Still seeking answers

Sunday's editorial criticizes the continued lack of cooperation - two months after the fire - between state and local authorities in determinng how it could have been prevented from getting out of control.

At a little-noticed meeting before a panel of state lawmakers last week, state Forestry Commission and Department of Natural Resources officials repeated the now-familiar story of the state's most destructive fire on record: $40 million in Horry County property destroyed, 76 homes burned down and 97 damaged.

The weather, officials said, acted in unexpected ways, pushing the flame in directions they couldn't foresee. The air was surprisingly hot and dry, allowing embers long lives aloft, and the wind was unexpectedly strong, flinging burning material far afield. Officials described shifts in the flames so rapid that two firefighters had no time to flee, instead ducking under personal shelters as flames rolled over their heads.

Horry County residents have heard this narrative for months, but it is only sufficient to explain why so the fire got so big. It does not, however, explain why officials allowed residents expecting their protection to sleep until life-threatening danger was literally at their doors. People went to bed that night thinking the fire was largely contained - some assured by calls to an official hotline instructing them not to worry - and woke just hours later to find the blaze consuming their back fences.

This official failure to anticipate the fire threat or warn residents is only now being acknowledged in any official capacity, as Horry County leaders have begun lashing out at state agencies' conduct during the fire. A few days prior to the hearing in Columbia, County Councilman Al Allen proposed giving county officials authority in emergencies over the state's operations. That path seems unlikely, but Allen's frustrations are dead on - and a welcome official admission that something other than bad weather may have contributed to the destruction in April.

"My biggest concern is that when the wildfire broke, we set up our command center, and they came in and set up their own command down the road," Allen said. "They came in and did their own thing, separate from us."

County Council Chairwoman Liz Gilland said that had response been more coordinated, Barefoot residents might have escaped with more than their lives.

"What I try to remember is that nobody died, nobody was even injured, and that's miraculous," Gilland said. "But it could have been done better. Our people could have been given a little more time."

These county leaders' opinions should not be dismissed as mere interagency fingerpointing, but rather considered the first step in acknowledging that the people of Barefoot Resort were let down. The second step will be a thorough review of what could have been done better, but state, county and North Myrtle Beach officials are all conducting such reviews separately.

"How could they do that without Horry County?" Gilland asked of the state panel. "Of course the agencies are going to show themselves in their best light."

Indeed. State Rep. Tracy Edge, who attended Thursday's panel at the Statehouse, noted his own belief in communications breakdowns between state and local-level first responders, and the fact that local officials were not invited to Columbia suggests they are still operating in a vacuum.

Horry County is amply prepared for a hurricane, officials say: no matter the strength or intensity or the last-minute changes in track, the county has comprehensive plans spelling out specific roles for each state and local agency. Until all the agencies involved in April's disaster can frankly address their shortcomings and draft a wildfire plan with a similar urgency, all of Horry County remains as vulnerable as Barefoot Resort was before the firestorm.

The weather, officials said, acted in unexpected ways, pushing the flame in directions they couldn't foresee. The air was surprisingly hot and dry, allowing embers long lives aloft, and the wind was unexpectedly strong, flinging burning material far afield. Officials described shifts in the flames so rapid that two firefighters had no time to flee, instead ducking under personal shelters as flames rolled over their heads.

Horry County residents have heard this narrative for months, but it is only sufficient to explain why so the fire got so big. It does not, however, explain why officials allowed residents expecting their protection to sleep until life-threatening danger was literally at their doors. People went to bed that night thinking the fire was largely contained - some assured by calls to an official hotline instructing them not to worry - and woke just hours later to find the blaze consuming their back fences.

This official failure to anticipate the fire threat or warn residents is only now being acknowledged in any official capacity, as Horry County leaders have begun lashing out at state agencies' conduct during the fire. A few days prior to the hearing in Columbia, County Councilman Al Allen proposed giving county officials authority in emergencies over the state's operations. That path seems unlikely, but Allen's frustrations are dead on - and a welcome official admission that something other than bad weather may have contributed to the destruction in April.

"My biggest concern is that when the wildfire broke, we set up our command center, and they came in and set up their own command down the road," Allen said. "They came in and did their own thing, separate from us."

County Council Chairwoman Liz Gilland said that had response been more coordinated, Barefoot residents might have escaped with more than their lives.

"What I try to remember is that nobody died, nobody was even injured, and that's miraculous," Gilland said. "But it could have been done better. Our people could have been given a little more time."

These county leaders' opinions should not be dismissed as mere interagency fingerpointing, but rather considered the first step in acknowledging that the people of Barefoot Resort were let down. The second step will be a thorough review of what could have been done better, but state, county and North Myrtle Beach officials are all conducting such reviews separately.

"How could they do that without Horry County?" Gilland asked of the state panel. "Of course the agencies are going to show themselves in their best light."

Indeed. State Rep. Tracy Edge, who attended Thursday's panel at the Statehouse, noted his own belief in communications breakdowns between state and local-level first responders, and the fact that local officials were not invited to Columbia suggests they are still operating in a vacuum.

Horry County is amply prepared for a hurricane, officials say: no matter the strength or intensity or the last-minute changes in track, the county has comprehensive plans spelling out specific roles for each state and local agency. Until all the agencies involved in April's disaster can frankly address their shortcomings and draft a wildfire plan with a similar urgency, all of Horry County remains as vulnerable as Barefoot Resort was before the firestorm.