September 11, 2001 - My Story

UPDATE: I've decided to feature the following, originally posted two years ago, as we approach the 5th anniversary of the event too many have forgotten.  I never will.

I wrote what I'm about to post a few weeks after that horrendous September day. It was published in our local station paper and on this 3rd anniversary I thought I'd publish it here. It brings back many memories:

On Tuesday morning, I was in Washington DC on business. Preparing for a meeting later in the day, I was working in a hotel room about 3 to 4 city blocks from the Pentagon. The television, having been turned on early in the morning but muted to minimize distraction, still managed to catch my eye as pictures of one of New York’s World Trade Center towers filled the screen. Incredulously, I could see that it was on fire. On the phone with a co-worker in Mississippi, I asked if she was watching the television. She quickly turned it on and told me that reports were saying that the fire was the result of an airplane crash. We talked in a hush, thinking of the people inside and the difficulty that fighting this fire would present.

Then to our horror, as we watched live, the second tower burst into flames. My co-worker was adamant about seeing yet another plane hit the tower. The camera angle I was watching was obstructed, and all I saw was a massive ball of flame. Then, they showed a different angle and clearly, I could see a passenger airplane directly crash into the skyscraper. I quickly hung up with my co-worker and dialed my wife. She too was aware and was in shock. We exchanged a few more words and promised to call each other later. Hanging up, I then called my father. A newshound like me and an Air Force veteran, I knew he would be watching and would be thinking about all of this and I wanted to hear what his take was. Within minutes, he was encouraging me to leave Washington and to come home. He exclaimed that these crashes were not accidents but purposeful in nature and that indeed they were terrorist attacks and that more would be coming. I frankly thought that he was perhaps overreacting. I ended the call, knowing that I had no intention of heeding my father’s advice. After all, this was happening in New York and I was miles away in Washington DC. I had work to do, important business to conduct. I sat down to my lap-top computer and tried to return to that which I had started earlier but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the terror unfolding on television. Minutes later, the room I was in shook noticeably and the shaking was followed quickly by what seemed like muffled thunder. At first, I thought that my mind was playing tricks on me. I was on the 9th floor of a high-rise hotel and quickly went to my window where I saw a number of construction workers working on the roof of a nearby high-rise apartment building. They were pointing excitedly and some were running to the far side of the building. With my father’s words of warning still echoing in my ears, I went straight to the phone and tried to call a co-worker who was on the 16th floor of the same hotel. No one answered. I tried again and after a few rings, the hotel operator picked up. I asked her if she had felt the shaking and if she had heard what sounded like thunder. In a shaken voice, she said only “something has happened sir, something has happened.” I hung up and quickly headed downstairs.

Thinking that the elevator was not a good idea, I raced down the 9 flights of stairs. In the lobby, many people were gathering, some in tears, others obviously distraught. I asked one man what had happened; he said quickly, a plane has crashed into the Pentagon. I refused to believe him. I ran out of the lobby and already hundreds of people were in the streets, all looking to my left, toward the Pentagon. As I followed their gaze, I saw a fat, wide column of thick black smoke, some of which was blowing directly overhead. And I was stunned at how nearby it was.

Knowing this too would soon be on the news, I tried phoning my family, first dialing my wife but my cell phone wouldn’t connect. I tried again, frantically, knowing that my family would also be near panic, but got an “all circuits are busy” message. I decided I would try to use the hotel room phone and headed back in, this time throwing caution to the wind and using the elevator realizing it would be quicker. I reached her and she had indeed heard the news. She was distraught but relieved to hear my voice. I told her I was readying to leave and come home and that she needed to contact my mom and dad, which she promptly did.

I then called my co-worker and told him that I had made the command decision to check out and leave. He was in my room within minutes and together we went downstairs and checked out. As we were outside waiting on the parking attendant to bring our car out of the garage, we heard what we believe now were secondary explosions but at the time we wondered if yet another plane had crashed. We were frightened and anxious. Our route home would take us that much closer to the Pentagon. By this time, rumors were flying; most of which we later learned were not true but at the moment seemed more than credible. The radio was reporting that the White House was on fire, that the State Department had been car-bombed; that a nearby office building was in flames and to our horror, that yet another plane was inbound to the Pentagon. Stuck in traffic near the hotel, we considered abandoning our car and moving into a nearby residential area but then saw an Air Force F-16 fighter circling low over the Pentagon. Feeling a bit more secure, we decided to stay with the vehicle. Taking roughly three hours to travel not much more than a mile, we finally made it to 395 South where we were soon on our way out of the city and by the grace of God, out of harm’s way. Some 7 hours or so after the crash at the Pentagon, we were in the arms of our loved ones.

The memories flood the mind. The horror when later, safely at home and with my family, I watched videotapes over and over of the towers falling. I felt so empty. So helpless.

It's been three years and in many ways it might as well be September 10th, 2001 once again. We've forgotten collectively but in the minds of those who survived, those who lost loved ones, those who understand what we're facing, those who have the will and resolve to continue the fight so that we might lessen the risk of this happening again, the memories are vivid, the recollections fresh.

And that's the way it needs to be.

I close with a Cox and Forkum drawing that links to their post commemorating the day. Click on it to go there and check out their links.