Operation Teacup Note: Chuck Flew Multiple Missions

Here are some other photos :

Vanilla Johnson on Arrival in Dallas Love Field

Patricia Ellington on Arrival in Wilmington NC

Friends,

My name is Chuck Fazio of Alexandria and you’re getting this email for one

of a couple of reasons: You either attended or rsvp’d to an event at my home

in Mt. Vernon, you’ve at one time sent me an email to my AOL account or I was

cc’d on an email you got from someone else. This is a blast email so I

sincerely apologize in advance if you find it to be inappropriate but if you read

on, I think you’ll see the cause is great.

Here’s why I’m writing. As you might know, I am a pilot and this past

Tuesday, I flew a 10 hour medical mercy flight bringing back to DC from Baton

Rouge to be reunited with her family, a 61 year old paraplegic woman named Lois

who barely survived the hurricane.

I'd like to tell you the story of that trip and at the end, make a special

appeal to you.

I took off around 7 Tuesday from my airport just south of the Wilson Bridge

and flew 4.5 hours non-stop to Baton Rouge landing at a corporate terminal

that was packed with a host of rescue pilots, a bunch of hurricane evacuees and

Brian Williams of NBC.

After flying for almost five hours at 16000 feet, I was a bit fuzzy and the action

in that small terminal all seemed to blend together in a surreal kind of way.

As I was walking up to the desk to register and ask for fuel, I heard my

first name Chuck being called out twice by one of the women behind the

counter on the phone.

I said YESand she looked at me and said Yeager? Cool, I thought in the haze,

she saw the landing I made next to the MD80 on the parallel runway.

Not quite it turns out. THE Chuck Yeager was on an inbound flight and she

was arranging transportation.

I need some water, I thought.

In the mass confusion of that terminal called an FBO, I looked for my Lois

but she was nowhere to be found so I found an empty room to get some quiet

time while I tried to track her down.

Phone service was still sporadic so the best I could do after about ten tries was to

leave a message for the graduate student who had been volunteering at the shelter

where Lois lived for the past 5 days. Lived’, I came to find, was a wholly inappropriate

term to use to describe the hell and misery this woman endured.

I went back to the desk to find a fuel bill of over $410! And that was for

only one way!

By now I got a call back from the grad student Marcio (Editor Note: Marcio is from Brazil)

who told me Lois was on her way. Sure enough, shortly thereafter a ambulance with lights

flashing, came though the gate, drove out on the ramp and up to my plane.

I immediately hopped into the back of the ambulance to introduce myself to the poor

woman on the gurney. My god she looked like she had been through hell. With

tears in her eyes she said, Mr. Fazio, you were sent by god to me.Well ma’am,

I replied,’’god and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms for many

years but don’t worry, in about 5 hours, you’ll be home to your family.

All she kept saying was, you saved, my life. That coupled with the I was

sent by god line shook m greatly. Oh sure, I’ve been told often that perhaps

the devil sent me but the god thing was something new.

The other thing that struck me was just how in the hell were we going to get

this woman laying flat on a stretcher into the back of my airplane!

Failure was not an option however. I still don’t know how we did it –

perhaps it was just another of the many miracles

Lois had over the past week, but after 20 minutes of effort, two

EMT’s and I were able to get this woman into the back of my Bonanza, the

inside of which is about the size of a small car. Gracious from the beginning to

the end, Lois kept saying she was fine although I knew she was in a great deal

of pain.

I called up the traffic controllers on the radio and was assigned a

lifeguard’ call sign which air traffic control uses to identify medical evacuation

flights.

For the next 5 hours, as I flew the almost 900 miles back to DC, I

was Lifeguard 727Victor Charlie nstead of the normal Bonanza 727Victor

Charlie.

All air traffic controllers would now know that I had a very special

person on board Lois and I waited for a C130 to takeoff and then my new

friend and I were wheels up into the wild blue yonder. And blue it was as

the flight conditions were near perfect.

On the intercom, all Lois could talk about was the miracle

she was in the middle of and the beauty of the country beneath us. Our route

of flight took us south of Jackson, Miss., right over Birmingham, Al., a

little south of Chattanooga, over Ashville, NC, Roanoke, Charlottesville and right

over the District.

Lois, despite being in severe pain and having just been through what can

only be described as hell on earth, told me a harrowing tale that leads me to

believe they’re gonna find thousands of dead old people in attics soon because I

‘m sure Lois’ story was not uncommon.

Lois, her 83y/o aunt, a male adult next door neighbor and his 15y/o son were

advised to NOT evacuate their house because they had more provisions in

there than they did at the Superdome.

Knowing Lois was sick, the men left their house and huddled together with the

elderly women in the aunt’s one story house. Had they not, there’s no question

that Lois and her aunt would be dead.

At 4:30am, they noticed water seeping into their house but at that point,

they weren’t worried. 45 minutes later however, there were 4 feet of water and

an hour after that, Lois was floating on her air mattress with her nose on

the ceiling.

