 Shake in at Gemini 5, on stage 2. The air was fair at Cape Kennedy, lacy clouds in a warm, august sky, as Gemini 5 took off for space, where there is no weather at all. The only problem, a leaky fuel cell threatening to cut their flight short at the start. It didn't. But out in the Atlantic, something else was brewing. A rising breath of wind, soon to be known as Betsy. Just 27. At Florida and island bases, Navy, Weather Bureau and Air Force Plains are warming up to their daily tasks. 180 miles overhead, Gemini 5 is whirling around the world in its sixth day of work. The astronauts are still alone in space, but not quite alone. From the first day on, they've been sharing the sky with Tyros' weather satellites, circling endlessly, clicking their pictures back to Earth. On the 27th, both Tyros' 10 and a Navy weather plane make a discovery. Tropical depression at 13 degrees north latitude. The astronauts see it next. Same day, hurricanes born, and christened Betsy. And in two places, the new spells trouble. The National Hurricane Center in Miami, where Chief Forecaster Gordon Dunn is checking first reports, and Houston Control for the space flight, scheduled to splash down Sunday, right in the path of the storm. Dimm of Betsy, Gemini 5. Its eight-day flight is cut one orbit short. The landing hurry has changed. Cooper and Conrad splash down safely into a sunny seal. Betsy wanders north toward the Bahamas. In Nassau, American tourists are pouring off the Yarmouth Castle on a final fling, sightseeing, souvenirs, shopping. And in the native churches, only a few bother to give thanks that another hurricane's passed them by, as Betsy swings by safely to the east, heading north toward Cape Hatteras. Florida relaxes too. The start of Labor Day weekend, a time for sea and sun. The hurricane hunters, it's no holiday at all. In 10 days now, Betsy's already traveled 2,000 miles, past Barbados and the Grenadines, the windward and leeward islands, skirting Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Bahamas. Now 300 miles north, she runs into westerly trade winds, does a lazy loop-to-loop, then stalls. Probable course, still north and west toward Hatteras, New Jersey, or New England. But bad news wherever it hits. By now, it's packing 125 mile-an-hour winds, swirling around an enormous eye. Only on Sunday night, Betsy runs head-on into a high-pressure ridge, turns into a Yankee hurricane, traveling south and coming fast back toward the Bahamas. Monday night, the wall cloud rips over the out islands and into Nassau, grinding and tearing at the town for nearly 15 hours. Then it turns toward the mainland. Hurricane flags are flying now from Key West to Cape Kennedy. I've gone free-effective, beginning on 700 hours. In Miami, the county's civil defense emergency operating center, designed to direct government services in either natural disaster or enemy attack. All forces have been on emergency alert since early Labor Day morning. Small craft warning, winds may reach hurricane force and squalls by early Tuesday evening. All vessels in the area of hurricane display should seek safe harbor. For the first time in local history, weather bureau warns that Key Biscayne and Miami Beach will be underwater. Residents are advised to get out now. All groceries, hardware stores and lumber yards now closed for the holiday are urgently requested to reopen so the public can lay in food and emergency supplies. If you're boarding up, be sure to use strong lumber and nails securely. Check trees and shrubbery, remove coconuts from nearby palm trees. As advanced winds begin to come in, but on the beaches, youngsters are finding the best surfing since Hurricane Carol for winds for the skateboard sailors too. Not so good for last-minute choppers. Winds have turned to driving rains. At Miami International Airport, normally one of the busiest in the world, the last bird of passage has flown. Workers are still tying down traffic lights, making other last-minute preparations. All storm shelters, repeat, all storm shelters are now open. If you feel that your home is insecure, then go to your nearest Red Cross emergency shelter. Gale Force winds are striking now from Palm Beach to the tip of the Keys. In the six counties of Southern Florida, more than 18,000 people are crowded into the Red Cross shelters, just waiting for it to happen. Guests now topping 100 miles per hour, tides three feet above normal in the greater Miami area, and escape routes will be cut off shortly. Along Miami Beach, water's already pouring over the welcome mats. Our mobile unit has just reported fish swimming down Collins Avenue. Fish and eel swimming right down the main drag of Miami