Richard Parker is the author of Lone Star Nation: How Texas Will Transform America. He has covered intelligence, the military and three armed conflicts.

Nearly two weeks after Hurricane Maria’s landfall, the Trump administration’s military aid to Puerto Rico may not be too late if it can save lives and ease the suffering of millions. But it is undisputedly arriving in amounts too little and too slowly, in sharp contrast to recent responses around the world and, most recently, elsewhere in the United States during this hurricane season.

Over the past few years, the military has conducted textbook operations in Pakistan, Japan, Thailand and Haiti—pumping in massive amounts of aid after devastating earthquakes and hurricanes in those countries, no matter how rough or isolated the conditions. Just weeks ago, the military response to Hurricane Harvey in Texas was rapid and powerful. In preparation for Hurricane Irma, the Trump administration again ordered up an extensive military relief operation.


But when Hurricane Maria struck at full strength several days later—precisely as advertised, and similar in scale to Harvey—the U.S. military simply called off the huge resources it had mustered for Hurricane Irma. An inadequately small military contingent was left on its own for nearly two weeks to help with the damage. If there was a plan for disaster relief it was not publicly apparent. And on-scene commander—crucial in crises this large—was not appointed until nearly 10 days after landfall.



No less an authority than the three-star general who reversed the disastrous initial federal response to Hurricane Katrina back in 2005, retired Army Lieutenant General Russel Honoré, said as much. “We’re replaying a scene from Katrina,” he said on NPR about Maria on Thursday. “We started moving about four days too late.” That seems overly generous.



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The voyage of the Amphibious Ready Group (ARG) led by the assault vessel USS Kearsarge helps tell the tale quite starkly. I know the Kearsarge personally; she was my salty, floating home away from home during the spring of 1999, when I covered the Kosovo War.

The Kearsarge might be impressive, but it’s important not to overestimate it and the other ships in the group, Wasp and Oak Hill. An amphibious ready group such as this is designed to project a comparatively small amount of power—there are only about 2,400 Marines and a relative handful of aircraft aboard—with stunning precision and speed. It is neither meant to fight a whole war alone nor save millions of people on its own.

On August 31, the Kearsarge and company headed for the Texas Gulf Coast—six full days after Hurricane Harvey made its own devastating landfall. That might seem late, but the saving grace, of course, was that other military assets reached Texas first.

Indeed, Hurricane Harvey in Houston provided a preview of how the military normally responds to humanitarian disasters. Within six days, military search and rescue filled the skies, as HH-60s flew overhead while C-130s and 17 giant C-17 and two C-5 cargo planes from as far away as Utah and New York, ferried in supplies—despite closed civilian airports. The Coast Guard alone flew in 42 helicopters and seven cargo planes. Medical patients were evacuated to San Antonio. The U.S. Northern Command sent nearly 70 more helicopters. Over 6,000 active duty troops arrived along with 5,000 and then 6,000 more members of the Texas National Guard, maneuvering in nearly 300 high-water trucks, Chinook helicopters and boats.

With Hurricane Irma ominously approaching Florida, the Kearsarge and company turned east. The military’s preparations for Irma were as awesome in their scale as they had been for Harvey. Some 8,000 troops of the Florida National Guard were not only activated but, like a wartime army, maneuvered across the state as Irma craftily perplexed forecasters as to where, precisely, it would strike. Other states pitched in thousands of additional guard troops. (All of this information is drawn from Northern Command’s and other public military statements.)



At sea and in the air the response built up like a clenched fist. The Kearsarge amphibious group was not only on its way but the carrier USS Abraham Lincoln made for the Keys with the support vessels USS Iowa Jima, New York and San Jacinto. And much of the entire helicopter aviation brigade of the fabled 101st Airborne Division—the world’s largest helicopter army—prepared to deploy, packing its choppers into C-5 cargo planes.

The Air Force readied what’s known as an air bridge: A continual flow of big C-17, C-5 and C-130 cargo planes. A U.S. military air bridge can move entire divisions—tanks, 10,000 troops, equipment and all—into combat halfway around the world overnight. This time, though, it would carry 14 million meals, water, fuel and equipment. Indeed, because of the overwhelming response, the Kearsarge was freed up to ferry British marines into the hard-hit British Virgin Islands.

