I think he just wanted to know if there had ever been an event so large that it warranted the call of every Trooper to duty.
any way if ya care... here is the part of the French and Electric blue about the Worcester Tornado.. its a realy good read and if ya can find a copy, pick it up.
C Troop's Black Day
A new commissioner was not appointed until late June. Meantime, a natural disaster struck the Bay State. For sheer intensity and power, it remains the most frightening storm to have ever hit New England. No serious warning had alerted the men stationed at the Holden barracks as they prepared for the evening meal. It was June 9 1953. Not a special day when it began. But, by nightfall, it would be etched permanently in the annals of the stated force.
Just before 5 p.m., a black funnel descended into the Petersham Forest, northwest of Worcester. As the noise increased, the frightening sound was intensified by lighting flashes playing at the funnel's edges. Mature trees suddenly began swirling in the air. No one named it at that moment. There wasn't time. But the massive, cone shaped storm would be remembered as the "Worcester Tornado." More than 25 years have softened the tragic aftermath of the tornado as it cut a wide swath through Petersham, Barre, Rutland, Boylston, Holden, Worcester, Shrewsbury and the Fayville section of Southborough. After leaving the ground there, the storm dropped for a final time in Wrentham, some 25 miles further east.
Miraculously, Troop C headquarters was spared. The tornado passed within mere yards of the large brick facility. Just south along route 122A, homes were smashed the shreds, and, too often, people were killed instantly. Moments later, the Great Brook Housing project in Worcester caught the brunt of the storm's fury. Neat rows of houses were laid waste. Two score people were killed. Panic added the devastation. No one knew what was happing, at the time it happened. Rumors began. Reports had it that the tornado would turn, regain its strength, and double back through its original route. Ominous black clouds pressed close to the grounds. An eerie silence moved in to the storm's vacuum.
The state police committed its total resources the Worcester County. Time off was cancelled. Only one desk officer was left in the barracks. Eighty-five people had been killed. Several thousands were injured. Hundreds had lost their homes. Medical facilities were taxed beyond capacity. Federal, state and local agencies performed heroically. Troopers from all sections of the state were in the area within hours. They remained there, guarding life and property, for a number of days.
One of those sent to Troop C that evening, would, years later, attempt to share the awe that overcame the first arrivals. There was nothing in the officer's experience with which to compare it. He noticed the trees first. Big trees. Strong trees. Many had been sheared off eight or ten feet from the ground, like so many stalks of celery. Yes, he remembered, that's what it reminded him of; stalks of celery that had been twisted in order to break them. Curiously, that was the vivid recollection, trees that resembled shredded stalks of celery.
Other tragic sights remained in the mind's eye. One especially was poignant. It was that if a young mother with enough of herself left to report how her infant was torn from her arms, sucked into the storm's center, and , how lifeless, dropped several hundred feet away. Such accounts, the officer remembered, had not been uncommon. He remembered the irony when, as it often does after a natural disaster, the sun the next day shone so brilliantly. For him, that too had made a lasting impression. All around, there was desolation and death. Yet warm and sunny days followed, as though mocking man's efforts to understand and control nature's unlimited forces.
The June 9, 1953 Worcester Tornado thus took its place with, among others, the 1928 and 1936 B Troop Floods, the Great Hurricane of 1938 , and other natural phenomena that had severely tested the state force's capability to respond to disasters that wrought widespread devastation and death. On the record, on each occasion, the response added to a distinguished ledger of public service.
The reputation for such service had, that same year, attracted a large pool of applicants for enlistment in the uniformed branch. Moreover, it brought a new commissioner. Governor Christian A. Herter on June 30, 1953 appointed Otis M. Whitney to administer the public safety department, and its division of state police. Whitney already had a distinguished record of public service. He particularly had enjoyed wide experience in the military, with many years of command responsibility. That party of his prior public career was especially suitable to the semi-military structure if the uniformed branch.
