Latest story of a man of faith

He helps residents get on with lives
after they ‘benefit’ from disaster
Story and photos by Dave Harris, Public Affairs
Louisiana Recovery Field Office
A lesser person would, by now, be exhausted. But
Gerald Townsell keeps at it - singing, calling, observing,
reporting, talking.

"I'm a talker," he admits. But check his schedule and
one sees that he walks the talk.

As quality assurance field supervisor in New Orleans'
west bank, Gerald firmly but politely redirects a crew
away from an easy debris pick-up and has them focus on
the more unsightly mess 50 yards away in the public
right-of-way.

During a break in his seven-day-a-week schedule, he
takes a quick call from his pastor at the Church of God in
Christ where he is chairman of the Board of Trustees. It's
a grounds maintenance challenge. Next month he goes to
his church's leadership conference in Orlando, Fla., on his
own nickel - make that his own 20,000 nickels, an annual
trek somewhere in the country he's repeated at least six
times.

Back to making sure QAs are checking licenses and
paperwork. Someone's truck has leaking equipment. Shut
'em down - temporarily.

Next free moment, probably late at night, get ready to
play Santa at Memphis' adopted school, Ford Elementary.
Decide what to sing at the Christmas party.

Before that, a demo crew knocks a utility line down.
Fill out another report.

Check the load ticket tally. More calls. Send in a
report on 30-60-90-day planning. Finish the "this-weeknext-
week" report. Jot down an idea for after-duty preparation
of a Bible lesson. Talk to Kenner. Talk to the resi-
dent engineer, Kevin Blair, about next week's demolition
schedule.

"Gerald likes being in charge," Blair says. "He runs
the west bank. Everything runs smoothly. I hear about big
problems, and there aren't many of those, and so I don't
hear much from him."

Someone asks Gerald, "I understand you also sing in
the choir."

"No more," he says. "I did." He sighs. "It was getting a
bit too much."

Oh, he still sings. Just not in the choir anymore.
Gerald is an operatic singer who studied at the Settlement
Music School, Queen Village in Philadelphia, what locals
call "South Philly." More recently he sang male lead in
Porgy and Bess and in "An Evening with George
Gershwin."

At church he and his trustees take people in and find
them a place to stay, between overseeing grounds-keeping
and church-building, with its checks, inspections, walkthroughs
and financial draws for the contractors - "you
name it."

He helped establish GED - General Educational
Development - programs through his church.
When home working for Memphis District, one
moment Gerald orders 600,000 gallons of fuel for
Memphis waterborne vessels after negotiating a 10-centper
gallon discount. Next moment, he gets a call from a
competitor.

"You didn't order the fuel from me!"
"I got it for 10 cents a gallon cheaper," Gerald replies.
"That's $60,000! I'm saving the government a lot of
money."

Whether at home or deployed, he's just as busy. Just as
driven. Gerald is maintenance mechanic supervisor, Yards
and Docks unit, Plant Section, Physical Support Branch.
He's been the Black Employees program manager
since 1999.

He's in charge of all fueling for Memphis District vessels.
He oversees the maintenance shop pulling wheels and
shafts from bulldozers, front-end loaders and all manner
of equipment.

He's responsible for cleaning up and turning over the
Jean Lafitte disposal site to Waste Management.
He runs safety meetings and conducts on-site assessments.
Why? "To make it a little easier on contractors."

He checks and double-checks buildings slated for
demolition marks them and has them tested for asbestoscontaining
material.

A man on a mission -
many missions, with skills
crafted over 35 years working
for the federal government.

"As a young kid of 14, I
was a short-order cook at the
Naval Hospital in
Philadelphia," he says. "I
swabbed floors and helped
patients carry their trays. I
washed pots and helped make
salads."

Gerald quickly points out
the benefits of such hard
work for a young person, and
swinging his elbows, he passionately
demonstrates how
he learned to properly maneuver
a mop.

Multitasking and keeping so many plates in the air, he
has no patience for foot-dragging, especially here in
Louisiana.

"I tell people you need to work as hard and as fast as
you can to help people get their lives together," he says. "I
manage, the best I can, to work through every loophole to
help people get on with their lives. We have to help them
past the bottlenecks. It's like basketball. Five players are
trying to stop you, but your job is to make a basket.
"The people of Louisiana are really brave," he says.
"Near Jean Lafitte, I had bug spray and the mosquitoes
were overwhelming. But even though the residents were
beating them off, they acted like nothing was happening -
like the mosquitoes were part of the family."

Gerald claims a rapport with contractors he oversees.
"I listen to their concerns," he says. "They're happy
working for the Corps. I tell them to save money, that
there's not much time to have a party."

He says that most contractors are local. "They're
down-home people. I like the way they talk. I listen to
them and it makes me feel good."

The rapport pays off. "It makes it easy to tell them,
'Fix the boards on the side of your truck.' I tell them we're
all in this together in helping people move forward with
their lives."

