On July 4, 2025, as the United States celebrated Independence Day, a catastrophic flash flood tore through Central Texas, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. The Guadalupe River, swollen by torrential rains that dumped up to 15 inches in a matter of hours, rose 26 feet in less than 45 minutes, transforming the serene Texas Hill Country into a deadly landscape. Among the hardest-hit areas was Camp Mystic, a nearly century-old Christian summer camp for girls located along the river’s banks in Kerr County. The disaster, one of the deadliest for children in recent U.S. history, claimed at least 119 lives, including 27 campers and counselors from Camp Mystic alone. As the nation mourns, stories of survival and loss have emerged, none more haunting than those of teenage counselors who, in a desperate bid to ensure identification, wrote the names of young campers on their bodies as floodwaters surged.

A Night of Terror at Camp Mystic

Camp Mystic, nestled among oak and cypress trees in the picturesque Texas Hill Country, has been a beloved summer retreat for generations of girls since the 1930s. On the night of July 4, approximately 750 girls, aged 8 to 17, were in residence, many asleep in cabins near the river. The camp, known for fostering friendships, faith, and outdoor activities, was unprepared for the sheer ferocity of the storm. The Guadalupe River, typically a gentle feature of the camp’s idyllic setting, became a raging torrent, sweeping away cabins, trees, and lives.

Silvana Garza Valdez and María Paula Zárate, two teenage counselors at Camp Mystic’s Cypress Lake site, found themselves at the heart of the crisis. As survivors from the main camp were evacuated to their location, the reality of the disaster set in. Floodwaters were rising rapidly, and the counselors faced an unimaginable choice: to prepare for the worst. In a chilling act of foresight, they began writing their own names on their skin, using whatever markers were available, ensuring that their identities would be known if they were swept away. They then extended this grim precaution to the young campers in their care, inscribing names on arms, legs, and torsos—anywhere visible.

“We started to write our names on our skin, anywhere that was visible,” María told Mexican news outlet NMas in a Spanish-language interview. “We did the same for the girls, wrote their names anywhere that was easy to see.” The act was born of necessity, a desperate measure to ensure that, in the chaos of the flood, no one would be lost without a trace. Silvana and María described maintaining a calm facade for the campers, who were beginning to panic as the tragedy unfolded. “We put on a happy face,” Silvana said, despite the terror gripping their hearts.

The Human Toll: Stories of Loss and Heroism

The flood’s toll was staggering. By Wednesday, July 9, 2025, at least 119 people had been confirmed dead, with 161 still missing in Kerr County alone. Among the victims were 28 children, many from Camp Mystic, where the loss of 27 campers and counselors shattered the camp’s tight-knit community. The camp’s longtime director, Richard “Dick” Eastland, perished while attempting to rescue girls, earning posthumous praise as a hero. “If he wasn’t going to die of natural causes, this was the only other way, saving the girls that he so loved and cared for,” his grandson George wrote on Instagram.

The stories of the victims are heartrending. Eight-year-old Renee Smajstrla, a straight-A student from Ingram, Texas, was among those lost. Described as a “great classmate, friend, and teammate,” she had played a munchkin in her school’s production of The Wizard of Oz and dreamed of starring in a camp play. Her uncle, Shawn Salta, shared a photo of her beaming at Camp Mystic the day before the flood, noting, “She will forever be living her best life at Camp Mystic.”

Sisters Blair and Brooke Harber, aged 13 and 11, were staying in a family cabin near the river when the flood struck. Their father, RJ Harber, described Blair as a “gifted student with a generous kind heart” and Brooke as “a light in any room.” The sisters were found with their hands “locked together,” a testament to their bond even in their final moments. Their grandparents, Charlene and Mike Harber, remain missing.

Chloe Childress, a 19-year-old counselor set to attend the University of Texas at Austin, was remembered for her “contagious joy” and “steady compassion.” She had returned to Camp Mystic to mentor young girls, a role she cherished. “She lived a beautiful life that saturated those around her with grace and faith,” her family said. Similarly, Jane Ragsdale, director of the nearby Heart O’ the Hills camp, was lauded as the “heart and soul” of her camp, embodying the strength she sought to instill in her campers.

