I remember waking up that morning pissed that the Giants lost to Denver the night before. The events of that day really put things in perspective.
I was late because of that game, my Path train pulled into the WTC and they wouldnt let us off, so i never made it in that day. When i got back to Jersey City to get on the ferry I watched the second plane hit.
Inspector Donald G. Feser
New York City Police Department, New York
End of Watch Saturday, September 12, 2009
DONALD G. FESER
Inspector Donald Feser died from illnesses he contracted while inhaling toxic materials as he participated in the rescue and recovery efforts at the World Trade Center site following the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.
Inspector Feser had responded to the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 and commanded a unit that was instrumental in helping emergency vehicles pass and civilians escape. He was nearly killed when his vehicle was crushed as one of the towers fell. Following the attack, Inspector Feser spent many hours at the Ground Zero site as part of the rescue effort.
Inspector Feser had served with the New York City Police Department for 37 years and was the Commanding Officer of the Manhattan Traffic Task Force.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001, seventy-two officers from a total of eight local, state, and federal agencies were killed when terrorist hijackers working for the al Qaeda terrorist network, headed by Osama bin Laden, crashed four hijacked planes into the World Trade Center towers in New York City, the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, and a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Special thank you to the responders and military. Prayers to all the families who lost loved ones. I'll never forget where I was and what I was doing that day.
I remember waking up that morning pissed that the Giants lost to Denver the night before. The events of that day really put things in perspective.
I was late because of that game, my Path train pulled into the WTC and they wouldnt let us off, so i never made it in that day. When i got back to Jersey City to get on the ferry I watched the second plane hit.
An administrator at our school lost a family member that day. Watching her frantically running out of the building in a panic still haunts me when I think about it. I was in 4th period history class when the towers fell. It was literally, not figuratively, unbelievable.
I grew up in Monmouth county and can remember watching from across Sandy Hook bay the cloud of smoke that by late afternoon was stretched out as far as you could see over the Atlantic Ocean.
I remember crying a lot that fall. I cried before every one of my high school football games when they played the national anthem. It was a very surreal time in all our lives. The further we get from the day, the harder it is for me to believe that it happened. I still can't imagine the fate that many of those innocent people faced that morning.
How great the country came together. Everyone put aside all differences, people forgot their allegiances for a bit. My positive memory of that time. Truly remarkable considering how bad things have got over time since.
I was on active duty (Army) in Colorado Springs... Â
I spent Monday working in Cheyenne Mountain on an upgrade. I was part of a large team pushing really hard on an upgrade to the operations center and got ahead of schedule. I took a couple of days off to spend some time with my family.
I was helping my Wife get our boys off to school and half-watching the TV. The first tower was smoking and I was wondering what could have caused a 'small plane' to hit the tower. As I watched, the second plane flew into view and hit the tower. My immediate reaction was to yell to my wife, "we're at war!" Of course she had no idea what I was talking about. I couldn't explain to her that this could not be an accident and it was probably just the beginning..."The beginning of what?" she said.
I called the watch officer in the mountain immediately and they were being notified of the second plane. They got the order to button-up and seal the blast door and dropped me. The blast door closure was always and exercise; something we did annually for practice. This was the first time it was ever done 'for real.' There was no entry or exit. They knew nothing in the opns center and neither did I, but I knew there was something brewing. Calm, but chaotic is the best description. I told my wife that we shouldn't let the kids go to school. There was probably nothing to worry about (I really believed that), but there was bad stuff happening. I was 100% on watch to protect my family at this point. It was very clear that this was an act of war, but who were we at war with? It was the last time I was able to talk to a watch team for several days as they sorted the situation out -- it was me and my family. Within a very few hours, the mountain (NORAD) had shut-down US airspace. The morning was surreal as the Pentagon got hit and the plane in Shanksville went down and about 2pm, I saw several F-16's flying CAP over Colorado Springs. I had to stop watching television, because all of the rumors were frustrating and the unfolding tragedy was too much. The pictures of the people jumping from the towers was the final straw and I never want to see those images again.
I found out days later, two of my cousins one a police officer and the other a fire captain were at the towers when they collapsed. Both survived, but had harrowing stories of their experiences. Both lost friends and collegues. Yeah... never forget.
woke up that morning not realizing that the path my life (and those of all of my classmates) would take had forever been altered by the events of that morning. We all went to bed on the 10th believing in one thing and woke up to a world that would demand far more from us than we ever really thought about.
It still is unbelievable how much a handful of fanatics can change the course of human history and cause so much pain and suffering.
We all went to bed on the 10th believing in one thing and woke up to a world that would demand far more from us than we ever really thought about.
Ain't that the truth. I enlisted in March 2001, and while you knew that you COULD get sent to war, I didn't think it would actually happen. They held a formation that night and our first sergeant was telling us about when he was in Desert Storm and Somalia, and I was sitting there thinking "Damn, all this is for real now"
when "some people did some things", I had offices in the Pentagon and Crystal City. I worked for what was BMDO, now MDA, in those days and I had just taken a job in Dahlgren which was much closer to home and easier to commute to.