The fact Lois had an air mattress instead of a regular one is the only reason

she floated.

That’s miracle 1.

The 15 y/o, now in the attic, was with great panic, tearing through the

ceiling dry wall in a desperate struggle to get to Lois. Somehow they were able

to cut enough ceiling away to pull Lois into the attic for miracle 2 but that’s

a short lived one as water is rushing in so fast that at this point they

realized that if they didn’t get out of the attic right away, they would all

drown.

Somehow, (somehow’ is used a lot in this story because there is other way

to tell you how they did the impossible ) they were able to cut a hole in

the roof just big enough to get the 15yo out for miracle number 3.

He was able to flag down a boat that just happened to have a chain saw in it

and an hour and a half later, Lois, for miracle number 4, is on the roof and

then in the boat. The only problem now is she’s on the way to the

Superdome.

I am so riveted by the story I’m hearing that I don’t hear air traffic

control’s call telling me to switch radio frequencies.

Lois goes on to tell me that her stay in the hell that is the Superdome is

less than 24 hours before miracle number 5 happens and despite the thousands

at the Superdome trying to get out, she’s evacuated to a hospital.

That’s the good news. The bad news is she’s being evacuated to a hospital

in New Orleans that’s about to be flooded.

A day late after she gets to that hospital, miracle number 6 happens and

unlike the hundreds of people who get stuck in NO hospitals with dozens dying,

she gets evacuated again, this time to the Pete Maravich Center (the P-Mac) on

the campus of LSU in Baton Rouge.

Lois then spends the next five days flat on her back in a military cot

with hundreds of other medical evacuees in what some describe as the largest field

hospital ever set up in the United States.

Lois spends most of her time talking and getting to know the nice woman

next to her. Sadly, her friend dies at 8:30 Tuesday morning because they gave

her too much insulin the night before.

I feel bad because had I gotten up at three am like I had planned, I would

have been down there in enough time to get Lois out before she had to spend

an agonizing two hours lying next to the stiffening corpse of her friend.

Lois finally gets the word that her nightmare is almost over, corpse aside,

as miracle number 7as she calls me is waiting for her at the airport to take

her home.

The whole trip, she kept saying that god is our co-pilot. Great, I though at

one point, because after 8 of ten hours in the plane, I’m freaken beat and

could use the help flying the plane. My headset feels like a vice and my

temporary crown is throbbing so much that I’m cursing my dentist and everyone he

loves.

Then I feel like a whining wuss as Lois reminds me by her gentle voice

what real suffering is about. The strange thing is although it hasn’t worked

properly for months, my autopilot worked flawlessly on this trip taking a

huge workload off me.

I told that to Lois who said, told you god was your co-pilot, baby.

The woman had been in hell for a week yet she didn’t lose her sense of humor.

4 and a half hours later, we were in the local airspace and Washington

Center, the air traffic controllers that cover airspace as far south as the

Carolinas switches me over to Potomac Approach which controls the airspace near DC.

They advised me that I would be routed around to the east of Washington in

order to avoid the restricted airspace. As if! After spending close to five

hours in the plane, Lois needed to get on the ground so I replied in no

uncertain terms that I had a woman in the back in pain who has been holed up in an

evacuation center for the past week and I’d really like to go direct.

A couple of seconds later I was told Lifeguard 727Victor Charlie, fly direct to

DCA, stay clear of the downtown prohibited areas and then on to College park

airport. Cool. That saved at least 20 minutes.

So, 5 hours after we took off, we were touching down into a beautiful

sunset. You’re home, darling, I said to that wonderful woman as I slowed the

plane down.

The airport called the local EMT’s, who after much work, got Lois out of my

plane and into their ambulance where she lay alone. I climbed into the back

to say goodbye to her and after showing such incredible strength all day, she

was just overcome with emotion. Tears were streaming down her face.

˜You saved my life, you saved my life, you saved my life god sent you, god

sent you over and over again.

I squeeze her hand and said goodbye. She looked up at me now, and too tired

to make a sound, mouths the words, I love you.

After 18 hours, it’s more than I can handle.

*****

I wish I could make these trips every day until every last person is out of

that hell but I can’t because quite honestly, this trip cost over $800 in

fuel alone. I just can’t afford it to do it anymore unless I get some help so

that’s why I’m writing to you now.

Could you spare a few bucks to help out so

we can immediately evacuate more people like Lois?

Or you can send a check to me @ 600 N. Henry St

Alexandria 22314 or you can call 703 894-9000 and tell Chris you want to

help Chuck by donating with a credit card.

The money isn’t tax deductible but I hope that’s not what matters to you.

Rather than being put into some big budget, your contribution will be spent

on gas that will be used by me and other local pilots who are trying to take

human beings out of inhumane conditions. I feel bad for asking but I’d feel

worse for not.

I appreciate very much you taking the time to read this note and I again

apologize if it was inappropriate to send it to you.

Peace,

Chuck Fazio

703 801-0700

If you know anyone else who might be able to help, would you please forward

this email to them? If you have any questions, please call me.