Volunteering with Team Rubicon as a field photographer has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life. Team Rubicon is a veteran-led group disaster relief organization that springs into action during and after disasters, tirelessly helping communities rebuild. Right after Hurricane Milton made landfall on October 9, I joined a Route Clearance Team bound for Tampa—these hurricane relief volunteer crews are the tip of the spear, the first on the ground, clearing the way for rescue vehicles by removing downed trees and debris left in the storm’s wake. The challenges were many, but so was our resolve. And the gratitude from the people we helped made every ounce of effort worthwhile.
In the wake of the hurricane, Florida presented a stark contrast. Some neighborhoods seemed almost untouched, while others looked like a giant hand had swept down, grabbed someone’s entire life—house, belongings, and all—and scattered it along the roadside like an overturned laundry basket. Seeing the devastation firsthand was heart-wrenching, and it made clear just how much people had lost.
As a Team Rubicon photographer, I was there to capture the raw emotion and resilience of those moments, but I wasn’t just an observer: I became part of the team. One minute, I was behind the camera; the next, I was hauling branches to the curb or rolling heavy rounds of wood. There was a delicate balance between taking photos and pulling my weight with the rest of the crew.
Our team was led by Ryan Barkman, whose steady hand and unshakable leadership felt like being on a ship with a captain who knew how to navigate any storm. Ryan led our hurricane relief volunteer team with heart and determination. Our crew—a mix of six veterans and three kick-ass civilians, which included a retired F-14 pilot, a pediatric flight nurse, a Vietnam veteran, and a lifeguard from L.A.—worked together seamlessly.
I had the chance to reconnect with some old Sarasota friends during this mission. Jeff and Cindy Berghorns, childhood pals from Sarasota, stepped up when we needed a place to stay. Their church, Hope City, welcomed us with open arms, offering us cots to sleep on for the night. It was a heartwarming reminder of the simple acts of kindness that keep us going, that sense of neighbors helping neighbors.
After a quick breakfast off the tailgate the next day, we headed to Inverness in Citrus County, just north of Tampa. Ruthie Davis Schlabach, another friend from high school, had heard what we were doing and put out a call to us for help. A community of 10 homes was trapped by a gigantic tree and a downed power line. Ruthie, now a Citrus County commissioner, met us there, comforting homeowners while we went to work. She brought us donuts donated by the local Dunkin’ Donuts. Later, when Ruthie tried to buy us lunch at a local Wawa, they refused her money, insisting it was on the house. Donuts might seem like a small gesture, but running on fumes, those moments of kindness are what carry you through.
While in that trapped neighborhood, we met Glenda Allen, an 88-year-old woman who had been anxiously waiting for someone to help. After we cleared the massive tree, she hugged each of us, tears streaming down her face. Her simple joy? She could finally go to church on Sunday. That moment stayed with me.
From there, we headed to Augusta, Georgia, still exhausted from hours on the road and days in the field. Along the way, we stopped at a roadside BBQ joint with a big pink pig on the sign, and a young woman who had been following the disaster on TV picked up the tab for all 10 of us. It was overwhelming—the generosity of strangers, the way people pulled together in the face of such devastation.
In Augusta at our FOB (Forward Operating Base), we continued our work, clearing another massive tree that had crushed one Mrs. Darnell’s roof. I’ll never forget how she came strolling down the street afterward, carrying two giant boxes of Bojangles’ fried chicken and biscuits. She invited us into her home, setting the table with a linen tablecloth, and pouring us sweet tea that tasted like sunshine in a jug. Those Bojangles’ biscuits were the kind of comfort food you don’t forget—rich with golden southern butter. Her landlord, touched by the effort we were making on his tenant’s behalf, made a donation to Team Rubicon right on the spot. At another home, after clearing even more trees, the homeowner and his three brothers signed up to join Team Rubicon themselves. Moments like those remind me why we do this.
Being part of this crew was a gift. There’s something indescribable about stepping into a stranger’s life on one of their worst days and being able to make it just a little bit better. Strangers welcomed us with open arms, offering food, prayers, and sweet tea. And there we were, a group of volunteers with chainsaws and an abundance of heart, ready to do whatever it took. It’s humbling to witness the power of community, and I’m beyond grateful to have been part of it. My back might still ache from all the heavy lifting, but it’s a reminder of the incredible work we did together.
Looking back, it’s clear to me that Team Rubicon is more than just a disaster relief organization. It’s a family of people who step up when the need is greatest, volunteering their time and skills to help others in their darkest moments. And none of it could happen without the support of donations. Every meal we were given, every piece of equipment we used, every roof we cleared—it was all thanks to the generosity of those who believe in what we do.
George Cavallo, is a Team Rubicon photographer, Retired U.S. Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer, and the author of Sharks and Daisies: Tales of a Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer.
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If you’re inspired by our work, please consider supporting Team Rubicon. Whether through your time, your skills, or a donation, every bit helps. Together, we can continue making a difference—one tree, one family, and one act of kindness at a time. —Greyshirt George Cavallo
