Tuesday, November 12, 2013:

Most of us were awake by 3:00 am, an hour before we were planning to leave to go to the airport. Because of a curfew being enforced by the military, there wasn’t going to be anyone on the roads this time, making it a lot easier to get there. Very different from last time, however, there were about 50 of us that were going to be heading to the airport, which was definitely above the maximum capacity of the mission vehicles.

President Andaya explained how he planned to get us all to the airport. At about 4:00 am, we would fill our vehicles to maximum capacity, trying to get all of the sisters to the airport on the first trip. As the vehicles left, everyone else would begin the nearly 3 mile long walk on foot towards the airport. When the truck made it to the airport, it would circle back and pick up as many people as it could from the walking group.

President Andaya cautioned us concerning the current situation in Tacloban, which was becoming increasingly desperate.  There had been an increasing number of reports of food and water related violence, with the city on the edge of anarchy. We were to walk quickly and in silence in as tight a group as possible. The few missionaries that were in missionary attire were going to be at the head of the formation as well as at the rear so that the group could be identified as missionaries if we encountered anyone. Staying together was to be essential in order to ensure our safety and to prevent anyone from being harmed or left behind.

Preparing to leave, we all lined up at the side of the Stake Center while the sisters were piled into the trucks. Seeing how the group had struggled to stay together just walking around, I began to worry about how well the plan would be followed and went down the line reminding everyone that they needed to stay close together and not let big gaps form or have the line stretch out long and thin.  Since Elder Oakes and I were in white shirts and ties, and also because we had the two brightest flashlights in the mission, we were put at the front along with the Elders who knew the way to the airport.

Within minutes of leaving the church, the line had stretched out long and thin. Several large gaps opened up as some missionaries were talking loudly, joking around with their friends, and falling far behind those who were walking ahead of them.   Efforts to remind everyone to be quiet and stay together proved insufficient. Some would close the gaps and remember to talk quietly only to forget to continue doing both as we returned to the front of the line; others disregarded the instructions entirely.

As it started to rain, the scene on both sides of the road, lit only by the light of our flashlights, seemed like something more appropriate for a horror movie than for real life. Large piles of rubble lay on either side of the road, and no other lights could be seen. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and dead animals could be seen in the wreckage. Because I wasn’t looking for them, I never saw any, but many of those who walked with us to the airport saw dozens of bodybags that had been laid out the previous day. I did, however, see a coffin that we passed on the road. It had been set out on the road on a stand.

When President Andaya’s truck circled back to the group, we stopped at the truck for as many of us as possible to get on to go to the airport.  However, contrary to the Mission President’s instruction, some of the group continued ahead, leaving the main group behind. I struggled to understand why it was so difficult for some to follow such simple directions in such a serious situation.

At about the halfway point on the road to the airport, it started to rain extremely hard. I still had my trusty umbrella that I had found in Tolosa, but there were many walking with us that didn’t have anything to protect themselves from the rain.

After we rounded the bend onto the peninsula, I was able to get into the bed of the truck for the fourth and last trip. The rain was still very heavy, but as we started moving, my umbrella wasn’t enough to keep me from getting soaked. I was probably still one of the least wet in the truck bed, but with the rain moving sideways and trickling down off of the cab, I wasn’t able to keep my backpack very dry, and some of my books that hadn’t been put in the waterproof container got very wet.

When we finally got to the airport, we found it already filled with other people trying to get out of Tacloban. Because it was out on a peninsula, the airport had been nearly destroyed by the typhoon. Most of the walls were missing, and the roof was in poor shape. Glad to get out of the rain, we joined the rest of the missionaries inside the remains of the terminal.