The Day I Compromised the Unified Area Command

Today I had one of the biggest breaks of my journalism career thus far. Right when I got to the office at the Telegraph, Dennis gave me an important assignment. He pulled out a press release from Rod Blagojevich that described how he (the governor) wanted to establish a second Unified Area Command in the Metro East area, especially as floodwaters were moving down the Mississippi River. Dennis told me that he wanted me to rush off to the Alton Mental Health Center campus, where the National Guard and some Illinois state officials were camping out for the duration of the flooding. So, I called up my mommy (that’s right, I don’t have my own car at this point. Rather pathetic, if you ask me) and got her to re-pick me up. She drove me straight over to the Willow building—where Hurricane Katrina victims used to stay--and nervously dropped me off. She had to take my sisters to their summer class, and she didn't know how late I'd be.

I shut the door and walked as confidently as possible toward the three-story building. Despite the rather large crowd of fatigued-airmen and soldiers congregrating beside towering HumVees and 1008 A (can't remember if that's what it's called, Aaron!) jungle trucks, I felt like I knew what I was doing. I walked past the yellow tape that read "KEEP OUT" and past a group of barricades. The "guards" gave me a once-over, but I think they had other things in mind aside from arresting me, to be frank. A pair of official-looking civilians were talking together in the middle of the cracked parking lot, so I walked up to them and asked where the main office was. They gave me a peculiar look and pointed toward the inside of the Willow building. I nodded and continued to look straight ahead, perfecting in my mind the serious look upon my face.

When I got inside, I found myself going down a long hallway that was flanked by a rooms. The first room was pretty large, with tables in a circular formation. It reminded me of something you would see in an old James Bond movie--these official looking personnel slumping in chairs, one hand on a telephone and one draped across a notepad. Each telephone and designated chair had a sign: IDOT, IEPA, ING...the abbreviations were extensive.

I kept on walking down the hall, noting all the Guardsmen filing through with their gear in packs. Eventually I ran into a woman and a man dressed in civilian clothes. I stopped them and said, "Hi, I'm Sarah Groneck from the Alton Telegraph..."

Immediately, the woman rolled her eyes. Her mouth dropped open before she said, "How did you get in here? We've been here for like forty minutes and the reporters are already creeping in here..."

I shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. She just stared at me for a little longer before saying, "Oh, come with me. I'll take you to Maggie."

I followed the woman back into the phone room and over to a woman with dark red hair. "Maggie," said the irritated lady, "Some girl from the Alton Telegraph is here. I don't know how the hell the press got word of this already..."

Maggie looked at me and then back at the other woman. "Oh, okay, thanks," she said. She turned to me and said, "How can I help you?"

I introduced myself as Maggie walked me back out to the parking lot. "Well, we just got activated at 9:00, so I don't know how much information I can give to you at this time but I'll try."

I checked my phone. It was about 9:30. Score one for the novice reporter!

Maggie ended up being from the Environmental Protection Agency. She answered all my questions as thoroughly as she could, telling me that they were mostly working as liaisons between the American Red Cross, IDOT, Illinois State Police, etc. to help with the flooding problem.

In the end, of course, I was stuck. Literally. Mom was probably five minutes from home by then, and I couldn't exactly walk to downtown Alton from the Mental Health Center. They'd probably lock me up for that. So, I pretended to write my article right there, taking notes about the machinery and the building state.

Meanwhile, the soldiers I'd passed on the way in--the group odf four that let me get past the tape that read "KEEP OUT"--were still standing beneath a tree. After about ten minutes of fighting with myself as to whether or not I should speak with them, I did. I waltzed up to those big, brawny men in uniform and said rather seriously, "I'm from the Alton Telegraph and I was wondering if I could get an interview with one of you guys."

The men snickered before pushing forward Senior Master Sargent Miller. He smiled at me with his big blue-green eyes and his boyish grin and his outfit and I got intimidated. As I do with most good-looking guys, I just looked at my paper and took up notes as fast as he could spit them out. Even though Maggie interrupted it before I could actually talk to the man, I still say it was a successful convo. At least for my interview.

I then walked down to the military equipment, scouting out the HumVees and the trucks. By then, Mom pulled up with my less-than-pleased sisters in tow.

I hopped in the car before any of the military officials could see that this seemingly mature reporter with her pink high heels--extremely inappropriate for the locale; if only I'd known where I'd be going today!--being driven away with three other women as body guards. But no matter--I was successful in slipping by the military unnoticed today and clinching the first media interview at the center. And that's enough success for my day.