September 11, 2001 - My Story

Posted originally on September 11th, 2004 and brought to the top for the 8th anniversary of that dreadful day.

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 8th 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 eight 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.

Comments

[Tim]

Lord, have mercy. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

[Rita Chesterton]

Would someone please give me an email address for Tim Chesterton? I would like to find out if we are related ;o)

[Tim]

Rita, if you are the Rita Chesterton who has been in correspondence with my Uncle David in Ontario, we are related.

[Jorg-AtlanticReview]

The movie United 93 is described as "meticulously researched" and "based on fact", but there is not any indication that the German passenger Christian Adams was indeed a coward and appeaser and tried to stop the American heroes from storming the cockpit as the movie shows. The Guardian's film critic writes: "The film United 93 finds old Europe literally standing in the way of US derring-do. The only trouble is, it didn't happen that way."
Perhaps you are interested in my take on this in the Atlantic Review: German 9/11 Victim Defamed in "United 93" Movie.
Thanks.

[Patrick Mead]

Well written and well remembered. I drove by the Twin Towers one week before 9/11. I barely gave them a second look. It is amazing how quickly the entire world can change. God keep these things in our minds. Let us never forget.

[Tim]

Rick Mansfield also shares hi spersonal memories of that day:

http://homepage.mac.com/rmansfield/thislamp/files/cc0593abf6c9179b24f88e21f38d90d5-387.html

His reference to C.S. Lewis' sermon 'Learning in Wartime' is especially apt, I thought.

[chuck: aka, xtnyoda]

I rose early to have coffee as our cruise ship was entering Hubbard Glacier Bay and saw one of the towers fall on CNN. For three minutes I thought it was a movie.

When I realized it was live news I immediately called the ships quartermaster and reported that I was a pastor and chaplain if there was a need. Two minutes later there was a knock on our door and there stood a porter with a ship's pager with invitation to become chaplain for the ship. Incredibly, I was the only minister aboard.

It was Tuesday morning. One couple had a son who was a police officer in NYC, another had an uncle in the pentagon. It was not until Friday that we were able to find that they both survived.

The ships captain asked me to conduct a special service on Saturday morning in the theater, which was as solemn an assembly as I have ever presided over.

We will never forget.

[Fuquod]

So there’s trouble and it’s close by. A crisis is unfolding and it’s the “fog of war.” Instead of running into the crisis to ascertain the unfolding events and offer help your fellow man you run the opposite direction.
Nice…
You root for for the war from the safety your lazy boy, but when you’re blocks away from unfolding history, you cower away.

At least you’re honest about that.
Coward…

[LittleRed1]

I had gotten back from flying a patient to a bigger city in this state. It was a beautiful fall night/ early morning, and I'd gone to sleep around 0600 local time. At 0800 local my brother called. "Sis, are you listening to the radio or on the internet?" (no TV at my place). "No." "Turn on the radio. Your world just changed." He was right.
I still fly, I've started studying Islam, terrorism and counter terror matters, and work on local terror preparedness.
Lest We Forget.

[tim aka The Godless Heathen]

Always Remember - the victims

Never Forget – the occurrence

Don’t Submit – to those responsible

[Mommynator]

I was a self employed graphics designer at the time - one of my associates and I had many many clients in that area. I had worked in that area for years before, had watched the first attack on the towers in 1993 from my shared corner office at 1 Wall Street.

I spent a lot of time at the whole complex - whether it was walking to the bank to cash my check in the towers, going to lunch with coworkers in the mall underneath, working as a temp for various and sundry companies, going to Cantor & Fitzgerald's trading floors to see things first hand, I spent so much time in and around them.

The week before, my mother and I were driving to do some shopping and were driving by Liberty State Park in NJ. The towers that day were shrouded by clouds - it looked like they had disappeared.

Ironically, the day of the attack, it was a gorgeous fall day - sunny and clear as if God wanted to make sure we all saw the face of evil.

I could not watch TV. I followed what happened online. To say I was sick to much stomach would have been the understatement of the year - I knew so many people who worked in those towers, especially at Cantor Fitzgerald.

My husband works in New Jersey in a structural steel shop. He said that after the first tower was hit, all the welders climbed onto the roof of their building and watched as the second plan hit the second tower. He said that these tough, strong men were stricken with tears at the though of all the people in those buildings. The owner of the company immediately went to find out if they could volunteer to help out in what they knew would be a hell of a rescue.

My husband was stuck in NJ because all the bridges to Staten Island were shut down. He went home with the owner of the company and was not able to come home until late the next day.

My girls went to school a day later, and I the high school where my oldest girl attended was locked down because of suspicious vehicles on the Staten Island Expressway. I went up to the school to sign her out, and stood there with two off-duty cops who had been downtown right after, helping people get away and trying to organize that chaos. I overheard their conversation - they talked of strewn body parts, melted desks and other office equipment, the dust and debris.

In the months that followed, it seemed that every church and synagogue had funerals in line to accommodate the dead. Every time I drove on the West Shore Expressway, there would be truckloads of steel being taken to the Fresh Kills landfill for sorting and analysis.

And daily, new names published in the papers that everyone pored over to see who they knew who didn't make it. It was a miracle that more people didn't die in those towers - normally, there were tens of thousands of people in there.

And then there was the cloud. It wafted over to Staten Island on the prevailing winds at the time and most of us on the island succumbed to a viral-type cough and congestion. The EDs were full of people with respiratory complaints.

So much more could be described and said.

I'm not sure it's wise to dig it all up again - defeating a clinical depression was not easy.

I'll surely never forget. And I won't submit to the evil persons who deliberately choose murder of innocents.

[J.Adams]

Forget? Hell no. I couldn,t believe what I was watching on TV. went from someone who almost accepted Islam as my faith in 1971 to someone who thought Moslems must be the most ignorant people on the planet.I have now no more respect for anyone stupid enough to be a muslim. J.Adams

[bh's youngest (coolest) son]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oOW-1OwtCA&feature=related

I think its worth 5 minutes of your time.

[Rick aka Mr. Brutally Honest]

Well worth it son… thanks.