FACES OF THE FIRE : Giving Hope and Tracking Tragedy : Disaster: Volunteers do double duty at Orange County Operations center by offering doses of comfort and charting fire’s course in ‘war room.’

“Am I going to be OK?”

The tentative voice on the telephone belonged to George Maizy, a 66-year-old cancer patient whose Irvine home lay just beyond the path of an oncoming firestorm.

“I feel I am in deep trouble,” he continued, his tone growing more desperate. “You see, I am on medication for my cancer and my leash is very short. I have some of my stuff in a bag, ready to go. Is the fire coming this way? Should I go to sleep tonight?”

Maizy’s fearful inquiries and thousands of others like them were funneled into the county’s Emergency Operations Center high on a hilltop where a band of volunteers alternately dispensed doses of direction and comfort to residents attempting to find their way through Wednesday night’s fiery chaos.

Inside the cavernous emergency center atop Loma Ridge, from where the blaze glowed brightly in the distance, officials raced around a “war room” where weather conditions, new evacuations, available shelters and the fire’s ever-changing direction were charted throughout the night.

All the while, a bank of telephones never stopped ringing with questions: Is it contained? How many firefighters are out there? Where is my son? How do I get out of here?

The troubled voices in the night called out from San Juan Capistrano, Cleveland National Forest, Santa Ana, Newport Beach, Laguna Hills, Laguna Niguel and the remains of a devastated Laguna Beach.

At one point late Wednesday night, the operators were dealing with 20 calls per minute.

One of the most disturbing, Viall said, came from a man trying to make contact with his 83-year-old father living in downtown Laguna Beach. The call came in at 11:15 p.m., well after news reports detailed the massive fire destruction there.

Frustrated by his own failed attempts to reach his father by telephone, the son--watching televised images of the fire marching up the coastline--was now attempting to search shelters in the area.

Even more frustrating, however, was that Viall and the emergency center had little information to offer on the father’s plight, referring the man to the Red Cross for help.

“I was totally unable to follow up, because we had a thousand calls come in after that,” he said.

Ring!

From his vantage point on the campus of UC Irvine, graduate student Ed Gerstin told the operator he was disturbed by the inferno now visible in the distance.

“Are we safe here?” Gerstin asked. He was also bothered by the sight of his fellow students loading their belongings into cars and trucks, even though the blaze was not threatening the campus at the time. “Should I be leaving too?”

In the last two hours Gerstin had counted 50 to 60 students preparing for an early evacuation as the fire licked at nearby Turtle Rock.

“There are cars and people running everywhere,” the student said. “Even more scary than the fire is the hysteria around here.”

Ring!

Not in immediate personal danger, Janis DeKlotz of Irvine called simply to express her sadness on a night when she felt all alone.

“I cannot believe all of this,” DeKlotz said. “I have lived in Orange County since 1971, but this is a nightmare. I can see it all going up in flames from here. It is so horrendously upsetting.”

For cancer patent Maizy, his questions answered and his home at least secured for the moment, the night would be long and void of any rest, despite some reassurances.

“You know, there is no way I could sleep tonight,” he said. “Are you, or is somebody, going to be around, if I call again? Take care of yourself. Good night.”