Thursday, November 7th, 1957 will always live in my memory as the day of the most terrifying experience I've ever been through.  We were farming then, my husband and I, living on a small farm a few miles west of Sunset, Louisiana, which we rented on shares.  We had three children at that time.  Eula, age 7, Francis, age 5, and Edward, age 3. 

We arose early that fateful morning, to finish digging our crop of potatoes before the weather turned too cold.  I turned on the radio, as I did every morning, to listen to the news before I started for the field.  I was not, at that time, afraid of any kind of storms or bad weather, but the newscaster's voice sent a chill down my spine when he said, "Tornado warnings have been issued along and ninety miles on either side of a line from [unknown], Texas to Crowley, Louisiana."  Right then and there I had a feeling of impending disaster which persisted all through the day as the wind kept getting stronger and black clouds began piling up in the southwest.

We had our supper early that night and I sent the children off to bed.  By 8:30, my husband and I were in bed too, but neither of us could go to sleep.  Thunder kept rumbling in the distance, light rain was falling, and gusts of wind blew now and then.  Both of us still had that strange feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

As the thunder grew louder and the wind increased, I kept getting more and more restless.  Finally I got up and had just lighted a cigarette when Mom and Dad arrived.  They had heard the tornado warnings, too, and had come to get us to spend the night at their house.  I thought it would be best that they stay over, since it was then 11:00 and I didn't want to wake the children. 

We had a cup of coffee and chatted for perhaps 15 minutes when a sudden gust of wind shook the house.  We all stared at one another and I'm still wondering if we didn't all share the same thought - "what's going to happen next?"

I brought the children into my bedroom (where we had been sitting) and laid all three of them across my bed.  If something did happen we'd all be together.  I then closed the door to their bedroom and the one to the living room.

As my mother closed the door that led into the kitchen, there was a sudden explosion of sound and the door flew open with such force that it threw her off balance.  We saw, then, that the kitchen wasn't there any more.  She tried to slam the door shut, but the wind opened it again and threw her into Dad's arms (he was standing right behind her).  The house started shaking as though a giant hand had gotten hold of it and wanted to see how long it would stay together.  I looked up and saw that the ceiling was separating in a rapidly widening crack.  I threw myself over the children in the bed and grabbed a hold of the mattress on each side.

The noise was deafening, like a combination of jet planes, fire engines, and freight trains.  There was a sudden silence for perhaps two seconds, as the center of the tornado was over us, then the house seemed to explode.  The last thing I saw of my home was a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus over my bed, and my silent plea was "Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!"

The wind picked up the mattress, the children, and myself and literally carried us (whirling 'round and 'round and going up and down) into the field of corn about 300 yards from the house.  All this time I had been keeping my head down and my eyes tightly shut, "If one of my precious babies is to die, I don't want to see," was the thought that kept racing through my mind.  We landed quite gently in the muddy field.  There was not a breath of wind for about two feet off the ground, but Eula and Edward would not lie still and kept struggling to get away from me.

I heard something strike my little girl with a "thud", and she fell limply in the mud.  (I was "seeing" with my hands and ears.)  The wind was pulling my baby away from me, but I kept hold of his leg.  God must have been there, too, because I alone didn't have the strength to hold him.  The sound of those pieces of wood and possibly tin striking my children is something I'll never forget.  I don't know what my feelings were during those few short minutes.  Was it terror, pain, despair, or all of them together?  The howling, screeching wind stopped abruptly and a deluge of warm rain started falling.  The rain too stopped, then suddenly started again, ice cold.  It revived my husband who had been knocked unconscious and thrown into the field about 50 yards from us.  He called to me and asked if the children were all with me.  I was certain that I had only Eula and Edward with me, but Francis piped up from the ground, "I'm here Mommy."  He had been too scared to move!

Mother started calling for help at that time.  When the kitchen door had pushed her into Dad's arms, he had grabbed her and hadn't let go.  We found them there at the edge of the field.  He was unconscious, about to drown in muddy water and still holding on to her so tightly that she couldn't free herself.  My husband pulled Dad out of the water and shielded his face from the rain with a board from the house, while he brought us to the car (which had stayed at the same place!)  He went for help to carry Dad to the car.  He had a wrenched shoulder and Dad weighed 180 lbs., while he just weighed 125 lbs.

The neighbors set about trying to clear the road of telephone poles and wires to get us to a hospital.  I won't try to describe the agonizing hour it took to get us to Lafayette Charity Hospital.  All I know is that the smell of blood was overpowering and I kept praying for them to hurry so my baby wouldn't die.  I can never give enough thanks to those wonderful doctors and nurses who took care of us, but I'm sure that God will bestow his blessings upon them.

Our home was not the only one in the neighborhood that was damaged by the tornado, but it was the only one that was completely demolished.  The refrigerator, stove, and washing machine were twisted like paper bags.  Not a stick of wood from the rest of the furniture or the house could be found that was over a foot long.  Shreds of clothing, dead chickens, broken glass, splintered wood, rolled up barbed wire fences, twisted tin, and torn books and papers were scattered for a quarter of a mile.  How can a person explain the despair, the helplessness one feels when there's no home, no clothes, no furniture left, three children, a husband, and a mother and father in the hospital and not the first penny to start over again??

The Red Cross, our wonderful family, friends, and neighbors, all helped to ease the pain and give us a new start.  It would take the rest of my life to repay their kindness.

We are all well now and have two more darling children, but the horrors of that night can never be forgotten.  I pray to God that I never have to go through something like that again, but "L' homme propose, et Oieu dispose!"

Juanita Meche
Carencro, Louisiana

Survivor account used with permission by Mr. Ed Meche