By Kirstin Downey
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Harry Kinnard, 92, has given much for his country.
He was at Pearl Harbor on the morning of the Japanese attack, manning a machine gun to defend the base. He parachuted behind enemy lines on D-Day to help secure the beachhead and later played a key role in the Battle of the Bulge. He served in Vietnam, including in one battle so ferocious it was made into a movie.
Now the retired Army lieutenant general, who is under hospice care in his house in South Arlington, says he feels like he is fighting a losing battle. The enemy this time is mind-numbing noise from a trio of pile drivers operating 12 hours a day as Arlington County rebuilds its massive sewage treatment plant a few blocks from his split-level home.
"It's annoying, it's nerve-racking, but they apparently have the clout to continue it, and nobody knows how to stop it," said Kinnard, who has a nerve disorder.
Some noise readings in the area have exceeded 100 decibels, higher than the 55 decibels federal and state officials recommend as a reasonable intensity in suburban neighborhoods. Noise is measured in increments much like earthquakes: 73 decibels is twice as loud as 70.
Arlington officials generally disapprove of excessive noise and have taken steps in the past to crack down on noise abusers, including a Good Humor vendor. The county's noise ordinance outlaws construction noise that exceeds 90 decibels. Emergency repairs to public utilities are exempt.
Arlington officials have budgeted more than $700,000 to reduce noise at the plant site, but so far all attempts are failing, leaving hundreds of South Arlington residents to live with the din from the driver, which hammers the "legs," or piles, into the ground, supporting the plant's foundation.
A noise-reducing pad disintegrated. Hanging curtains on the pile driver didn't work; another technique using magnets had no noticeable effect. A hairpin device that sits atop the pile to disperse the impact seemed ineffective at reducing the racket. The county's hopes that a hydraulic hammer would prove the solution were dashed when officials learned that only a few such devices worldwide were large enough to do the work, and none of them are available.
"We've tried anything we can find, period," said Phil Loar, the plant's director of community relations.
Arlington's elected officials agree with the residents about the loud noise, but although they have asked the county government to find a solution, they emphasize that Arlington is under a court order to upgrade the plant.
Acoustics specialists say there is little that can be done.
"Unfortunately there is no magic bullet here," said Boston-based noise engineer Erich Thalheimer, who worked on Boston's Big Dig, the Woodrow Wilson Bridge replacement and a light rail project in Denver. "Pile driving is exceedingly noisy, and it is still a necessary component of this kind of construction."
Arlington officials say the work is vital as the aging structure, the primary water treatment plant that serves 203,000 residents, is spewing waste into the Chesapeake Bay. But because the site is on marshy land near a river, it is necessary to drive about 2,300 piles 100 feet into the ground. Workers have to pound the piles so deep because, unlike most buildings, these structures are especially heavy because they are essentially massive containers of water, sewage and chemicals. The project will take at least two more years.
Residents say they don't know whether they can tolerate the noise that long. Research has found that loud noise affects people's mental and physical health. According to the World Health Organization, prolonged or excessive exposure to noise can cause medical conditions such as hypertension and sleep problems and can increase aggression.
"For some people it's almost a public health emergency," said Louise Garris, who lives nearby. She said the pile-driving makes people irritable and anxious and recalled how a glass of water placed on a neighbor's table shook with the vibration of the pounding noise.
Kinnard's wife, Libby, said she believes that her husband's health is deteriorating as a result of the constant clamor. She said his doctor has recommended extra rest and avoiding stress, but the county's efforts to improve water safety for other Arlingtonians is coming at the expense of her husband's well-being.
Normally upbeat and outgoing, Libby, 83, said she is also experiencing extreme distress as a result of the noise, which is making it harder for her to provide care for her ailing husband.
"I don't think it is getting any better," she said. "I think it is getting worse."
Her husband tried to be more stoic. Looking frail during an interview in his home, Kinnard described his military experiences. When the Germans demanded the Allied forces surrender at Bastogne, Kinnard said he suggested to Division Commander Gen. Anthony McAuliffe that the only correct response would be "Nuts," which was the answer the general gave the Germans.
The division Kinnard led during the Vietnam War, the 1st Cavalry Division, known as the Air Cav, was depicted in the Mel Gibson movie "We Were Soldiers Once," focusing on the bloody battle of Ia Drang.
Now Kinnard is trying to take this latest ordeal like the soldier he is.
"It's one of those things that just happened," he said. "It's the nature of service in the Army that you take what has to be done and you do your best."
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