CATASTROPHE: Hell in the Highlands

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Sloping up from the narrow Atlantic coastal plain, the Eastern U.S. rears abruptly in the great earth-wrinkles of the Appalachian Highlands, stretching northeast to southwest from New England to Alabama. When early U. S. settlers pushed out from the coast into this rugged region, they built their towns, for purposes of commerce, on the narrow-valleyed rivers which flow east from the Appalachian slopes into the Atlantic, west into the Gulf of Mexico or Great Lakes. Power from these rivers helped make the northern Highlands the great manufacturing region of the U. S., where dwell 28% of the nation's population in 5% of its area. But in many & many a spring the friendly rivers have turned into roaring engines of destruction, wiped out what they had—helped men to build.

Last fortnight hard rains scattered spring freshets throughout New England, New York, New Jersey. Last week a huge low-pressure centre, heavy with moisture from the Gulf, formed over Texas, moved slowly northeast over the Appalachian Highlands. The moisture cooled, fell in torrents on a land just emerging from one of its severest winters on record. Its hillsides were blanketed with wet snow, its streams and rivers jammed with thawing ice. The soil was deep-frozen, rock-hard. . The melting rains coursed off the Appalachian hillsides as if they had been sloping tin roofs. Monstrously gorged rivers roared like millraces, burst their narrow channels. From Maine to Kentucky a vast, swirling chaos enveloped the valley towns and cities.

As the rampant rivers tossed off their bridges, gulped in railway roadbeds, swamped highways, transportation throughout the region was practically at a standstill. Railroads canceled many a train, sent others chugging cautiously over competitors' tracks. Hardest hit was the Pennsylvania, whose four-track main line cuts through the heart of the Alleghenies. Pennsylvania canceled all service on its own tracks west of Lancaster, Pa. The last break, near Altoona, Pa., was not repaired and through service resumed until three days later. B. & O. stopped all trains west of Washington.

Most bus lines had quit cold. Air lines put all available planes into service, worked overtime flying passengers, mail and freight between Newark and Pittsburgh. One TWA plane carried nearly a ton of rubber boots, another some 5,000 telegrams. But even airplanes were forced to quit at night when electric power failures put airport lights and radio beacons out of commission.

American Telephone & Telegraph, Western Union and Postal Telegraph rushed armies of troubleshooters into the field to unscramble their wrecked wires and poles. After 24 hours A. T. & T. reported more than 351,000 telephones still dead. Newspaper plants were awash; broadcasting stations went silent for lack of power as operators scampered to higher ground (see p. 59). Hampered in their movements, forced to guess wildly at the extent of death and damage, overwhelmed newshawks sent reports marked by the breadth and sweep of war dispatches.