennessee soldiers, as well as doing many other jobs, from clearing roads to patrolling streets, which might be the most important job in easing fears of the storm victims.

"You have some parishes in the hardest hit area that are in excess of 90 percent [power] outages," Dabadie says. "You take a town in Louisiana or a parish that doesn't have electricity, they're [dark]. There's a tremendous amount of trust in the National Guard."

That was clear before the storm came ashore, he says.

"In New Orleans, when people evacuated, the Guard was in there," he adds. "While you're gone, we'll look after your place for you."

Dabadie says a "critical piece" of the response is the interagency cooperation. The state police, and state departments of health, transportation and social services are just a few of those involved.

"Each one of them is responsible for an emergency support function," he says. "Here in Louisiana, we put a National Guard liaison with each one of them."

The Guard's response, he says, has been "overwhelmingly successful." For that, he credits his boss, Maj. Gen. Bennett C. Landreneau, state adjutant general, who has "drilled us and drilled us to be able to execute this plan."

Above Dabadie's desk is a television tuned to The Weather Channel. Asked if he turns away from news of Hurricane Ike, Dabadie smiles and shakes his head.

"I had a contingency planning meeting just this morning on future operations," he says.

Unlike many of their brethren who came specifically for hurricane relief, the Tennessee soldiers' presence is pure happenstance. They were about to finish annual training across the state border at Camp Shelby, Miss., when the storm hit on Monday, Sept. 1.

"We got the official word Monday night and we sent out our first element about 7 o'clock Tuesday morning," says Lt. Col. John Krenson, the squadron's new commander.

Krenson was not due to take charge until after a ceremony on Sept. 5, but the storm changed those plans.

"I can't imagine a better way to take command," he says as he travels through the darkness toward Baton Rouge two days after the storm hit.

In Baton Rouge, Krenson is in charge of Task Force Raider, which includes more than 700 soldiers, including about 150 from Louisiana and about 120 from Company A, 2nd Battalion, 137th Infantry from Lawrence, Kan., who arrived Sept. 5.

"It was a no-brainer," says Sgt. 1st Class David Koch of Kansas. "This is the kind of thing me guys are in the Guard for."

Krenson establishes a tactical operations center at the basketball field house on the campus of Southern University in northwest Baton Rouge, one of the few places where electricity is still available.

Thanks to the logistics efforts of Capt. Matthew Smith, the soldiers are able to sleep on cots and receive three hot meals each day, better conditions than many of the local residents enjoy.

"It's what I've been doing since I was a company commander," Smith says of his never-ending task to take care of the soldiers.

The two main missions, Krenson says, are operating the PODs and helping bed law enforcement provide security to darkened neighborhoods and stores where alarm systems are crippled by the power outage.

"When the power is out, the temptation for the bad folks is to take advantage of it," he says.

Bishop spends his time bouncing from POD to POD, most of the time with a cell phone to his ear, ensuring supplies will be adequate and his soldiers are not wearing down in the 90-degree heat and near-equal humidity.

"I have good NCOs," he says. They tell him how the soldiers are holding up as the long hours pass each day.

One POD ran out of tarps provided to cover holes in roofs. Sgt. 1st Class Brian Vannote says one couple nearly broke down when told the news.

"They'd waited in line eight or nine hours," he says.

Sgt 1st Class Jerry Asberry says he feels fortunate as he sees car after car pass through for the water, food and ice.

"It's not much, but it means a lot to these people," he says.

Fifteen members of the Louisiana Air Guard join 30 Tennessee soldiers at one POD. Senior Master Sgt. Rodney Schaubut of the 159th Fighter Wing at Belle Chasse, La., says, "This is the first rime I've seen Army Guard and Air Guard interface at this level with no bullshit."

It's the mission, he says, that makes that happen, and he points to a lieutenant colonel who flies F-15s for a living as proof. The pilot is handling cases of MREs and water just like the enlisted folks.

"That's what it's about," Schaubut says. "It's a humanitarian effort. These people [in the cars] are scared, nervous just like everybody eke."

Referring to the Tennessee Guard soldiers working alongside him, he says, "We appreciate these guys coming down. I can't say enough about the Tennessee National Guard."

Without Gustav, the Tennessee soldiers would be back at Camp Shelby, cleaning tanks and Bradleys in preparation for a return home in a day or two. Instead, they know they'll be in Louisiana for at least another week.

