When people ask where I was during Hurricane Katrina, the memories come rushing back. Like many along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, I never expected the storm to reach the magnitude it did. I had heard the stories of Hurricane Camille and remembered being a child during Hurricane Frederic, but nothing prepared me for what happened on August 29, 2005.
At the time, I was just over a year into a contract job at Keesler Air Force Base, supporting the Air Force public affairs office. I was 30 years old, full of ambition, and recently engaged to my high school sweetheart. We were set to be married just weeks after Katrina’s landfall. Life felt full of promise. But the storm had other plans.
The Evacuation
In the days leading up to landfall, our team at Keesler followed routine storm preparations: covering equipment, securing offices, and monitoring forecasts. Katrina strengthened rapidly, and when it reached Category 5 status, panic set in. My fiancée, her parents, and I scrambled to evacuate. The nearest hotel we could find was in Panama City, Florida, nearly five hours away.
We watched Katrina slam into the Gulf Coast on television, uncertain of the devastation back home. Phone lines were down, so text messages—still a relatively new technology at the time—became our lifeline. When I finally reached my father, he told me everything south of Highway 90 was underwater. The weight of that news was crushing.
To make matters worse, my fiancée and I had just purchased our first home. We hadn’t even moved in yet. The fear of losing it before we began our life together was overwhelming.
Coming Home
The drive back from Panama City should have taken four hours. It took nine. I wound through back roads in Florida and Alabama, carrying gas cans just to make sure I could get home. When I finally pulled up to our house, I was relieved to see it mostly intact—just a branch had torn some shingles from the roof. My father’s home down the street, however, bore the scars of flooding.
Over the next week, I joined family and friends in the exhausting process of ripping out sheetrock and salvaging what little we could. In between helping loved ones, I returned to Keesler, where I was called back into service almost immediately.
Documenting the Aftermath
Our assignment was daunting: document the storm’s devastation for the Air Force. For five weeks, our small team traveled the coast with cameras in hand, recording scenes of destruction that are still hard to describe. In some neighborhoods, the damage was so complete that it was difficult to know where we were.
At one site, we were asked to turn off our cameras as recovery crews removed bodies from a home. The silence of those moments was haunting. Everything looked sepia-toned, as saltwater had killed grass and trees alike. Standing next to overturned cars in the oppressive heat, listening only to the buzz of cicadas, felt like stepping into a post-apocalyptic novel.
Despite the darkness, there were also moments of grace. I remember how local churches rose up, providing food, shelter, and hope. Security forces shared their MREs with us. Neighbors helped neighbors gut houses and dig through debris for family treasures. The generosity and resilience of the Coast left an impression on me that has never faded.
A Wedding After the Storm
Katrina even disrupted our wedding plans. The venue we had booked was flooded with seven feet of water. But we pressed on. On October 7, 2005—just over a month after the storm—we were married at the Shell Landing clubhouse, one of the few places still intact. Re-sending wedding invitations wasn’t easy, but in the end, we celebrated surrounded by friends and family who had endured so much yet remained hopeful.
Looking Back
Twenty years later, I still think about those weeks documenting the storm and its aftermath. Some of the footage we captured remains locked away, but I have boxes of tapes that remind me of the destruction—and the strength—of the people of Mississippi.
Katrina changed the landscape of the Gulf Coast forever. Many landmarks from my childhood are gone, and some communities never fully recovered. Yet, what I remember most is not just the destruction, but the unity. We shared, cared, cried, and prayed together.
In the midst of devastation, I saw the hand of God and the resilience of a community that refused to give up. That’s what I remember about Hurricane Katrina.