BMDO was in the basement of the Pentagon on nearly the opposite side of the building that was hit, so no collegues were involved, thankfully. However, there used to be a series of buildings overlooking the Pentagon called "Federal Office Buildings" 1, 2, and 3 or FOB 1, 2, and 3. They are now gone, razed to make more room for Arlington Cemetary. There was a conference room in FOB 3 that BMDO used for large meetings and on that day, about 40 of my collegues were in that room when the plane flew over, across the parking lots, and into the Pentagon. They watched the plane hit the building.
My phone, such as it was in 2001, was ringing non-stop for about two hours because many of my friends and family hadn't known yet that I was no longer working in the Pentagon.
The base I worked (and still work on) in Dahlgren was evactuated and we were sent home for basically the rest of the week.
I didn't arrive to BBI until 2003, but someone had archived the entire 9/11 thread that went on for several days here and had posted it a few years in a row. That thread seems to have disappeared from the internet, replaced by a much less informative one from that day. That one has been posted often in rememberence.
The original post is heartbreaking, chilling, and a perfect reminder to "NEVER Forget".
God bless those lost, and those that went in to help.
and pain. So much lost, and in retrospect, so is that special unity that made us all Americans for that short moment of time.
I honestly still shed a tear on this day remembering what a beautiful day it was and how ugly it got in a hurry.
God Bless those who willingly went in to rescue so many.
To Dick Morgan, RIP
In the past other folks have told their stories here and I've really appreciated it. I'll tell my story here one day--it's not nearly as intense as others (I wasn't downtown) but it happened.
I just wanted to chime in to reiterate what a few posters said about rumors that day. If there are any young folks reading this, 9/11 was before smart phones, twitter, etc. The rumors were flying around and literally the unthinkable just happened, so what wasn't to believe? It was a small part of that day but something that might not hit home for future generations. Just kind of added to the panic and doom.
RE: Here is a link to the synopsis of the original thread Â
But those immediate first responders and subsequent responders that not only risked their lives in the moment but surely have, are or will pay the price through excruciating health decline are bonafide heroes. I shake my head in disbelief at how selfless and good hearted these people were and are. These individuals should be constantly held up as the best that this country has to offer.
Mrs S and I were both in lower Manhattan not far from the WTC Â
We all went to bed on the 10th believing in one thing and woke up to a world that would demand far more from us than we ever really thought about.
Ain't that the truth. I enlisted in March 2001, and while you knew that you COULD get sent to war, I didn't think it would actually happen. They held a formation that night and our first sergeant was telling us about when he was in Desert Storm and Somalia, and I was sitting there thinking "Damn, all this is for real now"
While I can't speak for anyone else in my class (we were the first class to graduate and get commissioned post-9/11), I had envisioned my obligatory time being spent training and possibly doing a MEU or two (if I was lucky). And my friends, who would go the Navy route (most of them pilots) were just itching to live out their dreams of flying jets (only a few ended up with jets) without any thought of actual combat sorties, etc.
Things didn't turn out that way...not even close.
RE: Always a must watch for me on the anniversary, Â
from the Pentagon. I was sleeping one off after the Giants loss the night before when my land line rang. It was my older brother in Silver Spring, MD. He told me to get up and turn on the news. I ran over to the TV and turned it on moments after the second plane hit. I was in disbelief. My parents were living in Hawaii at this time so I asked him if I should call and wake them up. He said let's just wait and see if this is some kind of fluke before we scare them. Not too long after the report came that the pentagon was hit. My brother asked if I heard anything, I said no I don't think that can be right. I went out on my balcony and looked east, my view looked directly to Arlington National Cemetery and my building was on top of large hill. Sure enough I could see the smoke. I told my brother it's legit. He said call mom and dad and then get the F out of Arlington.
I had the unfortunate pleasure of calling my parents at about 3am their time. My dad answered in a fog and the first words I could think to say were "We are under attack" (I was 21, so probably not the best choice of words). He was at attention immediately, being a Vietnam Veteran in the Air Force he was well versed in scrambles late at night. His first question was am I safe. Second question was are your brother and sister safe. I told him we are all fine, Michael had spoken to Allison and she was at work in Fairfax and he was still at home in Silver Spring. My dad said get out of Arlington you're too close to DC, and go by Allison's work and either take her with you or make sure she doesn't go back to Arlington. (She had a condo in the same building as me).
I'll never forget hopping on I66 W, sitting in gridlock trying to get to Fairfax to get to my sister. I66E was nothing but emergency vehicles, unmarked cars with lights, and assorted military FLYING up from as far down as Manassass from what I saw. And above in the clear blue sky on that brisk Tuesday morning, fighter planes were racing by every few minutes. Absolute insanity. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
I was there for the prior bombing (in the subway just before Cortland st), I was walking out of 3WTC for 9/11, and this morning I had to change my route and was on the 1 just after Rector when the train stalled. The conductor said we were being held there momentarily, we were stopped for awhile, and some jackass said they saw on their phone that it was for a suspicious package. Some tense moments later we started moving again.
The police presence is extremely heavy today, though.
