Panic and Chaos

The epicenter of the earthquake—the point on the earth’s surface from which the quake waves spread—lay in the densely populated industrial city of Izmit. The earthquake, with a magnitude of 7.8 on the Richter scale, surprised the people in their sleep. One survivor said the tremors were so intense that he had fallen out of his bed. Tens of thousands of people tried to escape unsuccessfully through the stairwells of their eight- to ten-storey flats. Hundreds of people jumped in panic from their balconies and countless others were buried under the rubble of collapsed houses and buildings. Panic and chaos reigned in the darkness of night as the power went out, phone lines were destroyed, and the streets were littered with debris. Everywhere in the dark people screamed and wailed.

Tremendous fires broke out in thirteen large tanks at a major oil refinery near Izmit. For days there was a high explosion risk from the fires and their proximity to chemical plants. The damage in the earthquake area was so extensive because the depth of the earthquake was only about eighteen miles (30 km) below the surface.

Figure 10.33 In a panic, people jumped from balconies, and others were trapped under thick concrete layers in the rubble.

Practiced and Prepared

That morning we listen at 7:00 a.m. to the news and hear the first reports of what happened in Turkey. In the next news bulletins, the dimensions of the disaster become clearer as the number of victims increases dramatically. At 8:00 a.m., a message tells the search and rescue dog group of the Austrian Red Cross to prepare for a possible deployment to Turkey.

Routinely, we perform a rapid check of our always-ready backpacks and other supplies, filling the water jugs and food barrels for our dogs. Our dogs look on curiously. For both our Malinois Speedy and our German Shepherd Tessa, these are not unusual events, because they’ve been on many missions before.

Somewhat later the beeper gives the final message for deployment of our Emergency Response Unit—Search and Rescue (ERU–SAR) of the Red Cross. While our group of fifteen dogs and handlers, along with the care team, are driven to the airport, our thoughts go back to our previous earthquake deployment. Will we meet the same sort of situation? Thanks to the new ERU–SAR setup, we can now respond quickly enough to reach the disaster area in about four hours. Our special reserved plane is ready to go. Our dogs travel with us in the cabin, and each dog even has its own reserved seat. The seats, however, are used for our backpacks, and the dogs settle themselves comfortably on the floor of the plane.

In the Search Area

Three hours later, our plane lands at Istanbul airport, where we are welcomed by a representative of the Turkish Red Cross, the Red Crescent. That man has a bus and truck arranged for transport to the disaster area about sixty miles (90 km) away, as well as some interpreters, so we don’t lose much time. Our search area is Izmit, the epicenter of the earthquake, and our assigned district, Derince, includes the most damaged areas of the town.

In the bus we divide our handlers into groups of three dogs so we can start searching immediately upon arrival. Our first rubble objects lie on the main avenue of Izmit, where multiple six- to eight-storey flats are completely in ruins. The heavy concrete slabs of the floors lie almost against each other, with only small cavities here and there where we might be able to find survivors. With their bare hands relatives are digging in the heavy debris. But where should they search?

Immediately our dogs start to work there, balancing on the difficult rubble, and within minutes we have the first alerts of living people, endorsed by a second dog. At the places where the dogs have alerted, people start screaming into the rubble, but no answer comes back. Are our dogs wrong? Perhaps they are tired from the hectic trip.

Then people begin to take away the heavy debris barriers and we search on at the adjacent rubble cone. Suddenly we hear the work stop and diggers talk excitedly to one another. One has heard voices under the rubble, but in which direction? Our dogs search in the dug-out hollow and, with the same cheerfulness as before, they scratch and bite in the wood and stones in an attempt to remove the rubble. In this way they indicate the direction of further excavation. At one location, this is to the right or left of heavy concrete slabs, but elsewhere the dogs indicate that the workers first have to dig even deeper down.

So we and our dogs toil in the scorching heat of the ruins. The daytime temperature rises to over 95°F (35°C), and where we work in the sunshine is really hot.

Figure 10.34 Our dogs went straight to work and within minutes found the first survivors under the rubble.