Two stories:
My husband's cousin Mike lost his dad about twenty years ago. He was a young boy, but forced into the role of Man of the Family. Mike had a job at Cantor/Fitzgerald and worked up on one of the top floors of the tower. The Friday before, he was laid off along with other people. He was bummed out. It was a great job and he loved it. That weekend was a tough one for him. But when he woke up on the next Tuesday morning, it was a nightmare. His best friend, who was not laid off, called him up. He said that everyone at work had come to the realization that they were going to die and everyone was busy calling family and friends to say their last good-byes. Mike wouldn't go into the details of the conversation. I'm sure it's one he wished he never had.
He feels his father up in Heaven had somehow "gotten" him laid off. If it weren't for that, he would have been up there on the top floor making calls to his friends and family.
Mike's girlfriend worked at 7 World Trade Center. She had just placed her hand on the handle of door to pull the door open and enter the building when she saw a plane race over her head and crash into one of the towers right next to her. She said that everyone stood still for a moment and was absolutely silent and then all hell broke loose. Everyone was literally running in circles not knowing where to go.
My husband is a retired New York City Police Officer. He retired a little before 9/11. That morning me and Eddie were at the gym and on the way home we heard that a plane had crashed into one of the towers. We were thinking that it was some stupid pilot in a Cessna, because things like that had happened in the past. When we got home and turned on the news we couldn't believe our eyes.
My husband immediately took out some card that he had in his wallet which the police department gives out telling police officers what to do in an emergency and he called whatever number was listed on the card. Between the time he placed the call and the time he left, he was directed here, then there, then somewhere else. By the time he left, I didn't even know where he was going to. He just ran out the door and told me he would call me on the cell when he figured it out.
He wound up getting stuck in Staten Island because they had closed the bridges. He finally got home late that night.
Unfortunately, my boss did not close the school I work for. I don't think anyone really knew what was going on. We were all in shock and we were still trying to decipher the information that they were giving us on the news. While driving to work, I was doing about 80 or 90 and there were so many cars flying past me doing at least over 100, driving towards the city. I'm sure they were just like my husband, retired or off-duty police officers or fire fighters.
After staying at work for about an hour, my students and I were talking and we came to the realization that this was a terrorist attack. My God, we're only 40 miles from the City.....What if they use a nuclear device next? How do we survive a nuclear attack being so close to the city? What are we going to do?!
So everyone went home.
When we got home, I ran to the cash machine and took out all the cash we had. Then I went to the grocery store and bought gallons and gallons of water and lots of things that wouldn't go bad should there be another attack and we lost power for a certain amount of time...Batteries....Candles....etc. I was preparing. It was very scary.
Then I picked the kids up from school, and so was every other parent.
We got home and I explained to the kids what was going on. I didn't pussyfoot around it because there is no pussyfooting around a terrorist attack.
We stayed glued to the TV and the telephone. I heard so many stories that afternoon from friends and family about who was missing - Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends.....It was a very surreal day.
My husband then went into the city again on Thursday. By then the NYPD had established a system directing all off-duty and retirees on where to go to help out. He wound up going down into the pit. He was told to go down into the pit with a buddy, not to go down alone. He described the pit as a war zone. He found fingers, feet, arms, legs, personal items, clothing, etc. but no one was alive.
They were given these buckets and there was like a line of people and Eddie would fill the buckets with stuff, including the body parts, and pass the buckets along up and out of the pit.
While in the pit he said that there was this huge guy that had accidentally slipped down one of the steel girders that was sticking out of the rubble. He tried to grab onto something while sliding down to the bottom of the pit so he wouldn't get injured by the sharp debris at the bottom and he dislocated his arm. Eddie said it would take him or someone else about twenty minutes to make their way in or out of the pit. You put your hand and foot on whatever would support you and just make your way up.
Then him and his buddy heard someone talking underneath them. They told everyone to be quiet and they heard the voice again, so they kept digging and digging through stuff trying to get to the man. They were told if anyone came across a survivor to tell someone in charge, so he crawled up to the top of the pit and let a captain know what was going on.
It just so happened that a Daily News photographer took a picture of that moment. I went on-line and bought an 11x13 photo and had it framed. It's hanging next to all of my husband's other awards from the police department. You can see Ed standing with a captain and Ed is pointing down into the pit while another worker is standing there holding up one finger, indicating one survivor.