Danny's memorial service is something I'll never forget Â
Hundreds of uniformed firemen from all over the country, standing in formation outside the church, and two ladder trucks with ladders fully extended and one of the biggest American flags I've ever seen suspended between them.
from the Pentagon. I was sleeping one off after the Giants loss the night before when my land line rang. It was my older brother in Silver Spring, MD. He told me to get up and turn on the news. I ran over to the TV and turned it on moments after the second plane hit. I was in disbelief. My parents were living in Hawaii at this time so I asked him if I should call and wake them up. He said let's just wait and see if this is some kind of fluke before we scare them. Not too long after the report came that the pentagon was hit. My brother asked if I heard anything, I said no I don't think that can be right. I went out on my balcony and looked east, my view looked directly to Arlington National Cemetery and my building was on top of large hill. Sure enough I could see the smoke. I told my brother it's legit. He said call mom and dad and then get the F out of Arlington.
I had the unfortunate pleasure of calling my parents at about 3am their time. My dad answered in a fog and the first words I could think to say were "We are under attack" (I was 21, so probably not the best choice of words). He was at attention immediately, being a Vietnam Veteran in the Air Force he was well versed in scrambles late at night. His first question was am I safe. Second question was are your brother and sister safe. I told him we are all fine, Michael had spoken to Allison and she was at work in Fairfax and he was still at home in Silver Spring. My dad said get out of Arlington you're too close to DC, and go by Allison's work and either take her with you or make sure she doesn't go back to Arlington. (She had a condo in the same building as me).
I'll never forget hopping on I66 W, sitting in gridlock trying to get to Fairfax to get to my sister. I66E was nothing but emergency vehicles, unmarked cars with lights, and assorted military FLYING up from as far down as Manassass from what I saw. And above in the clear blue sky on that brisk Tuesday morning, fighter planes were racing by every few minutes. Absolute insanity. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
My God, that blue sky. Can't forget it. Feels like we havent had one like that since.
the word "heroes" gets thrown around a lot everyday. But true definition of heroes are those first responders, who ran into the buildings that day and those passengers, who took action to prevent more deaths that day.
of tower 2. Her brother was off duty FDNY going golfing that morning. He was in the pro shop and saw the first plane hit on the tv there. He made it to the station but everyone was already gone. The FDNY chaplain was the only one there and the two of them headed down to help.
Meanwhile his sister in tower 2 had evacuated down to a lower floor with her whole office. They then gave the all clear to go back up to work. She decided to get a coffee before heading back up. A few minutes later the 2nd plane hit and everyone in her office was killed. She was able to safely evacuate the building after that.
Her brother and the chaplain were killed when tower 1 fell.
Even after all this time I fall to pieces every time I think about it.
The following piece by legendary columnist Jimmy Breslin appeared in the Jewish World Review in October 2001. It carried the headline “Hero Husband Found at Last.”
It was about Angela Danz, who was summoned to the base of the fallen towers, amid the recovery efforts, to witness the discovery of the remains of her husband, our cousin, Vincent Danz. Vin had been among the first on the scene that crisp September Tuesday morning in 2001.
+++
The line of men in red, white or blue hard hats went up the path through the wreckage of the old World Trade Center to the smoke at the top of the gray hill. It was one of four clouds of smoke coming from deep in the guts of the ground. This smoke rose to the top of a 40-story financial building.
There were about 200 men on the hill in white, blue or red hard hats and they were passing down five-gallon buckets. At the bottom of the hill, two men stood with a four-foot by three-foot screen and the buckets were emptied onto the screen and they shook the screen as if they were trying to find coins at the beach. They were looking for any trace, any identification of the dead in the gray wreckage. Often they would shake the screen and get a hand, a piece of a heel.
At 1:30 yesterday afternoon they were digging in the smoke at the top, and somebody came up with a credit card for Officer Vincent Danz. He was in the wreckage right under them, they all agreed. The hands reached into the gray rubble.
By 3 o'clock a truck from emergency service unit three in the Bronx pulled into the lot and parked at the foot of the hill. If it was Danz's body, it was theirs to carry. He had been part of a high-rise rescue team.
"That's the widow," a sergeant, Ricky Kemmler, said.
A few steps away, a light-haired young woman who wore a short tan coat and a white hard hat stood with her hand being held by Joseph Dunne, who is the deputy police commissioner.
"She lives on the Island. They called her," somebody said.
"She already had a memorial service for him. I was there," Andrew McGinnis, a sergeant, said.
"In Farmingdale," another one said. "It was the first one for an officer."
"I think she's from Ireland. She had the guts to get up and speak at the memorial. She has three kids. I know she said something funny about meeting him in a bar."
"I met my two wives in bars," I said.
The widow, Angela Danz, was silent and there was no talking around her. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she was not close to weeping. This is the toughest breed of them, a young woman who now raises three kids, with the oldest 8, while living in loneliness.
She stood in the mud and before her was the coliseum where her husband fought his last fight for her. The wreckage strewn everywhere looked exactly like it was, buildings dropped from the sky. A few high thick stubborn metal teeth of the south tower were still rooted in the gray mud.