"Yeah, we would all rather be home, of course," says Sgt. Matthew McDonough. "But duty calls. We do what we have to do."

Pfc. Jason Jones adds, "This was a welcome change because that's our jot) - to help our state and country."

Sometimes a language barrier rises between the Tennessee drawl and the Cajun accent of Baton Rouge. Capt. Joseph Wise, commander of the Tennessee squadron's engineer troop, says he asked one person if they wanted a tarp.

"A turnip?" the person responded.

While Bishop's soldiers handle food and water distribution, the soldiers of Foxtrot Troop are patrolling the streets, letting people know they have friends looking out for them.

Capt. Colby Tippens, the troop commander, says his soldiers make frequent stops during their 12-hour shifts to interact with the people, a way to overcome the inherent threatening image of soldiers with weapons riding in Humvees.

"They're there for them," he says of the soldiers. "They're not there watching them."

Spc. Michael Tallman says the residents didn't know what to think when the soldiers first arrived.

"Some of them had a funny look on their faces," he says, but as the soldiers interacted, the people understood why they were mere.

Baton Rouge Police Chief Jeff LeDuff says the Tennessee soldiers are a "godsend." His force, he says, had been stretched thin in the wake of Gustav.

"Any organization wears down," he says, "and that's when you call in Big Brother. We make the call, tell them the requirements, then the cavalry comes in."

One of Tippens' patrols crisscrosses the Gaddere neighborhood, a high-crime, high-poverty area of town usually patrolled by the East Baton Rouge Sheriff's Department.

"Basically, our mission here is just to provide a presence and a detenent," says Sgt. 1st Class Matt Cousins, who is a civilian cop back in Sullivan County, Tenn. "We pick people at random to stop and talk to. We interact with the children. The kids love us.

"According to the sheriff's office, they have pretty regular trouble in this area. What we hear from the sheriff's department and the fire department, the Guard being here has made a difference."

One of Cousins' objectives for Friday, Sept. 5, is to remove a downed tree blocking traffic on Jasper Street. He figures to maybe pull it away with his Humvee if he can find a chain, but while on patrol, he happens upon a better solution: Louisiana Guard soldiers carrying chain saws.

"They gave me two chain saws and nine guys and a stack of maps and said, 'Go clear the roads,'" says Sgt. David Clements of the 926th Mobility Augmentee Company, a combat engineer unit from Baker, La.

Cousins tells him of the tree on Jasper Street and leads the way to it. Clements and his soldiers pounce on the tree and reduce it to firewood in less than 30 minutes.

"I guess we've been cutting trees three or four days now. We cut trees yesterday until the sun went down," Clements says, adding as he points toward his young soldiers, "Here they are ready again. These guys are incredible."

As the Tennessee Humvee pulls away from the site of the downed tree, two men approach from a house and ask if the soldiers know when their power might return.

"They're working on it," Spc. Willis Greene tells them from the driver's seat. "I know you heard that before, but they're working on it."

Casey Hicks, public information director for the sheriff's office, calls the presence of the Guard soldiers "very valuable." Deputies had been working 16-hour shifts and even detectives and the SWAT team had been called in for patrol duty.

"We're very appreciative, very fortunate, to have these extra hands," she says. "They all have great attitudes, great personalities."

That appreciation was shown, too, by Baton Rouge Mayor Melvin "Kip" Holden.

"We have been blessed with their response," he says.

He was taken aback a few days earlier, he says, when he stumbled upon groups of Guard soldiers camped out on floors in hallways just to get a few minutes of sleep before going out to continue with the assistance.

"That shows a tremendous amount of dedication to the job," he says, "but, at the same time, it shows character."

Four days after taking command of the squadron, Krenson finally gets the chance to address his soldiers. Gathered in the center of the field house, he tells them, "We've got a big ride ahead of us and this is a hell of a way to start that ride."

He tells them to take away memories from Baton Rouge, and tells one of his own. When he tossed MREs into the back of an open hatchback at one of the PODs that day, he says, two young girls-about the ages of his children-cheered from the backseat.

"It just about tore my heart up," he says. "I'll never forget that memory and I'll tell that story to a lot of people."

Then he addresses the subject on everyone's mind-going home. It might be in a week, he says. It might be longer.

"If we get out of here a little earlier, Hooah," he says. "If we don't, well, that's Hooah. We'll just do a little more good for the people of Louisiana."

© 2008 National Guard Association of the United States Provided by ProQuest LLC. All Rights Reserved.