Still Tuesday, 22 Mar 11…
As we rise slowly from the airfield, I peer out the right door of the HH-60G Pave Hawk, looking for anything that might indicate the state of a nation after a natural disaster. The weather is crap – less than a mile of visibility under a low ceiling and precipitation. But what I can see is more of the same: Japan carries on. If stoicism is a virtue, then this nation is a paragon.
On the way out to the coast, we stop for fuel at a Japanese Air Self Defense Force (JASDF) base, then proceed. Not until we hit the coast and proceed north do I make my first encounter with the tsunami: A shipping yard, looking unsettled; containers whose angle of repose suggest a short battle with a superior power; a demarcated lack of human activity. Then this, at sea, for miles and miles:
Tsunami Debris
Beneath me, the detritus of ten thousand lives lost. Sometimes, it is what you see above – household items and the splintered remains of the homes themselves. Occasionally, it is an entire home, upended and silent. In these moments, I am reminded of the fragility of human life in contrast with the enduring nature of the inanimate, and the cruel irony of it all.
We peer and scan for some sign of life, hoping for just one more save. But there is no relief.
Due to the Fukushima hysteria, we are forced to give it a wide berth as we fly up the coast, so for a time, there is nothing to see but the sea itself. Then, as we near Sendai, the coastline comes into view, and for the first time, what I saw on the news becomes real. The public affairs airman flying with us maneuvers his camera around, straining to get a better view of the devastation.
Low quality shot of the coastline south of Sendai - breached sea wall, flooded land, and a swath of destruction
The men I’m flying with see it as they have for the past week, and they seem no more numb to it for the exposure, which is strange for our breed. We are now in the heart of the hardest-hit area of Japan, and the gravity of the moment is not lost on me. Staring out the cabin window, I am simply at a loss for words to describe what I see. On a personal level, there is searing heartache for my family.
Water where there should be none.
On comms, I begin to hear radio traffic between the pilots and the Combat Control Team running the Sendai Airfield. Men from the 320th Special Tactics Squadron are currently controlling the airport air space, as the military works with the Japanese to re-open the airfield. What I see before me is surreal.
Sendai Airport
“CRO, Pilot.” My headset comes to life.
“Go ahead.”
“Yeah, so we’re dropping you off, and coming back for you later, correct?”
“Roger.”
“How much time you need?”
“I’d say an hour or so should be plenty of time.”
“Roger, we’re going to head up north from here, probably grab some gas then pick you up.”
“Copy.”
We land on the airstrip, guided first by an operator on a mini-bike, the sight of which brings levity to an otherwise un-funny situation. Then, as we idle, I open the door, grab my pack, and run out from underneath the turning rotors to my ride, an ATV with a controller on the seat. He yells over the engine noise:
“Want to meet the commander?”
I nod to affirm, jump on behind him, and we’re off towards the terminal. Once we stop, he lets me know Maj John Traxler is currently upstairs meeting with his airport and military counterparts. Walking to the stairs, I note a muddy high-water mark on the wall, probably six feet up.
“When we got here, the water still covered the airfield, dude. It was insane. The airstrip was covered in mud, debris, cars, containers, you name it.” The stairs are still covered with dirt as we climb up. “There’s still no power, and everything is running off generators, man.”
I am unprepared for what I see as I enter the meeting room. This is a different Japan than what I am used to. Computer equipment stands idle amid the scent of cigarettes. The room is filled with airport authorities and Japanese military. Amidst the bustle, a tall man stands in a US military uniform, wearing radios and tactical ensemble.
“Major, this is…,” the controller trails off as he looks at me questioningly.
“Matt Komatsu,” I say as I shake John Traxler’s hand.
“Matt, great to meet you. Steve Goodman speaks highly of you. BK, you can head back out.” With a nod, my escort heads back to his ATV.
“So, you speak, Japanese, right?”
Gulp.
“A little. Enough to get by.”
John lays out the situation. He and his team identified the airport as a perfect opportunity for his team early on, when the Japanese had no interest in reopening it. Recognizing it was a critical node for the transmission of relief supplies, John and his men have been here for a week, living in the airport itself. When they started, it was just them. Slowly, the Japanese started showing back up to help as the military applied more and more resources. Within days, joint efforts between the Japanese and US military plowed and cleaned off the majority of the airstrip, allowing flight traffic to resume. At this point, his men are still controlling the airfield from tactical radios, but he’s eager to pass the effort back to the Japanese. Every day, the US footprint grows larger, and together they’ve made great strides to restoring the airfield.
“Look, I’ve got to do this meeting with Colonel ‘Mats’, awesome guy. But if you can talk to these gents over here, I need them to understand that we want them to start running the show.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do.”
My head is spinning, as John has tried to cram a week’s worth of events and information into 60 seconds of talk. Luckily, I’m just into the introductions when John pulls me over into the meeting occurring on the other end of the room.
After the meeting, John and I talk while walking towards the terminal where his team is living. He asks me to abort my previous plan of staying only an hour, to get a feel for the situation and see if the PJs he has with him are being utilized effectively. I agree, and instantly regret not bringing my sleep gear.
We climb into the jetway and enter the dark and chilled terminal, with one thought on my mind:
It’s going to be a cold night.
Sendai AIrport terminal jetway
