Remembering That Awful Day

This was something I wrote back in September of 2002 and thought it was fitting to bring it forward for the 24th anniversary of That Awful Day.

Like many people on the East Coast, I was at work that day. I was in the engineering lab trying to finish the paperwork on a project that was soon going in to production. It was shortly before 9 AM when one of my coworkers came through the lab, telling us an aircraft had crashed in to one of the World Trade Center towers. I turned on the radio at my desk and tuned to the local NPR stations. As I listened to the reports, one reporter interrupted to inform us that a second aircraft had crashed in to the second tower. At that point all of us in the lab knew we were under attack.

And then my pager went off.

One thing I have to explain is that I have been involved with emergency services since I was a teenager. These days I volunteer as a communications reservist for the state Office of Emergency Management and am a captain in the Civil Air Patrol.

Pages flew fast a furious, from both OEM and CAP. It looked like I would busy from that day on. Staying at work from that point on became impossible. I headed home to change and gather a few changes of clothing and stuff them into my flight gear bag. From then on it was hurry up and wait.

I didn’t stray far from the telephone or the TV. I watched as first one tower, then the other, collapsed. I remember thinking They should be rolling the credits any time now. But the credits never came. This wasn’t a movie. It was real.

In the mean time, reports about an aircraft crashing in to the Pentagon came in, setting off another surge in pages from OEM and CAP. Reports from the TV also stated that the FAA was ordering all non-military aircraft grounded. That would complicate things for CAP, but as it is part of the U.S. Air Force, it wouldn’t complicate things much.

I remember turning on my scanner and listening to the local aircraft frequencies. Boston Center was directing aircraft to land at the nearest airport, regardless of what their destination was supposed to be. I also listened in on the HF frequencies that are used for contacting and controlling transatlantic flights. All aircraft westbound were told they could not enter U.S. airspace. Some aircraft decided to turn around and head back to Europe. Others continued west and landed in Canada. In less than three hours the skies above America were empty. The lack of contrails in the upper atmosphere or the sound of aircraft passing overhead was missing. It was eerie, surreal.

The rest of the day was a blur. So many things were happening. So many things were not happening. I don’t know how many times I watched the towers being hit and the subsequent collapse. No matter where I happened to be, I didn’t stray far from a radio or TV. Somehow it still didn’t seem real to me. It wasn’t until later that evening while watching the evening news that reality came crashing in.

There was a series reports about reactions around the world to the attacks in New York, Washington D.C., and Pennsylvania. It was the report from London that brought it home to me. I don’t remember what the correspondent said, but the images that played during the report caught my eye.

It was the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, something I’ve seen many times when I’ve been in London. Normally, after the routine changing of the watch and the playing of God Save the Queen, the marching band plays something martial and stirring as they march off the yard of the palace. But this time they did something unprecedented.

As they approached the gates of Buckingham Palace, they stopped. They stood motionless for a moment, then raised their instruments……….

….and played the Star Spangled Banner. It was then that the tears began to fill my eyes, the reality of what had happened crashing over me like a tidal wave. Hearing our national anthem played in a foreign country, seeing the anguish and tears on the faces of the people watching, knowing that many of them were American and just as importantly knowing that many were not, made it real for me. As un-macho as it is for me to admit this, I bawled my eyes out for the next hour. Even thinking about it today makes me choke up.

But watching that display of solidarity and condolences in England brought to mind a line from a movie I’ve always liked, Pulp Fiction, spoken by Samuel L. Jackson:

”Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is He who in the name of Charity and Good Will shepherds the weak through the Valley of Darkness, for He is truly His brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon the with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the LORD when I lay My vengeance upon thee!”