Anyway, the survivor turned out to be a firefighter who traversed down into the pit without a buddy. He slipped under the debris and was trapped. I think the guy was stuck down there for over a day.
The most profound experience my husband had:
There were buildings all around the towers that were blown to pieces but still standing. There were engineers all over the area monitoring the buildings to make sure they didn't come down on all the rescuers below. Whenever there was any sort of movement in the buildings or the engineers were fearful of a collapse, an alarm would sound and everyone would have to clear the whole area.
But if you were down in the pit, there was no escape. You just hunkered down and prayed that that building was not going to fall on you and kill you.
When my husband came home early the next morning (he was there for a day and a half with no sleep) and we laid down in bed to talk about what was happening he told me about the alarms.
He said to me, Corryn, seven times they sounded that alarm, and seven times I thought I was going to die.
I'll never forget that.
He also told me about this awesome drink that kept him awake all day and all night called Red Bull.
He said while walking to and from the pit on the way there and on the way home there were stands everywhere Giving Away things like Timberland workboots, jeans, t-shirts, Carhart stuff, etc. He came home wearing his 103rd Precinct T-shirt and his cheap Wal-mart work boots. I scolded him, why didn't you pick up some free stuff? I'm going to have to throw all this stuff out anyway! He said that he felt like he was walking through a nightmare and didn't even realize until he was talking with me then about the free stuff.
When he came home, he was covered from head to toe in dust. I am sorry if this is cruel, but I called it Dead People Dust and I refused to let him stay in the house covered in something like that. It just didn't seem right. People were missing their Loved Ones and, this is very sad to say, but he was wearing them. I couldn't handle that. I really couldn't. I took a picture of him with our girls and I made him take off his clothes outside and then I put them in a plastic bag and threw them out. I didn't know what else to do with them.
The next day Eddie's old partner was getting married. It was a wedding full of cops. Throughout the whole ceremony and reception there was not a dry eye. The beer and liquor were flowing and so were their tears. These grown men were sharing their personal accounts, all the while being supported by their brother officer who knew exactly how they were feeling. Everyone felt sorry for the bride. Her wedding was overshadowed by a horrible tragedy and people were feeling guilty about living it up and having a good time at what should have been a joyous occasion. That was a wedding I'll never forget.
My BF lives in Staten Island. Of course, her husband is cop too and they've got their own stories as well. Anyway, I remember speaking with her days, weeks, months after the attack. Up here in NY it was an extremely mild fall and early winter. I thought at the time that it was God's way of making it easy on the rescue workers.
Anyway, Eileen's kids were sick for months. And it wasn't just Eileen's kids. She would go into the school to drop off her kids in the morning and most kids were absent. She said there were times when only 4 or 5 kids would show up for school. Everyone on Staten Island was sick. I said, Ei, when there's sickness in my house, I just open the windows to get fresh air to circulate. She said, Corryn, my windows were open, but keeping the windows open is what's making us all sick. Like I said, she lives on Staten Island and at the time they were sending all the debris from the World Trade Center to a special facility at a landfill on Staten Island. Everyone she talked to (neighbors, friends, teachers, etc.) felt that something was circulating in the air all around the city that was making everyone sick, respiratory infections. It wasn't until that next spring that everyone was feeling a little better.
Another one; Ed's uncle is a little off-balance; he was a prisoner of war during WWII and hasn't been the same since. Well, that Tuesday morning he was to go for his regular hair cut. He lives in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. He takes the subway over to another section of Brooklyn for his haircut, but the subway wasn't running, so he decided to walk. Later that afternoon, Ed's mom called his uncle and she was asking him what his neighborhood was like with all the goings-on. He didn't know what she was talking about. She was trying to describe what was happening but he wouldn't believe it. She told him to turn on the news, but (like I said a little off-balance) he said, I don't turn on the TV until 6:00 for the news. He did tell her that he tried to get his hair cut, but the stupid subways were broken so he had to walk and everyone was going crazy in the streets and there was a lot of smoke around and when he finally got to the barber shop it was closed, and that he was very annoyed. He said he didn't know what was happening. Ed's mom kept trying to tell her brother what was happening but he didn't want to hear it.
The guy just didn't want to face the truth. I guess his experience during the war put him in a permanent state of denial.
There are so many other stories and I can go on and on. Those are just a few that come to my mind right now.
This morning I felt it was important to have a discussion during class about this day six years ago. Every one of my students had their own story. You can't be a New Yorker and not know someone personally that had been killed.