Beach. State Route 5 is passable to Halem Ross, washed out into two places. A long night for civil defense. Now, all the dull, quiet things done over the years, every hurricane drills, the planning and preparation for any kind of disaster. The coordinated efforts of all the government and voluntary agencies are finally paying off. 740 Northwest 8-2 Street, roof blown off a house. There are injuries. Southern hotels on Beach badly damaged. Some three degrees. Several health lines. Winds is on the Florida mainland. She is also on Key Largo. At dawn, the eye of the hurricane crosses Key Largo, heading west. And so will calls for help. Flooding in the Arvita Parkway area, you need some amphibious ducks. Right, are there any injuries involved? Only evacuation. Engine 8 to Southwest 5th Avenue and 3rd, four families. As Betsy blows by Florida, she leaves her mark behind. Damage, around 140 million. Several dead. 4,000 homes wrecked or flooded out. Plus smaller losses. On Riviera Beach, a bigger whale's been grounded. A foreign freighter driving in blindly through the night. The Yarmouth Castle's been a little luckier. The Bahamas cruise ship has ridden out the storm at sea and put back safely into Miami next morning. She'll sail another day. The hurricane roars on, still hunting for land. And 900 miles of coastline is on the coastline. And 900 miles of coastline ahead to choose from. All the way to Texas, where the astronauts are safely home, but beginning to wonder if they're being followed. But early Wednesday morning, Hurricane Betsy is taking a more northwesterly turn and is now heading directly for the Louisiana coast. New Orleans Weather Bureau picks it up now and warnings go out from civil events in the state capital at Baton Rouge. Flying coastal areas should be evacuated early today. Before escape routes are cut off by rising waters. Offshore oil rakes are abandoned. Ships head into port. Cars come streaming up from the Delta. A quarter of a million refugees, many of them heading for New Orleans. New Orleans itself, there's literally no place to go. It's surrounded by river, lake, and swamp land. So, the town boards up and batons down in the shelter of its levies. Already its civil defense emergency operating center is manned by nearly 200 people, representing all the city's emergency services. Near dusk, Mayor Victor Skiro comes down the stairs to hear disturbing news. No stations, be advised that extremely dangerous Betsy is headed toward New Orleans. Just south, Lake Pontchartrain, as strong north winds force water into the sea water. Chief, we are expecting 12 feet of water in this area over the lakefront. Charlie Urdman, the city's civil defense director. What about our preparations in this area? No, I would suggest this, that we move, evacuate these people from this parish line to the wrigglies and from the lakefront to Florida Avenue. Lake Pontchartrain, the huge shallow treacherous lake lying just north of New Orleans. If the eye passes east of the city, the hurricane's counterclockwise winds make clear over the levee. The mayor's warning goes out. Now we are providing buses. If you look out on the West End Boulevard, Pontchartrain Boulevard, you'll find public service buses. In one place particularly, the news strikes home. The Barrios home on Windgate Drive, just a few blocks south of the lakefront. For nearly six years now, Gene Barrios has been half paralyzed by polio, dividing his days and nights between an iron lung and a rocking bed. Both needed nearly every minute of the day to keep the breath of life in his body. If hurricane winds knock out the power lines, the equipment will stop. Or if water starts pouring over the levee, you'll have no chance of a ski. Let me talk to Henry a minute. Yeah. Mrs. Barrios, calling her brothers for help. Hello, Henry. Listen, this is my moment. I have to get out of some way of getting old. Gene to the hospital this afternoon, and I was wondering if you and maybe one of the other boys would help, you know? No, as soon as possible. Yeah, well, that'll be okay as soon as it gets home from work, but I want you to hurry up now because it's important. Other distress calls are beginning to pour into the emergency operating center. You need registered nurses. You want any available for duty tonight to report to 2000 Tulane Avenue. You need gasoline? You are providing buses? You are providing buses? All right. We'll try to get you 50 gallons. You mean your wife's having a baby right now? Can't you get her to a hospital? No, no, hold on. We'll get a doctor on the line. The doctor's Rodney Jung, the city health director, being called on to tell a frightened young father how to