The Rescue Attempt That Had Heros And Looters Alike
Johnny Mote and his ragtag team were first on the crash site. Mote recalls the first thing he saw was a bloody hand sticking out from the wreckage. He could hear the people moaning, pleading for help. The whole scene tore him apart. His only help at that moment was his neighbor, Dwain Easley. The two men, for a while, were the only able-bodied persons present to help pull people from the wreckage. But soon, the helicopters that were heard and seen previously were on the scene. The choppers belonged to the Coast Guard, National Guard and Forrest County General Hospital, who were doing their best to ferry people in, and illuminate the crash site.
Rescue vehicles on the ground found no direct path in sight. Tangled by underbrush and the 20-foot creek, the rescue team had to act and think fast. Two bulldozers were dispatched to plow a primitive path off nearby Highway 568 in order to give a ground path available to the first responders. It would take hours to remove the bodies of the dead and injured from the plane. Identification was completely hindered as there had been a poker game going on during the flight, and everyone’s wallets and purses had been strewn throughout the swamp. News had spread about the crash and before too long an estimated 3,000 people had swarmed to the crash site. But not all had the intentions of lending a helping hand.
In the ensuing chaos, souvenir hunters took billfolds, jewelry, suitcases, band merchandise and even chunks of metal from the crash site. Gene Odom, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s bodyguard, recalls: “They took my watch, my wallet, my ring, and my money as I lay bleeding on the ground. I would like to think that only one ‘grave robber’ was involved, but so many items were missing that I have to believe otherwise.” It was as if they were back in Noah’s time and all but a select few were stricken with greed of mankind and the chance to capitalize on an easy opportunity. Most of the 20 survivors were taken to Southwest Regional Medical Center in McComb, where the lobby had been transformed into a makeshift emergency treatment center to quickly deal with the onslaught of plane crash victims.