The remains of a wall of the north tower leaned backward, as if resting against a fence.
Off to the right, yellow smoke came up in billows. Water from a hose attached to a hydrant that somehow had lasted was played with great force at the yellow smoke. It did not stop.
A large machine, a grappler, dug into the earth around the yellow smoke. As the grappler came up with its jaws clamped on pieces of steel and mud, the yellow smoke subsided for a few moments. Then it burst angrily out of the spot.
A dozen cranes waved angrily high in the smoke. Everywhere in the mud, generators barked and dozens of back hoes and grapplers chewed on the disaster.
She watched with strength stronger than the buildings that killed her husband. She was out of the old coal mine disasters, with women waiting at the top of the elevator for news of their husbands in a fire below.
Except this time, Angela Danz knew that her husband was dead. She had already eulogized him in a church. Right now, the least they could do was get her the body.
On the hill in front of her, twin lines of men went up the hill, that is several stories high. Then at the top it hooked to the right. The head of the line was lost in the smoke.
Now a police commander in white uniform shirt climbed to the turn in the line, kept going and disappeared into the smoke.
"Esposito," somebody said. He is Joseph Esposito, the chief of the department.
"I never saw a guy that big get down and work with the men," one of the cops said.
Up on the hill, the white, red or blue hard hats bobbed and at the top they formed a little circle around something and then burst like a soap bubble. Some hard hats went to one line and the rest to the other. Now they took off their hard hats and saluted.
"It looks like they got him," the sergeant, Kemmler, said.
The cranes and ground machinery stopped. The generators were turned off.
"It looks like we had a good day," another enthused. They dig all day, day after day, and do not find many bodies.
"If that's what you call it," somebody said.
Dunne and the widow walked a few steps to the emergency service truck parked at the bottom of the hill.
At the top; Esposito's white shirt appeared. He was in front of a gurney that was cloaked with an American flag.
Somebody called, "They want police officers up on the line."
McGinnis and Kemmler walked up the hill and got on a line.
Now Esposito walked first down the slope. Walked slowly, for they could not slip with the gurney. Men in the lines on either side saluted.
At the bottom of the slope, Esposito had the pallbearers step at an even slower funeral pace.
Dunne and the widow went to the back of the truck.
Esposito led the men with the gurney to the back of the truck.
Now there was no motion or sound for several seconds. They prayed over the body.
Then Dunne and Angela Danz came from the back of the truck and walked away.
The hard hats filed along the truck and formed an honor guard for many yards from the front of the truck. A patrol car moved in front.
All saluted. The patrol car roof light went on and the big emergency truck followed through the mud. It went past the great hole that looked down on what had been a subway station. Then they went out onto the streets and headed for the morgue on First Avenue with the body the widow and his emergency outfit had wanted so much.
...I was 20 when I started working there, a wide-eyed kid blown away by the enormity of the buildings and the mall complex beneath. Fell in love with it. Knew it inside and out, and when it fell it was like watching my High School burn down.
Just awful.
To me, it's a day to appreciate first responders. The guys who headed up the stairs. All those who died and suffered for no good reason.
But 'Never Forget'? Hell, I do my best to forget. What sadist wants to remember the fear and uncertainty of that day? It's like people savor PTSD or something.
That's a fantastic Jimmy Breslin piece, BTW Beez... Â
...to me, he and Pete Hamill were narrators for my experience working in the city in the 80's and 90's. They were the conscience of the city, their writing was art.
The North Myrtle Beach candlelight remembrance event starts at 7pm tonite. This is a very moving ceremony with a short walk down Main St to the ocean where floral wreaths are sent adrift with the tide. There’s usually a strong turnout. This morning, there were many people and flags on area bridges and overpasses. Never Forget, Never Forgive.
How can you forget? We are still in Afghanistan and Iraq Â
The North Myrtle Beach candlelight remembrance event starts at 7pm tonite. This is a very moving ceremony with a short walk down Main St to the ocean where floral wreaths are sent adrift with the tide. There’s usually a strong turnout. This morning, there were many people and flags on area bridges and overpasses. Never Forget, Never Forgive.
Never Forgive. Yeah, that's the spirit. Never Forget to Hate. And that's what bugs me about this day each year - that undertone. They can all shove it up their ass.
Can't. The NYC skyline I grew up with has forever been erased.
I have described this multiple times here on BBI, but feel it is the moment that really hit home for me. At that time I lived in Brooklyn off the N line. The N would go above ground and run across the Manhattan Bridge when it would cross the East River. Every day, I could look out the subway window and see those two amazing big buildings. I just loved it. But on that day on my way home, they were gone. Replaced by a giant pillar of smoke. No one said a word. Other than the sound of the train, it was totally silent. Easily one of the saddest moments of my life to see nothing where once there was greatness.
Don’t know how else to describe it. I didn’t lose any relatives or go to war or anything, but it’s just a vivid before/after moment in life that no other event personal or otherwise can compare to.
Remember the whole day vividly and don’t imagine I’ll ever forget it. Crazy how it’s been 18 years, the people in the photos are really starting to feel dated. The clothing, etc. That’s a strange feeling, it seems like it was just yesterday but it’s been a long time. Was 16 when the attacks happened, 34 now.
