FORT HOOD, Texas -- At a sprawling medical complex under a cloudless Central Texas sky, the line of people waiting to give blood started early Friday, with everyone still reeling from the previous day's horrific tragedy at this now-infamous Army post.

``This is our home,'' said Heather Carter, 27, of Killeen, home to Fort Hood, the largest active duty armored post in the United States. ``I just feel like [donating blood] is the least we can do.''

``We see things happen like this all the time on the news, but when it happens at home, you don't believe it,'' she said. ``That's the one place you'd think you'd be safe.''

QUICK RESPONSE

Not long after Thursday's deadly shooting, the public responded.

The Scott & White medical facility in Temple, which is a 20-minute drive from Fort Hood, was flooded with people trying to give blood Thursday night. The line was cut off at 6 p.m., but so many people were already in place it was near midnight when everyone had funneled through.

They started coming again on Friday.

``It's surreal. Both my grandfather and father fought in wars,'' said Barbara Dominguez, 35, who works at the hospital. ``It makes you think about all they've sacrificed for us. Giving blood is just a small token to give back.''

Retired Army Lt. Col. Dan Pasch spent the last year of his 33-year Army career working in the processing center where the shooting unfolded.

``The terror and the sadness, I can only imagine,'' Pasch said.

The center was supposed to be a place for soldiers to relax with family, a place of solace before being shipped out.

``I can't imagine what those women and young soldiers will have to do Monday or Tuesday,'' he said. ``You can't come back to that building. You have to go someplace else. There's hundreds and hundreds of families that are now affected. They'll have to relocate everything in that building.''

Throughout the day Friday, the mood around this region, where Fort Hood dominates everyday life, was somber and filled with sadness.

Along State Road 190 on the way to Killeen, flags hung at half staff in front of car dealerships and shopping centers.

At Henderson's Family Restaurant in Killeen, civilian and military personnel sat down for lunch Friday.

At one table was a family reunion of sorts. Lori Eaves, 44, drove about 90 miles from Bastrop to see her two sons, stationed at Fort Hood.

``There's nowhere safe,'' said Eaves, who didn't know about the shooting until she got calls from her sons letting her know they were safe.

Her father, Eugene Morse, 71, lives in Killeen. The town and post are closely intertwined. He estimated about 95 percent of the local economy comes from the post.

ONE FAMILY

For Skip Blancett, the senior pastor at the First United Methodist Church of Killeen, news of the shooting left him anguishing for hours because his daughter, Hollye Davis, was at a building next door to where the gunman started firing.

She and others were in lockdown for hours. Without a cellphone, she couldn't call home.

``They had no idea what was going on; everyone thought it was a drill at first,'' Blancett said.

He learned later she was safe, but he mourned for the victims and those working at the post. .

``When something like this happens, we become one family,'' he said. ``We all come together and take care of our own.''