Drive through New Orleans and the west bank and
you cringe at the wind-blown and flooded homes and
businesses. You hesitate taking pictures and hope you
don't add to the sparse residents' already profound humiliation.
Many think that all hope for a tolerable future is
gone.

But Gerald, the hard-working man of faith, is visionary.
Just when you're feeling your sorriest for the historic
place and people, Gerald utters an alternative view, exuding
a never-say-die buoyancy.

"New Orleans will benefit from this disaster, because
good happens from every bad thing that happens," he
says.

He tells of a New Orleans woman who moved to
Seattle and is making five times more money than she
ever did.

"She is so much better off, and it took the disaster to
push her to do something for herself instead of being
stuck in the mud," he explains. "Something significant
must happen to change someone's mind sometimes.

"New Orleans will be 10 times better than it ever
was," he says with evangelistic fervor.

"No doubt in my mind."

Gunshot hero's picture

Gunshot Hero

Soldier’s training pays off in life-or-death French Quarter encounter
By Dave Harris, Public Affairs, Louisiana Recovery Field Office
The firecracker sounds of multiple gunshots in the night infused Spec. Megan Wilinski with a blast of adrenalin. She bolted outside dressed in an Army t-shirt over sports garb and camo trousers; she spotted a wave of her cohorts zeroing in on the action.

“Someone’s been shot!”

A bystander called for medics. A woman stood over a fallen victim.

“No one was doing anything,” the chemical specialist said. Help was on the way, but no one was caring for the man who was going into shock.

Someone in the crowd asked her, “Do you know first aid?”

“I know what the Army taught me,” Megan said, and flew into action.
Megan saw blood coming from the man’s chest, instantly ripped off her own t-shirt and applied pressure to the wound.

Soldiers enlisting in the Army and Corps of Engineers Civilians expect to see action and hope to do their part in team efforts to bring about heroic outcomes, especially in Louisiana hurricane recovery operations.

But no one, Megan included, expects to be a hero outside one’s apartment door adjacent to the New Orleans French Quarter, and there was no thought of that now. She thought only of her task at hand, she said.

“I was so calm,” she recalled. “I told people what I needed; I didn’t think of anything else—I was on auto-pilot. I thought only of getting the wound covered.”
She asked for a knife to cut the victim’s shirt off. A bartender arrived with the knife. Another bartender responded with towels when Megan asked for another shirt and wrapped the victim’s finger with towels; the finger was nearly severed and hanging, apparently from another gunshot wound. Megan found two more gunshot wounds on his arm.

“I had to keep him alert,” she said. “I touched his face. I asked him his name and told him mine. He was going into shock and I told him, ‘Keep talking to me.’”
“I’m not going nowhere,” responded the victim, who had been working nearby as a dishwasher.

“The police arrived and cleared everyone out,” Megan said. “I just kept talking and applying pressure to the wound.”

Then paramedics arrived and took over, checking the man’s vital signs. The persistent Soldier told them of her Army first aid training and assisted them in putting the man on a backboard. Shortly after, she learned of two more victims, one whose forehead was grazed with a bullet; another who ultimately died, apparently of blood lost from an arterial leg wound.

Megan’s supervisor, 1st Sgt. Micchicco Thompson, learned of the life-saving incident at 8:30 p.m., about an hour afterward, and learned more about Megan’s first aid training that she received two years ago when she was close to being mobilized.

“We got the training knowing at some point we may have to care for someone and be put in a stressful situation,” she said. She practiced her training during refresher sessions at subsequent Reserve drills.

“I was so excited for her,” the first sergeant said, and added that she wrote up a citation recognizing Megan for using her Army skills.

As for Megan, she recalled, “I was calm and clearheaded in the middle of the action, but when I got back to my apartment and realized how much blood I had all over me, I broke down—I lost it.” A telephone conversation with one of her sergeants resulted in her regaining her composure.

The Soldier was nearing the end of her Louisiana tour, ready to return to her unit, the 360th Medical Company in Strongsville, Ohio. She has nearly completed a degree in psychology and wants to go to law school.

Before departing, she had to take care of some unfinished business.
Coming in contact with so much blood and noticing a small cut on her hand, she went to the nearby Navy base the next day for tests. The victim was tested, as well, where he was treated.

All tests came out negative, the specialist said.

She paused a moment to tell of her work in demolition quality assurance at the St. Charles Field Office, making sure power lines were dropped, air conditioning units removed, safety issues addressed, load tickets written and checklists followed.
“The best days are when people come and thank you for the demolition work you did for them,” she said. “It makes you feel really good.”

But there were other days.

“The worst day…” she said with tears welling up, “…was when an older lady in her 60s showed me water-damaged pictures of memories in her parents’ house—the house we were tearing down—a house where her mother was always cooking and keeping it so clean. She was upset, and it was so sad, but she knew it had to be done.”

After telling her story, the specialist began processing out and returned to the scene of the crime and her apartment to pack it in.

She had her ticket home, but not without a knapsack jam-packed with heroic feats and adventures.

Memories she’ll never forget.

Mississippi - Green Bay Packers Brett Favre's home