Help pours into Iowa, from neighbors and Minnesota

CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA -- The smell of rot and desperation hung in the air of this devastated city as Minneapolis police Lt. Mike Sullivan and Sgt. Patti Hellen rolled through mostly deserted streets, past upended cars and houses collapsed into the mud.

They had traveled 275 miles south to lend a hand during Iowa's historic floods, and with the waters finally gone from Cedar Rapids, they were there Tuesday when the first residents were allowed to see what was left of their homes.

One man slathered in mud stood bleakly on a corner and waved. Then came the shouts.

"Thanks for coming down!"

Help from across the nation is pouring into Iowa as the floodwaters recede. Left behind is the toll of what's being described as Iowa's worst natural disaster: five people dead statewide, widespread destruction of crops, major damage to the University of Iowa, 83 counties proclaimed disaster areas.

In Cedar Rapids, a city of 120,000 that took the hardest hit, 25,000 people were evacuated and 1,300 city blocks were underwater at the flooding's peak.

Moved by the scene in their southern neighbor, Minnesotans are coming to Iowa with sore muscles and big hearts, fatigued by a relentless summer of disaster but ready and armed with shovels, compassion and tuna hot dish.

They are feeding the homeless, comforting the weary and keeping the peace. They even saved a kitten and helped a woman find her dentures.

"Woo, I found my teeth and my ring!" yelled Jan Beets, whose Cedar Rapids home of 40 years was caked with mud chest high, the contents spilled out into the soggy yard.

Beets pointed to officer Jeff Parker of Minneapolis' Fifth Precinct, whose unit was helping her family sort through the wreckage: "This is my husband-to-be, right here," she said.

Officers were prepared

Another family member applauded the Minneapolis squad cars that circled this poor neighborhood, keeping anxious homeowners from dangerous houses and an eye out for thieves. "You guys are probably good at this because you had that bridge collapse," he said.

Indeed, most of the officers from the Minneapolis and St. Paul police departments and the Hennepin County Sheriff's Office were well-prepared for disasters. Four of the Minneapolis volunteers had helped out during Hurricane Katrina, too. Bloomington also sent police to help.

Outside St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, where century-old hand-carved pews were recently underwater, Bob Kazimour stood by a sign promising Czech Goulash Day and thanked the Twin Cities help. He vowed to get through the disaster.

Kazimour, the church's parish council president, compared the mind- set of Czechs to that of "the Swedes coming down from Minnesota ... You don't know any better, and you've got to get it done."

Hellen was on the 15th hole of a golf game when the call for help came Saturday evening. Officer Tom Schwartz began coordinating the logistics. The Minneapolis police have trailers filled with everything from tents, cots, lifesaving gear and water ready to roll in just these circumstances. Hennepin County's loan of a communications truck made coordination easier after Cedar Rapids system went down. They had officers at river's edge by Sunday morning.

"This is almost like PR policing," said Hellen. "Some people are upset they can't get back in, and you have to remember to deal with them with compassion. They've lost everything."

The tiniest victim rescued

On Sunday, Minneapolis police Sgts. J.D. Roettjer and Jeremy Hulke were patrolling a part of the city where modest homes and old cars had been gutted by roof-high water. That's when they heard the screaming.

"It was a black-and-white kitten, weighed about 2 pounds," Hulke said.

The officers got him to a shelter, and won the Minneapolis department's award for first rescue. Roettjer smiled sarcastically and pointed to his partner.

"He spearheaded the operation," he said.

Farther from banks, on high ground, Stan Scheib, his daughter Kari and Kim Behrens arrived from Albert Lea on Monday and set up an intake center to start processing victims, a first step to helping get people back on their feet and in their homes. That evening, they shared hot dish and canned oranges at the Viola Gibson Elementary School with the most vulnerable amid a sea of the needy: residents of a home for disabled people and a domestic abuse shelter.

So far, the mood was fairly upbeat. But as volunteers, they had been taught that grief comes in waves.

"Most of them haven't been able to see their homes yet," said Kari Scheib. "But the water is receding, and then it will hit them."

The Scheibs and Behrens are with the Salvation Army. They were so busy and the city so chaotic when they arrived, they witnessed the disaster only from afar. "We haven't even seen the water yet," said Stan.

Their crew -- they all work for the Salvation Army -- is fresh off sandbagging and meal duty in Austin, Minn. Once again, their families are home in Minnesota, without them. But today, the focus is on those in much worse condition in Iowa.

Two crews from the Mankato and Albert Lea Salvation Army are preparing, serving and delivering about 2,500 meals each day to workers and residents.

It has been a tumultuous time in the Midwest, with deadly tornadoes, storms and floods across the plains. Many of these people have been at several of them.

"This area has really stepped up," said Steve Schweitzer, a Red Cross public affairs volunteer from San Diego. "Some people say it's a Midwest thing, some say it's an Iowa thing, I think it's a human thing."

Schweitzer said that with ubiquitous means of communications, "the world is watching us. I think they judge us on how you treat the people in most need."

On Tuesday, that included people such as Beets, whose home has survived two fires and who vows to rebuild -- with her teeth.

"By God, it's going to stand again with the help of Tide," said her daughter, putting her hope in the power of detergent. "Mom swears by Tide. And it will be a labor of love."

Help from afar

Some Minnesotans with Iowa ties are taking action here even while at home.

With seven years in Iowa City and two music degrees from the University of Iowa under her belt, Bemidji Symphony conductor Beverly Everett couldn't stand not to help.

She's using the skills she learned at the now-flooded arts campus of the University of Iowa to hold a benefit concert June 27 at the Bemidji State University Recital Hall, 1500 Birchmont Drive, 7 p.m. The proceeds will go toward replacing instruments lost in the flood and other costs incurred by the Music Department.

"You feel a connection and a heritage to that place," Everett said of the University of Iowa. "One thing I got from my teachers there is a pure love for what I do."

Staff writer Chao Xiong and the Associated Press contributed to this report.