I recognize it was an American story and event and I don’t mean to downplay that, I know people around the country and world were affected. For me it’s always been a very New York-centric event though. I had grown up in NJ with the city right there but I never really felt a strong connection to the New York area until that happened. Had you asked me on 9/10/01 I doubt very much I would have expressed any strong connection with the area or any desire to stay long term, but aside from college I’ve never really left and can’t really imagine it. There’s no place like New York. It has a lot of problems but it’s a special place, lived around it my whole life and in the city for about a decade now and I’m glad it’s home.
Can't. The NYC skyline I grew up with has forever been erased.
I have described this multiple times here on BBI, but feel it is the moment that really hit home for me. At that time I lived in Brooklyn off the N line. The N would go above ground and run across the Manhattan Bridge when it would cross the East River. Every day, I could look out the subway window and see those two amazing big buildings. I just loved it. But on that day on my way home, they were gone. Replaced by a giant pillar of smoke. No one said a word. Other than the sound of the train, it was totally silent. Easily one of the saddest moments of my life to see nothing where once there was greatness.
Mad...could you please email me? I've lost your email address. rnargi@hotmail.com
I was driving south on 355 into Bethesda, MD. And the traffic was unusually heavy. I had Imus on and he was talking to Warner Wolf, who lived close to the WTC, and Wolf was describing what he saw. The working assumption was it was a small aircraft that crashed.
As a few have mentioned, the sky that day was beautiful. The visibility seemed like forever. And you could feel Fall around the corner.
As we crawled around a right bend, I remember seeing huge gray smoke clouds climbing into the sky from the south. They kept growing bigger and bigger with every second. My instinct was there was a pretty big fire somewhere in DC.
Back on Imus, they were reporting a second plane had hit the other tower. And it was clear to them this was a terrorist attack.
Almost as soon as I heard that on Imus, the traffic suddenly stopped. Nobody was moving. I remember looking to my left and right and everyone was on their cell phones. You could feel the panic set in. A guy in a small silver car to my right had his window down. I rolled my passenger window down and asked him if he heard the news. He said in an English accent, "Yeah, the world is going mad!"
I replied, "I wonder if something happened in DC. Do you see those huge smoke clouds?"
He said, "It's the Pentagon. A plane hit there too."
I was late because of that game, my Path train pulled into the WTC and they wouldnt let us off, so i never made it in that day. When i got back to Jersey City to get on the ferry I watched the second plane hit.
Inspector Donald G. Feser
New York City Police Department, New York
End of Watch Saturday, September 12, 2009
DONALD G. FESER
Inspector Donald Feser died from illnesses he contracted while inhaling toxic materials as he participated in the rescue and recovery efforts at the World Trade Center site following the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.
Inspector Feser had responded to the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 and commanded a unit that was instrumental in helping emergency vehicles pass and civilians escape. He was nearly killed when his vehicle was crushed as one of the towers fell. Following the attack, Inspector Feser spent many hours at the Ground Zero site as part of the rescue effort.
Inspector Feser had served with the New York City Police Department for 37 years and was the Commanding Officer of the Manhattan Traffic Task Force.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001, seventy-two officers from a total of eight local, state, and federal agencies were killed when terrorist hijackers working for the al Qaeda terrorist network, headed by Osama bin Laden, crashed four hijacked planes into the World Trade Center towers in New York City, the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, and a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
BBI was an escape that day.
Quote:
I remember waking up that morning pissed that the Giants lost to Denver the night before. The events of that day really put things in perspective.
I was late because of that game, my Path train pulled into the WTC and they wouldnt let us off, so i never made it in that day. When i got back to Jersey City to get on the ferry I watched the second plane hit.
Wow. Unreal.
Then the second one.
Can't believe it's been so long already.
Then the second one.
Can't believe it's been so long already.
Basically the same
I grew up in Monmouth county and can remember watching from across Sandy Hook bay the cloud of smoke that by late afternoon was stretched out as far as you could see over the Atlantic Ocean.
I remember crying a lot that fall. I cried before every one of my high school football games when they played the national anthem. It was a very surreal time in all our lives. The further we get from the day, the harder it is for me to believe that it happened. I still can't imagine the fate that many of those innocent people faced that morning.
Never forget.
I was helping my Wife get our boys off to school and half-watching the TV. The first tower was smoking and I was wondering what could have caused a 'small plane' to hit the tower. As I watched, the second plane flew into view and hit the tower. My immediate reaction was to yell to my wife, "we're at war!" Of course she had no idea what I was talking about. I couldn't explain to her that this could not be an accident and it was probably just the beginning..."The beginning of what?" she said.
