This morning, Quy Nhon woke up in devastation.

(VTC News) - After a night of being ravaged by storm No. 13 Kalmaegi, this morning, Quy Nhon (Gia Lai) appeared in tatters and heavy with tears.

This morning, Quy Nhon is devastated.

"Last night, I thought I was going to die"

This morning, as the sun peeked over Quy Nhon beach, the coastal town appeared devastated after storm number 13 Kalmaegi. The ground-floor house of Ms. Nguyen Thi Thao (33 years old) on Hoang Van Thu street only had half of the corrugated iron roof hanging.

On the wet floor, Ms. Thao quickly searched for what was left under the pile of messy furniture, in her hand was a wet phone.

“ Thinking back now, I still shiver. I have never heard the wind howl so terribly. The roof flew away, the walls shook, the little girl cried… I could only hold her and pray to God, ” she said, her eyes red and her voice hoarse after a sleepless night.

Beside her, two children sat huddled in a corner, their faces streaked with dried mud. A small pink slipper lay alone in the middle of the yard, surrounded by broken tiles and rotten wood.

People stand in a daze on the rubble after super typhoon Kalmaegi passed by.

Ms. Thao said that on the evening of November 6, around 6 p.m., the wind started to blow violently. The sound of the corrugated iron roof creaking and the sound of the iron door shaking as if someone was banging on it. At that time, the only people in the house were herself, her two young children, and her nearly 70-year-old mother. Her husband was working the night shift and was stuck because of the storm and could not return home.

“ At first I thought it was just a strong wind, but it suddenly came and it sounded like the sky was falling. I ran to close the door, but it wouldn’t close. It pushed back and kept shaking. ”

The wind and rain poured into the house, flooding the floor. The eight-year-old daughter cried out, hugging her mother tightly. Outside, the trees in front of the door were broken by the wind, crashing down on the roof, making a loud bang like an explosion.

At around 7pm, the metal roof blew off. The whole house was dark and water was pouring down. Everyone was screaming. Thao pulled her children to the lowest corner of the wall and pressed them down with a mattress.

“ The wind was so strong that things were flying everywhere. I heard my mother chanting prayers, and I was shaking, thinking I might not make it. ”

In that moment of despair, she remembered her phone. The signal was weak and intermittent. Every time she turned it on, the screen kept flashing and losing signal. But she still tried, her hands shaking, to type a few lines:

“ The house on Hoang Van Thu is about to collapse… there are only women and children in the house. If anyone can read this, please save me! ”

The message was posted to Facebook and then disappeared. She tried again, and again. The screen was blurry, soaked by wind and rain. “ I just hoped someone would see it. If they couldn’t save us, at least they would know we were alive, ” she said, her hand clutching the phone.

Moments later, someone commented on the post: “ Stay calm, we'll call an ambulance! ”

She didn't know if the news was true or not – because the signal kept dropping – but just that one line made her feel like someone was holding her hand in the dark.

Trees collapsed on Hoang Van Thu street, Quy Nhon ward ( Gia Lai )

At 7:30 p.m., the wind suddenly stopped blowing. As a coastal native, Ms. Thao knew that the storm had not ended, it was just having a moment of calm before it struck again with even more terrible force.

At 8pm, the wind started to blow again. The constant whistling sound was mixed with the sound of metal crashing and the intermittent cries of children. In the corner, three women were hugging each other. The old woman was shivering, praying and shielding her two children.

“ Every time I heard the sound of the wind howling, I thought the wall was about to collapse. Everyone just hugged each other, waiting for rescue .”

Around 1am, the wind finally died down. Thao opened her eyes and saw the pitch-black sky through the gaping roof.

“ Only then did I dare to believe that I was still alive. My mother was crying, and the two children fell asleep in my arms, soaked .”

The desolate, desolate scene of coastal people after the heavy devastation of storm No. 13.

This morning, when the wind had calmed, neighbors came over to help clean up. Everything was soaked. The dining table was tilted, the rice cooker was in the mud, and pieces of metal were stuck to the wall. Ms. Thao picked up a basin of water and poured it away, looking at the crumbling roof. “ I never thought Quy Nhon would have this day in my life. The sea is so beautiful, but it has turned ferocious.”

The two children huddled next to their mother and asked softly, “ Do we have to run again tonight, Mom? ” She patted her children’s heads and smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “ No, baby, the storm is over. ” But in her eyes, the fear was still there.

One city, many sighs

On the morning of November 7, Quy Nhon was bright with sunshine again, but the sunshine was unusually cold. Groups of people, their clothes soaked and covered in mud, quietly cleared away each piece of tile and each sheet of corrugated iron. Quy Nhon, after the storm, was like someone who had just recovered from a fever. Tired and sluggish.

Police, soldiers, youth volunteers, environmental workers – everyone was silent, only the sound of shovels, buckets of water, and occasionally a soft call to each other: “ There are still people here who need help!”

Not only Ms. Thao's house, all wards of Quy Nhon today are desolate.