deliver his very first baby without training or forces or fading. Too late, under rising winds, the phone line's already gone dead and growing short. After a great drive, Mona Berrios is getting her husband ready for the trip to the hospital. Out of the bed and into the wheelchair, getting him dressed and worrying over what's keeping her brothers. When will they get off work and get here? Finally, time to go out toward the door and then goodbyes to Cindy, the baby of the family, his sons and his wife. To escape the flood, we have to go to the apartment in another safer part of town, the Gentile section in the southeast quarter of New Orleans. Jean is heading for Charity Hospital, closes up Bourbon Street tighter than an 8 o'clock curfew and unpredictable to the very last, she veers again. The 930 Weather Bureau bulletin says the eye may now pass west of the city instead of east. A last-minute reprieve for the lakefront area, probably bad news somewhere else. You heard anything about that woman in labor? No, sir. News elsewhere. As the hurricane comes sweeping up the delta, staying on the moose or the greater part of it must be right here, right now. In 46, all power fails at the New Orleans Weather Bureau and the wind gauge blows off the roof. Falling trees are knocking out telephone lines all over town, but not till Dr. Jung finally gets the word he's been waiting for. Oh, Dr. Jung, that woman you were worried about had her baby and both are doing well. Betsy's overwhelming the city. Gusts are reaching 150 miles an hour, and all the church bells in town are tolling wildly in the winds. In the state emergency operating center, Governor John McKithen and his staff, disaster coordinator Leon Gary and civil defense director Marshall Capow are working with Red Cross Public Health and Salvation Army. The welfare groups and National Guard. Emergency calls are pouring in from all over the state, including one from National Guard headquarters at New Orleans. Jackson Barracks, is that rude? That rude. Jackson Barracks. You're kidding. No one's kidding. Betsy's bringing in danger from a totally unexpected quarter. Her winds are pushing a 16-foot wall of water out of Lake Bourne and the Gulf, the greatest title in Louisiana history, sweeping over the Delta, Plaquemines Parish, St. Bernard, topping the highest levees, roaring across the industrial canal into the southeast section of New Orleans. No one knows the full size of the disaster yet. In Betsy's wake, there's only darkness, confusion and death. Daybreak and devastation and the church bells are quiet now. Hurricane winds have done their worst. The title surge has topped them. The fatality list is as follows. 25-year-old Mrs. Joanne Mayu, her body was found in the Franklin Avenue ditch. She was swept away by floodwaters in the flooded area. People are still being pulled off roofs and out of the water. Another small dunker. I saw just a big wave coming right at the house. It looked like it's taller than the house. The heart of my husband and he ran my brother called. Thank God he got the last call through and he screamed, tell him to get out. The levee broke. Well, we swam down the apartment. It was flooded to the second floor and they lifted us into the boat. The water was coming that high. Another 25,000 refugees to swamp already overcrowded shelters. Well, thank God you got a job by golly. Well, you seem pretty happy I got my full practice possessions out, my children. You ever seen anything like this before? Never seen anything like this before, and I hope I never see it again. My children are singing down at my sister-in-law's. You gonna want to bring them in here? It's that bad. By mid-afternoon the presidential plane is on its way from Washington. Swinging out over the gulf, then up the delta following Betsy's trail of destruction. Grand Isle with the hurricane first made landfall. Nothing left. Up the Mississippi, houses swept five miles from their front door steps. Levees strewn with battered ships and barges, more than 450 beached or sunk. And missing near Baton Rouge somewhere on the river bottom in Mississippi mud, barge MTC 602 laden with 600 tons of deadly liquid chlorine enough to produce more poison gas than both sides used in all of World War I. And much more than enough to wipe out Baton Rouge. At five o'clock Air Force One lands at New Orleans bringing the president his aides and leaders of the Louisiana congressional delegation to survey the damage. See what needs to be done. In one old grade school near the industrial canal not meant for use as a shelter at all they find 3,000 refugees from the flood and only four young volunteers on hand to help. How much