I called the watch officer in the mountain immediately and they were being notified of the second plane. They got the order to button-up and seal the blast door and dropped me. The blast door closure was always and exercise; something we did annually for practice. This was the first time it was ever done 'for real.' There was no entry or exit. They knew nothing in the opns center and neither did I, but I knew there was something brewing. Calm, but chaotic is the best description. I told my wife that we shouldn't let the kids go to school. There was probably nothing to worry about (I really believed that), but there was bad stuff happening. I was 100% on watch to protect my family at this point. It was very clear that this was an act of war, but who were we at war with? It was the last time I was able to talk to a watch team for several days as they sorted the situation out -- it was me and my family. Within a very few hours, the mountain (NORAD) had shut-down US airspace. The morning was surreal as the Pentagon got hit and the plane in Shanksville went down and about 2pm, I saw several F-16's flying CAP over Colorado Springs. I had to stop watching television, because all of the rumors were frustrating and the unfolding tragedy was too much. The pictures of the people jumping from the towers was the final straw and I never want to see those images again.
I found out days later, two of my cousins one a police officer and the other a fire captain were at the towers when they collapsed. Both survived, but had harrowing stories of their experiences. Both lost friends and collegues. Yeah... never forget.
RIP to those lost and thankfulness to all those who risked their lives to save as many as they could.
It still is unbelievable how much a handful of fanatics can change the course of human history and cause so much pain and suffering.
Ain't that the truth. I enlisted in March 2001, and while you knew that you COULD get sent to war, I didn't think it would actually happen. They held a formation that night and our first sergeant was telling us about when he was in Desert Storm and Somalia, and I was sitting there thinking "Damn, all this is for real now"
BMDO was in the basement of the Pentagon on nearly the opposite side of the building that was hit, so no collegues were involved, thankfully. However, there used to be a series of buildings overlooking the Pentagon called "Federal Office Buildings" 1, 2, and 3 or FOB 1, 2, and 3. They are now gone, razed to make more room for Arlington Cemetary. There was a conference room in FOB 3 that BMDO used for large meetings and on that day, about 40 of my collegues were in that room when the plane flew over, across the parking lots, and into the Pentagon. They watched the plane hit the building.
My phone, such as it was in 2001, was ringing non-stop for about two hours because many of my friends and family hadn't known yet that I was no longer working in the Pentagon.
The base I worked (and still work on) in Dahlgren was evactuated and we were sent home for basically the rest of the week.
I didn't arrive to BBI until 2003, but someone had archived the entire 9/11 thread that went on for several days here and had posted it a few years in a row. That thread seems to have disappeared from the internet, replaced by a much less informative one from that day. That one has been posted often in rememberence.
The original post is heartbreaking, chilling, and a perfect reminder to "NEVER Forget".
God bless those lost, and those that went in to help.
Keep the politics out of here.
9/11 - In Their Own Words - ( New Window )
I honestly still shed a tear on this day remembering what a beautiful day it was and how ugly it got in a hurry.
God Bless those who willingly went in to rescue so many.
To Dick Morgan, RIP
I just wanted to chime in to reiterate what a few posters said about rumors that day. If there are any young folks reading this, 9/11 was before smart phones, twitter, etc. The rumors were flying around and literally the unthinkable just happened, so what wasn't to believe? It was a small part of that day but something that might not hit home for future generations. Just kind of added to the panic and doom.
Thanks fore posting, I did not go online that day at all, much less BBI... Some powerful stuff
That always hurts to read.
Man In The Red Bandana - ( New Window )
I always say the same thing, "we all lost someone that day"
What got me was seeing a billboard on our busy HWY here on my commute that posted the NY Skyline and the message "Never Forget"
Quote:
We all went to bed on the 10th believing in one thing and woke up to a world that would demand far more from us than we ever really thought about.
Ain't that the truth. I enlisted in March 2001, and while you knew that you COULD get sent to war, I didn't think it would actually happen. They held a formation that night and our first sergeant was telling us about when he was in Desert Storm and Somalia, and I was sitting there thinking "Damn, all this is for real now"
While I can't speak for anyone else in my class (we were the first class to graduate and get commissioned post-9/11), I had envisioned my obligatory time being spent training and possibly doing a MEU or two (if I was lucky). And my friends, who would go the Navy route (most of them pilots) were just itching to live out their dreams of flying jets (only a few ended up with jets) without any thought of actual combat sorties, etc.
Things didn't turn out that way...not even close.
Thanks for posting..I tried to earlier but screwed it up..
Always a must watch for me as well...as the father of a son couldn't imagine...
Welles Dad actually passed away several years ago...
I had the unfortunate pleasure of calling my parents at about 3am their time. My dad answered in a fog and the first words I could think to say were "We are under attack" (I was 21, so probably not the best choice of words). He was at attention immediately, being a Vietnam Veteran in the Air Force he was well versed in scrambles late at night. His first question was am I safe. Second question was are your brother and sister safe. I told him we are all fine, Michael had spoken to Allison and she was at work in Fairfax and he was still at home in Silver Spring. My dad said get out of Arlington you're too close to DC, and go by Allison's work and either take her with you or make sure she doesn't go back to Arlington. (She had a condo in the same building as me).
