When Tropical Storm Irene blew through New England, I was driving back to Maine from Canada.  That should already show the faith I have that the weather forecasts will always be wrong.  Aside from the gusts of wind that took a few power lines down in the road and the torrential downpour that we hit in northern Maine, the trip was fairly uneventful.  By the time we reached Portland, the rain had stopped and the storm showed signs of leaving for good.  I once again chalked up a win for stubborn Mainers who refused to be put out by a small thing like a hurricane.  But Maine is not Vermont.  And Irene was no joke for Vermont. 

    It was the Thursday after Irene came through that I received the phone call notifying me to be at the armory with my platoon in 14 hours.  36 hours later we had a convoy of over 70 vehicles rolling out of Maine.  My unit, the 262d Engineer Company, was tasked as the lead element of the operation, with other units of our battalion sending detachments.  All told, almost 200 Maine Guardsmen made the long haul from Maine to Vermont.  As a brand new platoon leader, this was to be my first convoy.  Not only that, but I was assigned the lead chalk.  It was an eye-opening experience: planning and executing that kind of movement with little time to plan showed me just what the Guard is capable of.   We rolled into Rutland, VT close to midnight that night, forced to take a very long route because so many of the roads were out.  Even at that late hour, people still came out to line the street and wave at us as we drove in, beginning a trend of generous local support that would continue to the very end.

     Irene had caused massive infrastructural damage to Vermont's transportation system: roads, bridges, and railways were simply gone in some places.  Continued rain caused even more flooding.  Soon after we were on the ground, we were given mission assignments.  Some units went off to repair roads, others cleaned out washed out buildings.  My platoon was sent out for debris removal.  I didn't understand what this meant until I saw the debris.  And just how much of it there was. 

This continued up the stream of the river for half a mile.

    That picture is endemic of the damage in that river.  Trees from further upstream had been torn out by the roots and pulled downriver by the torrent.  Silt beds four feet high had gathered in some places.  As long as the river was clogged, more rain would mean more flooding.  My platoon hit the ground running on Monday morning, eager to start work.  In their typical good humor, they had designated the name of our assignment "Operation Vermonty Python."  This sort of humor could also be seen from the locals.  On an area of the road that had been filled with river silt, someone had placed a beach chair, beach umbrella, a six pack of Corona, and a sign that read "Vermont Beach."  

      Second Platoon "Horsemen" at work.  

     Our days became fairly routine: cut up the timber, haul away the stumps and garbage, repeat.  My soldiers were honestly an inspiration to watch.  Even in the worst kind of weather they were in good spirits.  I attribute part of this to the massive amounts of food that we were being given by the locals.  Almost daily, someone would drop off pizza, doughnuts, or cookies, in addition to the great food we were getting at our billets.  Our job site had the added wrinkle of being the new VT Route 7, as the original one had washed out.  Over 7,000 cars would go through our work area in just one day.  Honks, waves, and thumbs up made us realize just how appreciative the locals were.  

Local school kids made hundreds of cards for us, thanking us for our work.  Honestly, that alone made the job worthwhile.

     Our mission lasted two weeks.  As a historian, I can't help but look at all the numbers and statistics of the mission: my platoon hauled 237 5-ton dump truck loads of debris.  They cleared almost six acres of land.  They worked with National Guardsmen from three other states as well as local civilian contractors.  But for me, the statistics don't do it.  For me, seeing people's faces light up when they would see our vehicles made it all worthwhile.  To see kids waving in the school buses that went by every day.  As corny as it sounds, that really is why I joined the National Guard, to be able to respond to disasters and bring relief to those in my own country.  

     When we got home, we cleaned up our vehicles, put away our equipment, and went back to our regular jobs.  And that's the amazing thing about the National Guard.  In 36 hours you can go from being a regular civilian (having what he thinks is a day off, which was what I was doing when the call came) to rolling down the road in a convoy bringing aid to a disaster area.  Just as quickly, you can go right back into the civilian world.  I continue to be amazed at soldiers' ability to adapt.

     There was one day in particular that stands out to me in retrospect.  The 10th anniversary of 9/11 fell during our activation.  Everyone was aware of the day, and I think each unit took a moment to remember.  As we were loading our vehicles in the morning, several soldiers shared the stories of where they were that day and what 9/11 meant for them.  Some had been subsequently called up for deployment in the years after.  Some had joined because of it.  For everyone, 9/11 was a pivotal point in their lives that had served to place them in the National Guard.