It has been three years now that a major earthquake of 7.3 hit Turkey, devastating a region of more than 200 miles from one end to the other, one of the wealthiest and most densely populated areas of the country due to high industrialization.
And my first experience with its trial-and-error, high cost lessons still remains fresh in my mind. 

First, it was just a shake, at 3.02 AM. And the news on television, everyone is talking of the quake, it is a major one. The situation is catastrophic but still not clear; many provinces cannot even by reached. What is going on?

2 days after the quake, I am on site at Golcuk. After long discussions, our mountain rescue team got activated, I joined in as medical staff. Not having any experience and knowledge about urban search and rescue or collapsed buildings, we rush to the site with this dilemma in mind: with so little knowledge, will we be able to provide help and not cause further harm? Is the situation so desperate that we felt the need of intervening?

We stayed 4 days on site, discovering the used-to-be city by our selves, doing our own mapping and contacts. No one seemed in charge, we are alone. The scene is shocking: buildings are either undamaged or totally collapsed, and in the last case, nothing taller than 15 feet exist. By many times, we found signs of life, someone hitting the pipes or even talking from down under. Not having any means but our five senses, sometimes it is just a common illusion but the risk is worth it, and an operation is set, the material is brought and we start working. And four times, we were right; we brought someone alive to daylight. Although exhausted of this intense work and in despair due to our limited resources, we gain hope and continue to look out for other signs of life. 

And it is this very precise moment I remember in all details, the fifth day after the hit and the third day of our operations. It is 2AM; we are wandering over the debris searching for life signs. It is only possible at night because machines do not work and the silence make it possible to hear best. Having no light but our headlamps, making no sound but our footsteps, the silence is oppressing. And suddenly, a telephone starts to ring, persistently. There is no intact building around, no electricity, no water. How come this one phone be intact? Unable to locate it, each ring is like a question. And what to answer but “I don’t know” to all questions we may be asked if we were to pick it up?

The next day, the sixth after the quake, we work for this lady with whom we talked. But we are late, she pass away two hours before we reach her hand, after having struggled for so many hours. And it is the end of our rescue mission, the end of all rescue missions for some, and the start of psychological therapy for one of our teammate. We go home.

And the lessons: 
· For future disasters, response is the last phase to be planned but it is the first action to be taken. It is imperative to have local response resources and be able to manage rescue operations. The disaster may be overwhelming but the response works must not. Before even knowing about the disaster, the resources to respond should be known and plans should be done accordingly. 
· If there is no management, power can rule, as always. Militaries can direct rescue workers to their sites even if this is not the most severely damaged zone and social unrest may arise. 
· An unplanned, uncoordinated response will cause frustration to both victims and rescue workers, one needing help, the other being able to provide help but not knowing how.
· This ill-taken first phase can further affect the whole response-recovery-mitigation-preparedness cycle by undermining the trust in authorities. Making everything more difficult for future scenarios.

And of the many lessons not listed here, the hardest is to continue the journey bearing in mind the high consequences of well-intentioned but unplanned and/or inadequate works.