I'll never forget hopping on I66 W, sitting in gridlock trying to get to Fairfax to get to my sister. I66E was nothing but emergency vehicles, unmarked cars with lights, and assorted military FLYING up from as far down as Manassass from what I saw. And above in the clear blue sky on that brisk Tuesday morning, fighter planes were racing by every few minutes. Absolute insanity. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
Today the thread would not be allowed
I was there for the prior bombing (in the subway just before Cortland st), I was walking out of 3WTC for 9/11, and this morning I had to change my route and was on the 1 just after Rector when the train stalled. The conductor said we were being held there momentarily, we were stopped for awhile, and some jackass said they saw on their phone that it was for a suspicious package. Some tense moments later we started moving again.
The police presence is extremely heavy today, though.
I had the unfortunate pleasure of calling my parents at about 3am their time. My dad answered in a fog and the first words I could think to say were "We are under attack" (I was 21, so probably not the best choice of words). He was at attention immediately, being a Vietnam Veteran in the Air Force he was well versed in scrambles late at night. His first question was am I safe. Second question was are your brother and sister safe. I told him we are all fine, Michael had spoken to Allison and she was at work in Fairfax and he was still at home in Silver Spring. My dad said get out of Arlington you're too close to DC, and go by Allison's work and either take her with you or make sure she doesn't go back to Arlington. (She had a condo in the same building as me).
I'll never forget hopping on I66 W, sitting in gridlock trying to get to Fairfax to get to my sister. I66E was nothing but emergency vehicles, unmarked cars with lights, and assorted military FLYING up from as far down as Manassass from what I saw. And above in the clear blue sky on that brisk Tuesday morning, fighter planes were racing by every few minutes. Absolute insanity. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
My God, that blue sky. Can't forget it. Feels like we havent had one like that since.
They will always be remembered.
Meanwhile his sister in tower 2 had evacuated down to a lower floor with her whole office. They then gave the all clear to go back up to work. She decided to get a coffee before heading back up. A few minutes later the 2nd plane hit and everyone in her office was killed. She was able to safely evacuate the building after that.
Her brother and the chaplain were killed when tower 1 fell.
Even after all this time I fall to pieces every time I think about it.
The following piece by legendary columnist Jimmy Breslin appeared in the Jewish World Review in October 2001. It carried the headline “Hero Husband Found at Last.”
It was about Angela Danz, who was summoned to the base of the fallen towers, amid the recovery efforts, to witness the discovery of the remains of her husband, our cousin, Vincent Danz. Vin had been among the first on the scene that crisp September Tuesday morning in 2001.
+++
The line of men in red, white or blue hard hats went up the path through the wreckage of the old World Trade Center to the smoke at the top of the gray hill. It was one of four clouds of smoke coming from deep in the guts of the ground. This smoke rose to the top of a 40-story financial building.
There were about 200 men on the hill in white, blue or red hard hats and they were passing down five-gallon buckets. At the bottom of the hill, two men stood with a four-foot by three-foot screen and the buckets were emptied onto the screen and they shook the screen as if they were trying to find coins at the beach. They were looking for any trace, any identification of the dead in the gray wreckage. Often they would shake the screen and get a hand, a piece of a heel.
At 1:30 yesterday afternoon they were digging in the smoke at the top, and somebody came up with a credit card for Officer Vincent Danz. He was in the wreckage right under them, they all agreed. The hands reached into the gray rubble.
By 3 o'clock a truck from emergency service unit three in the Bronx pulled into the lot and parked at the foot of the hill. If it was Danz's body, it was theirs to carry. He had been part of a high-rise rescue team.
"That's the widow," a sergeant, Ricky Kemmler, said.
A few steps away, a light-haired young woman who wore a short tan coat and a white hard hat stood with her hand being held by Joseph Dunne, who is the deputy police commissioner.
"She lives on the Island. They called her," somebody said.
"She already had a memorial service for him. I was there," Andrew McGinnis, a sergeant, said.
"In Farmingdale," another one said. "It was the first one for an officer."
"I think she's from Ireland. She had the guts to get up and speak at the memorial. She has three kids. I know she said something funny about meeting him in a bar."
"I met my two wives in bars," I said.
The widow, Angela Danz, was silent and there was no talking around her. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she was not close to weeping. This is the toughest breed of them, a young woman who now raises three kids, with the oldest 8, while living in loneliness.
She stood in the mud and before her was the coliseum where her husband fought his last fight for her. The wreckage strewn everywhere looked exactly like it was, buildings dropped from the sky. A few high thick stubborn metal teeth of the south tower were still rooted in the gray mud.
The remains of a wall of the north tower leaned backward, as if resting against a fence.
Off to the right, yellow smoke came up in billows. Water from a hose attached to a hydrant that somehow had lasted was played with great force at the yellow smoke. It did not stop.
A large machine, a grappler, dug into the earth around the yellow smoke. As the grappler came up with its jaws clamped on pieces of steel and mud, the yellow smoke subsided for a few moments. Then it burst angrily out of the spot.
A dozen cranes waved angrily high in the smoke. Everywhere in the mud, generators barked and dozens of back hoes and grapplers chewed on the disaster.
She watched with strength stronger than the buildings that killed her husband. She was out of the old coal mine disasters, with women waiting at the top of the elevator for news of their husbands in a fire below.