But then Irma struck the Keys, spared Miami and spent itself bouncing up Florida’s west coast. And suddenly, the Kearsarge’s group was sailing alone into the Caribbean. It and its sister vessels headed to Dominica to evacuate that devastated island. Wasp stayed, peeled off to the U.S. Southern Command, as the rest of the group headed for Puerto Rico, arriving the day after Maria roared across it and the neighboring U.S. Virgin Islands. Kearsarge and Oak Hill were left to put a small advance party ashore in Puerto Rico to assess the situation the day after the storm and set up air traffic control. Helicopter search and rescue operations were launched and supplies were ferried ashore.

And everything else? Vanished. The Lincoln and other vessels left their posts in Florida turned back north. After dropping off fresh water in Florida, the Lincoln turned north and made port in Virginia by September 15. National Guard units returned home. The air armada of what would have been hundreds of aircraft and helicopters bound for Irma never appeared after Maria. An Army photographer captured the 101st offloading its helicopters from the C-5s in the dark, even as Maria approached.



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In Washington, the president has given himself and his administration “A-pluses” for their response to Maria, claiming his administration is “doing a very good job.” At the same, time, the military leadership has come off as brutally slow and suspiciously defensive. For example, testifying on Capitol Hill last Tuesday, General Joseph Dunford, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, reportedly squawked that the ports and airports weren’t readily accessible.

Maybe not. A relatively small number of military flights—three to six daily until recently—landed at the international airport in the capital, San Juan, which also serves as the main air base for the Puerto Rican National Guard. Now, those numbers of flights are to ramp up to 10 daily. And yes, the vast majority of old military facilities in the American commonwealth are shuttered.

Yet there are 15 airports or airfields in Puerto Rico, including on the smaller and remote islands of Culebra and Vieques. The Culebra airport is short but big enough for large helicopters. The Vieques airport has a runway 4,300 feet long. That’s plenty big enough for a C-130, which needs a runway just 3,000 feet in length and 60 feet in width, according to the Defense Technical Information Center. The U.S. Coast Guard, a far smaller service, has reportedly been ferrying water and food via air into the airport there; if the limited air assets of the Coast Guard can make it, it stands to reason that the Air Force and Navy can, too.



On Wednesday, by the Pentagon’s own count, nine airports in Puerto Rico were open. Only Thursday did the Northern Command announce that it was “adjusting” from a small seaborne operation to a larger airlift, emphasizing big cargo planes. Three harbors in Puerto Rico and eight in the Virgin Islands were serviceable to one degree or another, according to the military.

And yet in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands, American citizens are waiting for the USNS Comfort hospital ship, which won’t arrive until next week. Ten days after landfall there was no real air bridge. Likely dozens upon dozens of heavy helicopters are needed to move supplies until trucks are offloaded. And reservist units specifically trained for long-term humanitarian relief, water purification, medical care and military police? As of this writing, there is absolutely no sign of them. Ten days in, a few Marines, small Army elements and the Puerto Rican National Guard were ashore on their own.

In contrast, the United States eventually put 60,000 federal and reserve troops into New Orleans after Katrina after 2005, Honoré noted. Puerto Rico will need far more, he said.

As in all things in the military there is a manual for responding to humanitarian disasters. The most recent version is JP 3-29, geared primarily for foreign operations, but generally applicable. This 203-page volume from the Joint Staff at the Pentagon spells out—in excruciating detail—what to and what not to do in these circumstances.

It's this kind of detail that created successes under brutal circumstances from Pakistan to Japan to Thailand—and Haiti in 2010, when the USS Carl Vinson arrived just three days after an earthquake and the Air Force airlifted 15,000 Americans within days.

In the case of Maria, at first blush, three things appear to have not been done. The first is adequately preposition forces and assets. The second is the timely appointment of an on-scene commander; the U.S. Northern Command did not appoint combat veteran Brigadier General Richard Kim until 10 days after landfall. The third is a detailed plan. Planning is paramount, according to the manual. And if there was one, it certainly was not publicly announced as were military relief efforts for Irma and Harvey—even though Maria’s strength and trajectory were known a full four days before landfall.

The Trump administration has sought, desperately, to shift the blame and claim that this was somehow a surprise—even though a direct hit was forecast days beforehand. Later, Lieutenant Jeffrey Buchanan, the three-star land forces commander at Northern Command, even claimed that the hurricane’s effect was not foreseeable. Again, suspiciously defensive. If the military didn’t think Maria was serious, then why did it evacuate its own aircraft on the island to Guantanamo Bay?

For the military, Maria may be a singular stain upon a noble and sterling record built not on taking—but saving—lives. The Trump administration is due a serious reckoning. That’s because for millions of fellow Americans in the Caribbean this is serious, if not deadly, business.