I was raised in New England where nor’easters were normally our greatest natural hazard – except of course for Harvard and the region’s well-known penchant for regularly electing Democrats. But it was not until moving to South Alabama for family reasons that I became personally acquainted with Gulf Coast hurricanes. My learning curve over those four years – from Ivan through Katrina – made their insane power a permanently disruptive memory. Today, in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, millions of Americans with lives and homes located well away from the usual paths of cyclonic destruction are learning those same painful lessons. Here are those I remember best.

More thorough than war: Having personally witnessed war’s wanton destruction, what impressed me most about hurricanes is that they are far more thorough. I experienced much of Katrina’s fury next to Lieutenant General Russ Honore; he compared the storm to an enemy campaign fleet gathering forces to storm ashore when tides and winds permitted the widest possible destruction. After Ivan, I saw acres of pine forest snapped and ripped from the ground by twisters, like a Divine divot-maker was practicing chip-shots.

The power of moving water: Storm surge might not be so bad except that it is always accompanied by winds and waves that double or quadruple its impact. In Biloxi MS, I saw seaside mansions whose owners had reinforced every window, eave and joint against the elements: But had lost the war when storm surge simply flattened every vertical wall. In Mobile Bay, the 80 tons of the mighty USS Alabama withstood hours of wind-driven fetch - but left a 14-degree list between ship and drydock.

Hurricanes are regional events, not just local. Any decent hurricane will affect multiple states, cities, counties, municipalities and everything attached to them. It follows that reacting to the disaster necessarily involves close coordination between officials from each of those jurisdictions who may or may not have any reason to cooperate. During Katrina, I watched as the entire chain of command, from federal to state and local officialdom essentially threw up their hands in the face of the Biblical destruction that had vanquished the proudly sinful Big Easy. Or at least until General Honore arrived on the scene and forcefully inserted his matchless command presence to banish chaos instantly from the drowned city. It was Mayor Ray Naigin who ruefully christened General Honore as the “Black John Wayne” for his achievements.

Hurricanes typically destroy the entire infrastructure. Virtually everything you need to survive – among others, food, water, medicine, medical equipment, transportation, fuel and power – are provided by systems that are interdependent. Basically, they don’t work at all if their critical sub-systems have been destroyed by the 80 trillion gallons of water estimated to have come ashore with Hurricane Helene. Roads in and around the once beautiful mountains of Asheville, NC have suddenly become mud-clogged arteries leading nowhere; even worse, some municipal areas are now effectively land-locked, cut off by swollen streams and downed trees from rescue and life-support. Inherent in all this destruction is the vital matter of providing law and order since desperation typically grows the longer you have to wait for relief.

So what can we do now?

The first challenge is of course leadership. Of our 50 states, Florida has the clearest ideas about how to recover most effectively from the manifold disasters of a major hurricane. The reasons are two: They have had plenty of practice in recent years; and Governor Ron De Santis doesn’t tolerate fools, especially not when the chips are down. Why couldn’t he be given special powers and appointed to perform the same functions once performed so brilliantly by General Honore?

The second major challenge – and the first to be addressed by any leader – is to conduct a regional triage of what will be needed for life support and recovery efforts in 30-day increments out to at least a year. While most of us long to restore our power, a proper triage first clears the roads and then goes yard-by-yard to recover all downed wires: Only then do you risk turning on the power one locale at a time. In much the same way, restoring access to medical facilities and relief supplies demands a coherent, well-coordinated approach. In New Orleans, I watched a brigade of the 82^nd Airborne Division conduct nightly after-action reviews to ensure that rescuers, first responders, medical personnel and even the 82’s complement of bulldozers didn’t get in each other’s way.

Don’t you think something like that might be useful even amidst the usual political dithering?

COL (Ret.) Ken Allard is a former West Point professor, Dean of the National War College and NBC News military analyst.