It was still before sunrise when the sky over the Texas Hill Country broke open - not with light, but with water. Within 45 minutes, the Guadalupe River rose by eight meters. Brooks turned into torrents, roads into rivers, summer camps into traps. What began on July 4 with faint thunder has etched itself into America's memory: at least 67 dead, including 21 children. Eleven girls from the Christian Camp Mystic remain missing. Kerr County, known for its historic summer camps, became the epicenter of a natural force whose consequences cannot be blamed on weather alone. Sheriff Larry Leitha, who himself wades through mud and debris in rubber boots, speaks of a search "that will only end when everyone is found." And each new discovery is not a success, but a tragedy. Death is buried under tree roots, trapped in wrecked cars, lodged in the riverbed - accompanied by the smell of diesel, wet soil, and despair. Along the banks of Camp Mystic, mothers, fathers, siblings stand - silent, groping, weeping. Some were allowed to enter the grounds to search for signs. A wet sleeping bag, a torn teddy bear, a name in a notebook. A woman and a girl embrace in front of a half-collapsed cabin, tears running down mud-smeared cheeks. In the background, excavators work through fallen trees. Another storm is brewing, rumbling over a place that only yesterday was full of laughter.
Authorities are under pressure. How could it come to this? The region is known as "Flash Flood Alley," and floods are no rarity. And yet, there seemed to be no preparation for the inevitable. That night, rare flash flood emergencies followed - but no warnings of acute danger to life. Some camps, like Mo-Ranch, reacted quickly and moved children to higher ground. Others stayed - perhaps too long - in their familiar routine. And the water came not like a shower, but like a wrecking ball. Residents report scenes otherwise known only from disaster films. People fleeing to rooftops. Children clinging to ropes while the water reached their hips. Rescuers using helicopters, boats, and drones to save the stranded. Over 850 people were rescued in the first 36 hours. But for many, help came too late. In politics, too, unease is growing. Governor Greg Abbott declared Sunday a day of prayer, asking for support for the bereaved, the emergency workers, and a nation in a state of emergency. From Rome, Pope Leo XIV - the first American pontiff - addressed the faithful in English. He spoke of "the daughters who died at summer camp" and offered consolation to those left behind in the face of the unimaginable.
Death has no face - but many names. An eight-year-old girl from Alabama, a camp director from a site upstream, a family sitting in a pickup truck. Not all have been identified yet. The river has not yet fallen silent. And as rescuers continue to comb through the mud, unease grows: was this catastrophe preventable? Could a faster, more decisive, more coordinated response have made a difference? US Congressman Chip Roy said it plainly: "There will be finger-pointing. There will be doubt." And yet much remains unsaid, especially one thing - that it was not just the rain that killed, but the sluggish machinery of preparedness, the belief in routine, the fatal rhythm of a country that knows disasters - but rarely learns from them. In the coming days, the search, the recovery, the prayers will go on. And someday, when the river is clear again and the camps reopen, someone will say: we learned from this. Maybe that will be true. Maybe not. But for the families who lost their children, it is already too late. What remains is a valley of tears. Critics of President Donald Trump blamed staff cuts at the National Weather Service (NWS) for the high number of deaths and the scale of destruction - an accusation the White House called "shameful and disgusting." The floods were caused by the remnants of Tropical Storm Barry, which made landfall over Mexico but unleashed massive, unexpected thunderstorms over parts of Texas. Particularly affected was the Guadalupe River, along whose banks many youth camps are located. "It only took nine days for Trump's cuts to NOAA to cost dozens of children their lives in Texas when Tropical Storm Barry made landfall this week," wrote Grant Stern, editor-in-chief of Occupy Democrats, on X. "The people of Texas voted for a government controlled by Donald Trump and Greg Abbott," added Ron Filipkowski, former federal prosecutor and current editor-in-chief of MediasTouchNews. "And this is exactly what they're getting." A photo of Trump next to images of the flood disaster during the July 4 celebrations quickly went viral - and became a projection screen for fundamental criticism of his administration.
"What happened to the girls at Camp Mystic is EXACTLY what one of the country’s best meteorologists, John Morales, warned would happen," wrote Rachel Bitecofer from the Wason Center for Public Policy at Christopher Newport University. "Trump's cuts to NOAA and NWS have critically impaired the country’s storm prediction capabilities." The anger toward Trump is palpable in the US, and it seems a country is now receiving the bill for its silence.
WAHNSINN
Die Verantwortlichen in ihren Villen, abseits des Leids, juckt das gar nicht.
Nicht im Geringsten.
Und die Betroffenen?
Leiden, beten und senken den Kopf.
Ich finde das so schlimm und die Menschen können kaum etwas tun.
Und wie zu erwarten, es war natürlich Biden.
https://www.n-tv.de/panorama/Trump-zeigt-bei-Texas-Flut-auf-Biden-Regierung-article25882704.html