By Tommy R. McDearis
April 16, 2007 was already a strange day in Blacksburg, Virginia. Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Blacksburg is accustomed to unusual weather patterns. But 35 degrees, snow flurries and 60 mph wind gusts are still odd for spring even in a town where the joke is, “If you don’t like our weather, wait an hour and it’ll be something else.”
I was taking the day off that Monday. As ridiculous as it now seems, I thought I had a problem. My printer had gone out and in my mind I was complaining that I had to go out in that wretched weather to buy a new one. Moving slowly, having no urgency to be anywhere, I had just stepped to another room when I heard my cell phone ringing. Unable to reach it I thought, “They’ll leave a voice message and I’ll call them back.” Seconds later it was ringing again. Experience told me this call was important.
Advertisement
Answering the phone I heard a member of the local rescue squad say, “Do you know what’s going on? There’s shooting . . . lots of it. Somebody’s inside Norris Hall and they’re shooting the place up. You better get to the hospital fast.”
I serve not only as the pastor of Blacksburg Baptist Church, but also as a chaplain of the Blacksburg Police Department. Sensing the day was about to thrust me into places where instant identification would be crucial, I grabbed my badge and my police uniform from the closet. Before I could get dressed the phone was ringing again and again.
A police lieutenant yelled, “Pray! Pray hard! Don’t stop. Go to the hospital as fast as you can.” Another call came from an unknown number. Though still unsure who it was, I will never forget the voice: “It’s terrible. Come quickly. We need your help.”
A TRULY TERRIBLE EVENT
Within two minutes I was racing to the hospital and I could tell something truly terrible was unfolding. Law enforcement units from all over the region were streaming west toward Virginia Tech as I rushed east toward the hospital.
I called the lieutenant for an update. I had no idea he was personally loading injured and dying students into his police SUV and taking them two blocks away to the staging area where ambulances were now lining up to transport the wounded. Asking where he was, he said, “I can’t talk now. Get to the hospital as fast as you can. This is bad. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Arriving before the wail of the first sirens could be heard from approaching ambulances, the Emergency Department of Montgomery Regional Hospital was surreal, looking much like an episode of “ER.” Doctors, nurses and technicians suited in their sterile gowns, the entire hospital abuzz with the trauma alert, four surgical suites cleared for trauma surgery. It was eerie and, oddly, quite reassuring.
