This year marks the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s unwelcomed arrival onto U.S. shores that caused one of the wickedest hurricane disasters to hammer the United States.

And Katrina was the Wicked Witch.

She entered the Gulf of Mexico (sic) as a Category 3 hurricane on August 26th, 2005, after kissing southern Florida. She rapidly increased intensity to a Cat. 5 storm and headed straight for New Orleans. By the time the Witch hit landfall at Buras-Triumph, Louisiana on August 28, she had decreased again to a Cat. 3 hurricane.

Phew. Seemed the kind folk of New Orleans dodged the Witch. But as New Orleans sipped morning coffee on the 29th, Katrina’s wrath was consummated. The infamous levees, those dirt/concrete dikes allowing New Orleans to exist below sea level for decades, had breached. The floodgates, literally, were opened.

I took this photo of the flooded Ninth Ward a week later while strapped in a Blackhawk helicopter provided by the U.S. military. I was a member of the Disaster Assistance Response Team (DART) deployed by the now-deceased United States Agency for International Development.

Wait just a doggone minute there, Buckaroo. The DART was created by law to deploy for international disaster responses only. It was neither designed, nor delegated, for responses on U.S. territory.

Until Katrina.

The Wicked Witch was not only the worst natural disaster in U.S. memory, she also loaned her name to probably the worst disaster response conducted by the U.S. Government. If you don’t remember this train wreck, do the Google. Or just believe me. I was there.

This story begins on August 29th, when the aftermath of the breeched levees played out on news broadcasts worldwide.  Dozens of sympathetic foreign governments contacted the State Department with offers of assistance.

“Let us help you.”

They were politely dismissed. “Thank you very much,” was the answer. “But we got this.”

It took two days for that posture to fold. By September 2nd, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice inaccurately stated that the U.S. had turned down “no offers of assistance” and by September 4th had formally requested international assistance. Please, bring it.

So they did. All good.

Except, it wasn’t. The blame for this gaff wasn’t necessarily on Secretary Rice, though she admitted later that she should have “known better” in her handling of the disaster. No, there was plenty of blame to go around that oval table. Fact is, without proper planning, procedures, or laws to accept foreign assistance entering the U.S., how does one successfully manage the chaos of unexpected and unnecessary humanitarian goods?

Answer is: You don’t.

What you do is send in a DART. Let the DART manage the clown show.

So off we went, all two of us. We flew to Shreveport, the only open airfield available in southern Louisiana, rented a vehicle and drove to Baton Rouge where FEMA organized an operations center in an abandoned shopping mall. We met other DART members arriving from DC and found camping space for our tents on the Louisiana State Troopers’ headquarters back lawn.

We are ready, baby. Let the aid roll in.

The country of Poland was first in the donor queue, and we were very excited about their donation of large tents. Adequate shelter was critical and tents were in demand. But when we received the tents at the just-opened Baton Rouge airport, we quietly pushed them aside. Indeed, they were tents - World War II vintage U.S. army tents that we apparently gave to the Polish army after the war. Odłożyć coś na półkę comes to mind. That’s Polish for mothballed.

Next up, China. Portable generators. We needed generators for sure and were grateful to the Chinese people. Turns out they did not work in the United States as they were 220V/50 HZ instead of 120V/60 HZ and the plugs did not fit our outlets. Needed adapters. That’s ok, Chairman Jintao. Keep swinging.

Mexico was very bighearted. They sent a 20-person team of their best search and rescue professionals equipped to the nines. Unfortunately, the search and rescue phase of the response was over, and we were now in the recovery phase. Lo siento, compadres. The Mexican team captain was not happy. He refused to go home until they helped us. I eventually relented, but informed him that their bright orange jump suits were the exact color worn by hundreds of escaped Louisiana prisoners terrorizing the countryside. The captain and his team departed for home early the next morning.

Thailand was extremely considerate. They sent us their preeminent forensic scientist, Dr. Porntip Rojanasunan (No, I am not making that name up.), and her personal assistant/photographer. In Thailand, they call her “Dr. Death” due to her extensive forensic work with corpses. Despite her celebrity status and purple mohawk, we could not let her touch any bodies. I did take her to dinner though and they have a large photographic journal somewhere of their evening adventure in Baton Rouge with their handsome American escort.

Spain sent MREs (Meals Ready to Eat). We delivered the MREs by the thousands until USDA discovered some of the packages included a meat product. Any meat product entering the United States had to be inspected. USDA insisted we recall the MREs and retrieve the food from hungry families for inspection. That message soon became as garbled a pub song in Edenborough.

France also sent MREs. They included a small bottle of French wine and two cigarettes. Of course they did. This caused a bigger outrage than the Spanish beef. Off to the side of the tarmac went the French MREs because of a shot of wine and two smokes.

You get the picture?

The very generous offers of assistance from our international friends were well-intended if not unique. But the tragedy of Katrina’s victims, and the lack of preparedness by those who should have known better, was no joke.

It is now twenty years on. Ask yourself, are we now prepared for the next Wicked Witch?