Local radio and television stations stop regular programming. Civil defense and local government officials repeat messages stressing the life-threatening severity of the approaching storm. The tone of the messages becomes increasingly somber and more urgent. All local residents are to evacuate immediately. Though the National Hurricane Center still predicts landfall on the Florida panhandle 100 miles east of Biloxi, with each passing hour, Camille creeps steadily westward.
Today is peaceful and very quiet, as Sundays usually are in Biloxi.
Last night Gerry, his brother Chuck, and I had dinner at Baricev's and enjoyed an evening of live music at, of course, the Fiesta Club. We attempt to take Chuck on a nickel tour of our favorite hangouts at the beach, but the steady rain makes for a miserable time. We hear on the car radio that a long, hard rain did not dampen youthful spirits at Woodstock, which is going amazingly well in its last day. We notice the Ship Island ferry is missing from the pier, as are most of the boats normally moored there. The only activity along the beach seems to be people boarding up windows.