Acts of Courage Amid Chaos

Amid the tragedy, stories of courage and resilience emerged. Counselors at Camp Mystic were reported to have led girls in song and prayer as floodwaters surged, providing comfort in the face of terror. “Lord have mercy, they understood the assignment,” said one observer, recounting how counselors remained steadfast as lightning flashed and waters rose. Texas Game Wardens and first responders evacuated campers across a bridge, tying ropes to guide them through knee-deep water. Over 850 people were rescued in the first 36 hours, some clinging to trees or stranded in isolated camps.

One survivor, Callie, a camper on Senior Hill, was rescued from the floodwaters and reunited with her mother, Tara. The sight of Callie’s name tag, still affixed to her clothing, brought Tara to tears. “This was not an environment we ever thought we would have to prepare her for,” Tara said, praising her daughter’s quick thinking. Callie later spoke of the shock of learning that younger campers, some of whom she had hugged just days earlier, were among the lost.

Julian Ryan, a 27-year-old father, died a hero while saving his family from their flooded trailer in Ingram. As water surged to waist level, he punched through a window to free his fiancée, Christina Wilson, and their two young sons, who survived by floating on a mattress. “He died a hero, and that will never go unnoticed,” his sister, Connie Salas, told reporters.

A Community in Mourning

The aftermath of the flood has left Central Texas reeling. Kerr County, dubbed “Flash Flood Alley” for its vulnerability to sudden deluges, saw 94 bodies recovered, a third of them children. The search for survivors, now largely a recovery effort, continues amidst debris-strewn landscapes and mud-caked cabins. Volunteers, including U.S. Army veteran Sandi Gilmer, have joined rescue teams, sifting through wreckage and recovering personal items like a water-soaked family photo album. “I don’t know how many people in this album are alive or deceased,” Gilmer said, underscoring the scale of the loss.

Communities across Texas have rallied to honor the victims. At Saint Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church in Dallas, over 600 people gathered for a prayer service, reciting the names of the fallen, including 9-year-old Lila Bonner. Green bows adorn trees in Austin in memory of 8-year-old Linnie McCown, described as a “shining light.” Alabama Senator Katie Britt expressed heartbreak over the loss of 8-year-old Sarah Marsh, a camper from Mountain Brook.

Questions and Reflections

The disaster has sparked questions about preparedness and early warning systems. The National Weather Service issued flash flood warnings in the early hours of July 4, but the intensity of the downpour—equivalent to months of rain—caught many off guard. Some experts have pointed to staffing cuts at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration under the Trump administration as a potential factor in inadequate forecasting, though President Trump has denied these claims. Texas Governor Greg Abbott, who described the devastation as “nothing short of horrific,” has vowed to continue the search for every missing person, stating, “We won’t stop until we find every girl who was in those cabins.”

The flood’s ferocity has also reignited discussions about climate change, with research indicating that warming temperatures are making extreme rainfall events more frequent. The tragedy underscores the need for updated infrastructure and robust warning systems in flood-prone regions like the Texas Hill Country.

A Lasting Legacy

As Central Texas begins the long process of recovery, the stories of those lost and those who survived will endure. The image of young girls with their names scrawled on their bodies is a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the strength of human resolve. For the families of the victims, the pain is unimaginable, yet many have found solace in the outpouring of support from across the nation. Camp Mystic, once a symbol of joy and tradition, now stands as a place of both profound loss and remarkable bravery.

In the words of one parent, whose daughter survived, “The families of those campers are living every parent’s worst nightmare.” Yet, amidst the grief, there is a collective determination to honor the memories of the fallen—children like Renee, Blair, Brooke, and Lila, and heroes like Dick Eastland and Julian Ryan—by rebuilding and remembering the light they brought to the world.