training have you had for this type of work? About 15 minutes I guess. The president declares Louisiana and Florida both disaster areas tells the office of emergency planning to coordinate federal assistance. More than a million 200,000 people from nearly every agency of the national government will be involved. Down the Delta loads are flooded out. But 2,500 National Guardsmen come in by river steamer to begin rescue operations. Coast Guard helicopters are flying more than 2,000 missions. The military choppers are matching them. Red Cross is flying in staff from all over the country. And with them to help in this overwhelming task come hundreds of health and welfare workers on loan from other states and cities the other voluntary agencies. Captain Ward of the Salvation Army has placed an urgent request for providing of any kind especially children's clothing, blankets, diapers food and money to purchase clothing. A refugee city is being created at the Algiers Navy facility. More than 12,000 people will be bedded down, fed and cared for at the Algiers Naval Station by nightfall. The army is providing fear kitchens, bedding and latrines. And the Red Cross is providing the transportation to these evacuees. Officials of Plackamon Parish have requested that all persons entering Plackamon Parish by boat must stop at Belle Chase School for typhoid shots. And typhoid shots are necessary due to a large amount of dead animals in the area. Charity hospital is in dire need of blood. Blood donors can give blood at Charity Hospital anytime from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. The clinics will be closed and there will be no visiting hours at Charity Hospital. No visitors and no word at all will tell Jean Barrios if his family is even alive. But in the gently section the phone lines are down. The water is still up, lapping at the door sills. For three straight days the whole Barrios clan has been marooned in a small first floor apartment short on food and short on room. Eight adults and fourteen little monsters with nothing else to do with their time. Children! But reliefs in sight. She's finally blown itself out. She's down to rainstorm intensity now and is heading northeast through Tennessee toward New York. And I hope it still has enough rain in it when it gets to New York to help them alleviate their water shortage. And finally the pumps are taking effect. In gentilly at least the water level is falling. And for the first time in four days it's possible for Mona Barrios to get out, call Charity Hospital. After all the worry the family's safe and home tomorrow begins again. People starting all over. Just how bad is it with you? We're down but we're not out. You're not out? What happened to you first? What about your family? They're all safe. We'll rebuild. You don't think this will knock you out? No, indeed. We're going to build a levees higher and have a prettier community. How do you feel about it? Always you want to redecorate. A man who dealt with a dozen major disasters said it. There isn't a city in the world that could handle anything as big as this alone. It's just overwhelming. But there isn't a city in the world that may not face the same sort of thing someday. Major disaster in one form or another and have to be organized to meet it. Using resources from many public and private agencies. And at New Orleans City Hall they're working around the clock and civil government in emergency meeting the needs of its people and problems at once. Welfare assistance for victims of the flood. Locating medical supplies arranging to fly in a civil defense emergency hospital unit. Answering emergency calls for food, water, sanitation equipment for trucks and ducks to handle relief operations. The endless job of cleanup. Fumigation. Inspection. At the civil defense office the coordinating point for this kind of planning the lights burn late. An endless string of coffee cups still no sleep in sight. Betsy's final bill won't be in for months. The chlorine barge near Baton Rouge will take a million dollars to raise. Corps of engineers supervising the salvage job. Army, Red Cross and civil defense evacuating the sick and aged in case anything goes wrong and gas starts sweeping the city. The others can take care of themselves and they do. On November 10th, two months to the day since the hurricane hit they bail out of town in a hurry. But 602 will rise again and so will Louisiana. And Betsy? Long gone. After 16 days and 3,000 miles whistling out through the woods of northern Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee to die next day in a simple whirl of dust. The danger over at last. Till the next one comes along.