Many houses in the coastal city of Quy Nhon were completely collapsed.

Roofs were blown off houses, windows were broken, trees fell across small alleys. Electricity was still cut off for safety.

On faces still dark from lack of sleep, everyone recounted the stormy night in a trembling voice: " Never seen such fierce wind. "

Looking from Thi Nai Bridge towards the center of Quy Nhon, the roofless houses lie in ruins amidst the brown earth and gray concrete. The wind has stopped, but the sounds it leaves behind seem to still be around: the noise of half-broken signs, the sound of iron doors banging against the walls, the sound of people calling out to each other amidst the chaos of destruction.

Nguyen Hue Street – once a vibrant place with shops and cars – is now littered with fallen trees, uprooted trees, the pavement strewn with broken glass from high-rise buildings and broken signs. A motorbike crashed into a house door, its front wheel deformed; its license plate covered in mud, no one knows where it came from. Each trace is like a silent account of the recent fury.

Even solid houses could not withstand the terrible force of typhoon Kalmaegi.

By the side of the road, a middle-aged woman sat down on the sidewalk, her hands covering her face, behind her was a house with its corrugated iron roof blown away. “ The door flew open, the roof screeched and was blown away. I thought I wouldn’t survive …” – she said.

The storm has gone, leaving only torn gaps in people's hearts.

In the Ghenh Rang – Tien Sa area, which was once likened to a strip of silk embracing the white sand, is now a picture of destruction. Last night’s waves tore up the coastal road, the concrete sections cracked open. The coconut trees lay flat, their roots sticking up white.

Mrs. Luu – the owner of a seafood restaurant for more than 20 years on the Quy Hoa coast – stood there, stunned, watching the collapse. The table was gone, the corrugated iron roof was blown away into the sea, leaving only the cold stove and the ragged scratches of the storm. “ Last night, hearing the sound of the wind, I thought my house was falling apart. I have never seen such a fierce storm in my life. Now the beautiful sea is gone… only the salty and fishy smell of floating garbage. ”

On Xuan Dieu Avenue – the iconic street of Quy Nhon – the sea banyan trees, rows of ancient trees were uprooted, their trunks blocking the road. A few soldiers, environmental workers, their shirts soaked, were clearing piles of rubble, restoring sections of electric wire. No one said anything. There was only the heavy breathing of people trying to find life again amidst the devastation.

The storm does not make rich or poor. In the new residential area of ​​Quy Nhon Nam ward, the unfinished wooden houses also stand on pillars. The corrugated iron roofs are curved like banana leaves.

Quy Nhon is still silent, struggling with the sound of desolate breathing.

According to the Gia Lai Province Civil Defense Command, by 5 a.m. on November 7, the entire province recorded 43 houses completely collapsed, more than 2,280 houses had their roofs blown off, and a series of signs, electric poles, and trees were knocked down. In many eastern communes - such as An Vinh and Hoai Nhon Bac - seawater rose, intruding 50 to 80 cm into people's houses.

One person died, Mrs. Nguyen Thi Gia (60 years old, An Nhon ward) due to the collapsed roof; two others were injured. Behind those dry numbers are the lives of people trembling in the dark, the calls for their children in the middle of the storm that has not yet ended.

At Ayun Pa, the water level of the Ba River exceeded the third alarm level by more than 2 meters, only less than a meter lower than the historic flood in 2009. The muddy water flowed, submerging crops, cattle and thousands of hectares of winter rice in the flowering stage.

In An Khe, the water level reached 405.05 meters – just under half a meter lower than the second alarm level, causing many low-lying areas to be deeply flooded, cutting off traffic on DT.629, DT.633, DT.636. The villages along the stream, which used to be peaceful after the harvest, are now just muddy strips of land.

By morning, the entire province was experiencing widespread power outages, with many communes isolated due to landslides and communications being disrupted. Rescue teams had to use boats, canoes, and UAVs to find access to remote residential areas. Nearly 9,000 officers, soldiers, and militiamen were mobilized to stand guard in 13 frontline working groups, supporting evacuation, restoring electricity and water, and protecting the dam.

But amid the sound of generators and shovels shoveling mud, there is still the silence of shattered roofs – where people are rising from the rubble.

On the morning of November 7, people in the eastern part of Gia Lai province were rising from the rubble.

Large reservoirs such as Dinh Binh, Nui Mot, Thuan Ninh, Tra Xom 1 still have more than 200 million cubic meters of empty capacity – a fortunate thing that helps reduce the risk of dam failure, but also shows the stress tolerance of the irrigation system after consecutive heavy rains. Water levels on rivers continue to rise, threatening the downstream areas if the rain does not stop soon.

With initial damage estimates of over 80 billion VND, that number certainly will not stop, because many mountainous communes have not been able to count the damage due to landslides. But what worries local leaders more is not the material damage, but the fatigue and exhaustion of the people after the storm has passed.

An Yen - Nguyen Gia

Source: https://vtcnews.vn/sang-nay-quy-nhon-thuc-day-trong-hoang-tan-ar985761.html