Some 3.5 million people fled their homes in Oklahoma, Texas, and elsewhere, the bone-dry landscape, blistering heat and choking dust storms unfit for growing and raising the crops and cattle they relied on to survive.
Thousands more, many of them children and seniors, could not escape, killed by an infection dubbed "dust pneumonia" and other illnesses tied not just to the extreme weather and poor living conditions but to massive, fast-moving dust clouds.
Those clouds and barren terrain across much of middle America gave this period of despair its name: the Dust Bowl.
There were suicides, there were bankruptcies, there were people scrapping for whatever they could find to live. And these were not overnight horror stories: They were repeated day after day and year after year, at a time when much of the United States and world was already debilitated by the Great Depression.
"If you can imagine what's happening now and multiply it by a factor of four or five, that's what it was like," said Bill Ganzel, a Nebraska-based media producer who interviewed survivors of the 1930s' environmental and economic disaster and penned a book, "Dust Bowl Descent." "And it lasted for the entire decade."
Nothing in U.S. history can compare to that calamity of eight decades ago, including the historic drought now gripping much of the country.
That doesn't mean, though, there isn't considerable suffering and devastation now in most of the United States. Or that dire conditions could well persist for several years, as they did during the 1930s -- compounding negative impacts of drought, thus ruining even more livelihoods and lives despite technological and agricultural advancements of recent years.
"Mother Nature holds all the cards," said Mark Svoboda, a climatologist with the National Drought Mitigation Center. "You roll the dice ... every year. Nothing will make you quote-unquote drought-proof."
This year, Hurricane Isaac helped alleviate the current drought in some locales, but not in most, and certainly nowhere near enough to put a big dent in a phenomenon that's affected millions.
Is it happening again?
Over 63 percent of the contiguous United States in early September was suffering moderate to exceptional drought, nearly twice the land affected a year ago, according to the U.S. Drought Monitor. Using July data, the National Climatic Data Center reported that America is in the midst of its most expansive drought since December 1956.
The combination of dry conditions and extreme heat -- including hundreds of record-breaking temperatures this summer -- has been unbearable for many. The drought's impact has been seen in ways big and small, from leaves falling early and lawns turning brown to farmers giving up and lakes drying up, exposing hundreds of dead fish.
"It does look like a moonscape," Svoboda said of parts of western Oklahoma, where dirt drifts into mounds and soil climbs over fence posts. "There are some parts of the country where (dire farming conditions) have nothing to do with them failing to till over the soil," as was commonly blamed for "dust storms" of the 1930s.
Driving through southern Wisconsin, CNN iReporter Jim Jostad saw heap after heap of chopped-down corn sacrificed by farmers who had conceded this year's crop, hoping if anything to salvage some of the loss by selling off as cattle feed what did sprout up.
Dozens of farmers markets in Oklahoma were without vendors months earlier than had been expected because their bounty was so meager, said Nathan Kirby of the state's Department of Agriculture, a year after closing even earlier due to similarly hot, arid conditions.
While consumers may be worried about rising food prices tied to the drought, many farmers have seen their incomes all but evaporate because crops won't grow -- finding even irrigated farmlands cannot pump in enough moisture, given the rate it evaporates back into the atmosphere in high heat.
It hasn't been easier for those who raising cattle and other animals, at a time of scorched pastures and scanty, costly hay and other feed. Ranchers have been forced to prematurely sell off their cattle, saying they had no other choice because it cost more to feed them than to keep them.
Oklahoma ranchers "liquidated" -- meaning slaughtered or sold off, without replacing them with newborns or new purchases -- 14 percent of their livestock last year, said Derrell Peel, an Oklahoma State University faculty member who works with ranchers and affiliated companies in that state. The only reason rates haven't been similarly high after this summer is because ranchers don't have as many animals to sell, he said.
Families trying to make a living raising cattle have been especially hard pressed. Take Mark Argall of Mountain Grove, Mo., who sold 33 of his cherished cows (leaving only a few behind) for less than half what they might have earned before the drought.
"They're not just numbers on a computer," Argall said. "They're members of the family."