THE PALM SUNDAY TORNADOES

Today marks the 49^th anniversary since, what became known as the Palm Sunday Tornadoes, occurred in my home town.  I rarely talk about this but my local hometown newspaper has asked that people who experienced the tornadoes share some memories. The following is my account of that day.

It was a beautifully warm day.  I had dared to put on shorts that early in spring in Northern Indiana.  I was still outside late in the afternoon playing some basketball with friends as we did nearly every chance we had from the time we could walk.  I was sixteen, happy, carefree and ready for whatever life had to offer.

Our neighbor came to the fence and told us to go inside because he saw on TV that strong storms were on the way.  It seemed odd since there was not a cloud in the sky.  But, we all went our separate ways to go home and watch TV.  My dad and I had just settled down on the couch to check the weather when, once again, our neighbor came over.  He was out of breath and seemed oddly excited.  He had just heard on his police radio that a tornado had gone through a section of town just south of the city.  He said they needed station wagons to help transport people to the hospital.  I know how odd that sounds but that was a different time.

We had a large station wagon and my dad and I were ready to go.  Looking back, I know for sure that we never considered the drama we were so ready to involve ourselves in.  He wanted me to drive.  I was surprised since I had only gotten my license six months before.  But off we went.  We drove East and then South toward the area we thought would take us close. But about halfway there the weather turned into an angry, raging torrent. It was pitch black with frighteningly loud rain.  I could see nothing so I pulled off on the side of the road and waited.  Shortly, it became eerily calm.  We assumed it was just another storm.  So off we went to see if we could locate where that tornado came through.  As we drove a little further, we came up on an area of unspeakable devastation.  There were no ambulances, no police cars and no fire trucks.  Nothing.  Only silence.  I pulled off the road and glanced up a slowly rising hill to view nothing but wood planks everywhere.  Dad jumped out of the car and ran over to a man he saw sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around a telephone pole.  I walked over to him too and he was gasping for air.  We realized that he was so covered in mud that his skin could not breathe.  We brushed heaps of wet muck off him.  That seemed to help.  I could hear some faint voices up the hill.  They were calls for help and children crying. That’s when I realized that we were the first people to arrive in the area.  I told dad that there must have been a second tornado because this had just happened.  Emergency vehicles began arriving and dad stayed with the man we had helped when they took him to an ambulance.  I was asked by a young fireman to help him search for victims.  We searched house-to-house which were nothing but rubble.  We were looking, listening and pulling out people from their hiding places. Suffice to say, the next couple of hours were terrifying, gratifying and life altering for me.  I would climb down into basements open to the sky but so strewn with lumber and furniture that you would never think anyone could be down there . . . and alive.  But they were.  Most of my time walking up the street with the fireman, climbing over the rubble and training flashlights through the slightest cracks were fruitless ventures.  But then we would find someone.  Tears would well up in our eyes as we screamed for emergency people and threw lumber out of the way.  

My dad found me later sitting on a stump, no longer able to help.  My brain just shut down.  I couldn't look for or look at any more people, dead or alive. We put our arms around each other and walked slowly back to the car. We just got in our car and drove home in a peaceful quietness that we both needed badly.

As it turned out, we had driven up on the secondary access road to what is called The Sunnyside Edition. A massive “double” category 4 tornado had passed directly over that
area.  Apparently when I had to pull off the road and wait for the storm, the big one hit.  So, all-in-all, the same general area of my hometown was hit by four tornadoes that night.  I would guess we arrived no more than 5 minutes after it had passed. 

So . . .that’s it.  For a few days after, I had trouble sleeping.  But as a teenager, I was pretty resilient. However, I carry many visions with me of that night that are mine and mine alone.  The stories that came out of the Palm Sunday Tornadoes have been told through the years in my hometown.  Now you know my story. 

This famous picture shows the two tornadoes forming out of one massive cloud.  

This is an aerial view of the Sunnyside Subdivision where I was involved in search and rescue. 

This is typical of what they found when the sun came up the next morning.

Here is a link to information on The Palm Sunday Tornadoes: http://www.elkharttruth.com/living/Community-Blogs/Elkhart-County-History/2014/04/11/This-Day-In-History-The-Palm-Sunday-Tornadoes.html