September 11, 2001

My wife woke me up the morning of 9/11. She had the T.V. on and told me a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. I watched things unfold, seeing they still weren’t able to get water on the fire and concerned about guys getting seriously injured or possibly killed. The other tower got hit as I watched. It got hit so low that I kind of knew that particular tower was going to come down. When it did, I cried like a baby. I had responded to those buildings probably a thousand times in my twenty year career, including the bombing in ‘93. I threw some old turnout gear in my car and drove to the city the next day to assist in the search. On the way, I remembered announcing over a microphone the previous year, to the new probies at a party on the Floating Hospital in the East River, reminding them of the seriousness of this job and that the terrorists are coming back, that they want to take those buildings down and they are going to try again. Of course, the probies all laughed, thinking I was a nut case. 

The cops were preventing people from going over the Brooklyn Bridge, but since I had an F.D.N.Y. work shirt on and my Fire Department I. D. card, they let me go over the bridge into lower Manhattan. It looked like a ghost town. There was no electricity, so all the traffic lights were out and a thick, gray, mud-like substance blanketed all of downtown. I went to my firehouse and hugged whoever was around. I knew fourteen guys from the house were missing and were most likely dead, finding this information out on the phone the night before, when I finally got through to the firehouse. While walking over to Ground Zero, I’d see soldiers carrying weapons and patrolling the streets. As I got to Broadway I saw volunteer firemen in yellow bunker gear hooking up to our hydrants. It seemed so out of place. It was bizarre. With all the manpower and equipment in New York City, we were being helped by volunteer departments from New Jersey. I was moved by this. I walked down Liberty street and saw Captain Mallory of Ladder 10, deep in thought, sweeping the sidewalk in front of quarters as if he was “tidying up a bit”. Ten feet away from him was the beginning of the enormous pile of debris that only the day before was Two World Trade Center. There were gaping holes in the surrounding buildings on Liberty and Church streets. There were women passing out bottles of water, socks and paper face masks to help filter the nasty air particles that wreaked havoc on everyone’s throat. There were assembly lines of guys on the pile filling up pails with debris and passing them along, trying to be respectful. The debris would go on a barge to Staten Island and be carefully sifted through. 

After 9/11 there were so many gestures of kindness from people trying to help boost the morale of the firefighters. School children sent drawings that were hung all over the walls of the firehouses. People from all over the country sent gift baskets. Celebrities and big name athletes came to visit and spend some time with us. A kid flew in from California to help make bunks and wash sheets and do other chores. I gave him a couple of my old work shirts and he was thrilled. A woman from an apartment down the street came to bake pies and cakes. 

These were the unsung heroes and when I see people like this I am reminded that there is a power much greater than ourselves that will triumph over whatever evils exist in this world.