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Day after day, towns relive horror of TWA crash
August 9, 1996 From Correspondent Christine Negroni HAMPTON BAYS, New York (CNN) -- July 17 was a normal evening in this seaside town, until word came of a tragedy that would change the lives of residents here and in nearby communities forever. The crash of TWA Flight 800 off the coast of Long Island has brought the accident to the town's doorstep. Wreckage from the crash is carried past clapboard houses and village shops, truckload after truckload, on its way to a hangar for further study.
"They were parked in front of here for a couple of minutes. That gigantic plane took up the whole property it was just...awesome, that's all," said resident Pat Brannagin. After the news that the plane had exploded killing all 230 aboard came the onslaught that follows catastrophe: thousands of disaster and recovery workers, investigators and news people. Roads were closed. Motels and restaurants jammed. Local residents were called to duty, too. From county divers collecting debris to National Guardsmen unloading it. The work was difficult. "The mission is the mission," said Lt. Col. Mark Heffner of the New York Army National Guard. "It's the emotional impact of seeing personal effects and things of that nature -- seats when they come up knowing that someone was in there and didn't survive." Bad weather has stalled the recovery effort at times, and the nature of the crash has slowed the investigation. People have had three weeks to adjust to the fact that the siege of their towns will not end soon.
"They still got the road blocked down the street. They still have the neighborhood all screwed up," said marina owner Steve Abbott. In East Moriches, signs of community grief are evident in the prayers posted in public places and the ribboned streets traveled by army trucks taking bodies to the morgue. "Your life does tend to revert back to whatever is normal and then you see a truck roll by. Is it a pall? Is it constantly on your mind? Probably not. But you are reminded of what happened and the terrible sadness of it all," said Paulette Brinka, a community relations official for the town of Brookhaven.
In communities like these, summer sunshine is the commodity that keeps the economy going. So the fog that's blanketed the shore nearly every day since the disaster seems to match a mood that even the late-breaking sun and a trip to the beach can't break. "It makes you feel funny going in there. It's like a burial ground," said Josephine D'Angelo. Not long ago, the Atlantic was this area's greatest asset. This summer it has become a reminder of an awful visitor that came to the seashore. Main story:
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