Except this time, Angela Danz knew that her husband was dead. She had already eulogized him in a church. Right now, the least they could do was get her the body.
On the hill in front of her, twin lines of men went up the hill, that is several stories high. Then at the top it hooked to the right. The head of the line was lost in the smoke.
Now a police commander in white uniform shirt climbed to the turn in the line, kept going and disappeared into the smoke.
"Esposito," somebody said. He is Joseph Esposito, the chief of the department.
"I never saw a guy that big get down and work with the men," one of the cops said.
Up on the hill, the white, red or blue hard hats bobbed and at the top they formed a little circle around something and then burst like a soap bubble. Some hard hats went to one line and the rest to the other. Now they took off their hard hats and saluted.
"It looks like they got him," the sergeant, Kemmler, said.
The cranes and ground machinery stopped. The generators were turned off.
"It looks like we had a good day," another enthused. They dig all day, day after day, and do not find many bodies.
"If that's what you call it," somebody said.
Dunne and the widow walked a few steps to the emergency service truck parked at the bottom of the hill.
At the top; Esposito's white shirt appeared. He was in front of a gurney that was cloaked with an American flag.
Somebody called, "They want police officers up on the line."
McGinnis and Kemmler walked up the hill and got on a line.
Now Esposito walked first down the slope. Walked slowly, for they could not slip with the gurney. Men in the lines on either side saluted.
At the bottom of the slope, Esposito had the pallbearers step at an even slower funeral pace.
Dunne and the widow went to the back of the truck.
Esposito led the men with the gurney to the back of the truck.
Now there was no motion or sound for several seconds. They prayed over the body.
Then Dunne and Angela Danz came from the back of the truck and walked away.
The hard hats filed along the truck and formed an honor guard for many yards from the front of the truck. A patrol car moved in front.
All saluted. The patrol car roof light went on and the big emergency truck followed through the mud. It went past the great hole that looked down on what had been a subway station. Then they went out onto the streets and headed for the morgue on First Avenue with the body the widow and his emergency outfit had wanted so much.
Just awful.
To me, it's a day to appreciate first responders. The guys who headed up the stairs. All those who died and suffered for no good reason.
But 'Never Forget'? Hell, I do my best to forget. What sadist wants to remember the fear and uncertainty of that day? It's like people savor PTSD or something.
Never Forgive. Yeah, that's the spirit. Never Forget to Hate. And that's what bugs me about this day each year - that undertone. They can all shove it up their ass.
I have described this multiple times here on BBI, but feel it is the moment that really hit home for me. At that time I lived in Brooklyn off the N line. The N would go above ground and run across the Manhattan Bridge when it would cross the East River. Every day, I could look out the subway window and see those two amazing big buildings. I just loved it. But on that day on my way home, they were gone. Replaced by a giant pillar of smoke. No one said a word. Other than the sound of the train, it was totally silent. Easily one of the saddest moments of my life to see nothing where once there was greatness.
Remember the whole day vividly and don’t imagine I’ll ever forget it. Crazy how it’s been 18 years, the people in the photos are really starting to feel dated. The clothing, etc. That’s a strange feeling, it seems like it was just yesterday but it’s been a long time. Was 16 when the attacks happened, 34 now.
I recognize it was an American story and event and I don’t mean to downplay that, I know people around the country and world were affected. For me it’s always been a very New York-centric event though. I had grown up in NJ with the city right there but I never really felt a strong connection to the New York area until that happened. Had you asked me on 9/10/01 I doubt very much I would have expressed any strong connection with the area or any desire to stay long term, but aside from college I’ve never really left and can’t really imagine it. There’s no place like New York. It has a lot of problems but it’s a special place, lived around it my whole life and in the city for about a decade now and I’m glad it’s home.
I have described this multiple times here on BBI, but feel it is the moment that really hit home for me. At that time I lived in Brooklyn off the N line. The N would go above ground and run across the Manhattan Bridge when it would cross the East River. Every day, I could look out the subway window and see those two amazing big buildings. I just loved it. But on that day on my way home, they were gone. Replaced by a giant pillar of smoke. No one said a word. Other than the sound of the train, it was totally silent. Easily one of the saddest moments of my life to see nothing where once there was greatness.
Mad...could you please email me? I've lost your email address. rnargi@hotmail.com
As a few have mentioned, the sky that day was beautiful. The visibility seemed like forever. And you could feel Fall around the corner.
As we crawled around a right bend, I remember seeing huge gray smoke clouds climbing into the sky from the south. They kept growing bigger and bigger with every second. My instinct was there was a pretty big fire somewhere in DC.
Back on Imus, they were reporting a second plane had hit the other tower. And it was clear to them this was a terrorist attack.
Almost as soon as I heard that on Imus, the traffic suddenly stopped. Nobody was moving. I remember looking to my left and right and everyone was on their cell phones. You could feel the panic set in. A guy in a small silver car to my right had his window down. I rolled my passenger window down and asked him if he heard the news. He said in an English accent, "Yeah, the world is going mad!"
I replied, "I wonder if something happened in DC. Do you see those huge smoke clouds?"
He said, "It's the Pentagon. A plane hit there too."