Provided by www.wherewereyou.org

"I was at work when a bulletin came over my computer from MSNBC that a plane had crashed into the WTC. I thought it was probably a small plane and I thought it was just awful. A little later another bulletin came on about the second plane, and then the Pentagon. By then everyone was running around trying to find out just what was happening. I thought, 'Oh my God, someone is trying to wipe us out!' It was an awful, frightening feeling and and I felt total disbelief that this was happening in our country. When what had happened finally sank in I felt sick and I couldn't figure out what I should do - feeling that I should be doing something. My heart ached for all of us, but especially for the victims and their families and friends."
Carol, 51, Virgina

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"I was in a small, 20 passenger puddle-jumper jet flying from Tulare, California to Los Angeles. We were the last flight permitted to land at LAX."
Winn, 22, Tennessee

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"I am a teacher in Massachusetts. A co-worker came in and told me the news. I couldn't believe it. Another teacher had his TV on and told me the World Trade Center was gone. I felt chills throughout my body. I also had to explain things to my eighth grade special education class. Not an easy task. I also had to tell my husband who works in the airline business. It all seems like a bad dream."
Beth, 38, Massachusetts

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"My dad was supposed to have been at the Pentagon, but had happened to have rescheduled his meeting. Praise God. I was at a friend's house, and I was terrified for awhile. His phone call sure made me feel better."
Aaron, 19, Ohio

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"I overslept and didn't go into Manhattan as I originally planned. My friend called frantically in the morning and left a message that something was happening in the World Trade Center. I scrambled out of bed and rushed to turn on the television and saw both towers crumbling in the aftermath of the attack. My heart was in my throat because the person I loved was on the 42nd floor. I collapsed crying on the floor thinking he could never survive that, but I called him soon afterwards and he was safe. He was late to work that day."
Anonymous, 23, New York

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"I was at school at the Corcoran, one block from the White House, when we were evacuated under word of the Secret Service. We were told that there was a plane on its way to the White House and we should all go home. Too bad my home is an appartment highrise in Downtown DC, close to the White House. Later that night I went to the Pentagon to see it for myself. It still doesn't seem real.
Nicole, 21, District of Columbia

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"I was in my English class, doing a timeline of my life. When we heard of the attacks, the TV was turned on. Some people were treating it lightly, but others, including me, were shocked. I will never forget my teacher, standing there with her face in her hands, shaking her head with disbelief, and suddenly I was more scared than I had been in a long time."
Anastasia, 14, Ohio

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I was home at the time from work due to a foot injury. When my friend called me at 9:02 am and told me to turn the TV on, what came on the screen took me almost 5 minutes to comprehend. I could not believe this was happening. All the years I have and been delivering to the Center and around Manhattan. I felt guilty to say I was lucky when we now know how many have perished. When you see it on TV and then happen to pass the gravesite, words cannot explain the pain."
Paul, 33, New York

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"It was September 11, 2001. I was at school. I went outside after we heard the news of a plane hitting the tower, so I went outside and looked. My teacher told me that it was a commuter plane, but I said no, no commuter plane can leave such a big hole in the building. So I was out there, then in the corner of my eye a United Airlines Boeing 767 was flying, so I said, 'Why's that plane going so fast?' I heard the engine thrust increase, so I said, 'Oh, no!' Then it crashed and I saw a big fireball."
Brian, 13, New Jersey

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"I was home sleeping when the first plane hit. A good friend who lives in Maine called and told us to open our bedroom blinds and look. We live in Brooklyn, NY and are about 11 miles from the WTC. We used to see the Towers from our apartment windows. That day we heard and saw them fall. And watched the smoke and debris reach as far as we live, and past."
Mara, 54, New York

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"I was in my school in Brooklyn, that had a clear view of the Twin Towers on a good day. Since that Tuesday was a beautiful day, you could see them clearly. But all of a sudden, you couldn't see them anymore and all you saw was gray-black smoke. Then papers started flying outside school window (about 5-6 miles from the Twin Towers if you count straight). One student found a half of a burnt cell phone. Some people saw the Twin Towers collapse, before the school let us go home. The entire day if you looked towards Manhattan, the entire sky was black instead of blue."
VB, 17, New York

Firsthand accounts, provided by www.coping.org

Firefighter's Account From the World Trade Center

The south tower of the World Trade Center has just collapsed. I am helping my friends at Ladder Company 16, and the firefighters have commandeered a crowded 67th Street crosstown bus. We go without stopping from Lexington Avenue to the staging center on Amsterdam. We don't talk much. Not one of the passengers complains.

At Amsterdam we board another bus. The quiet is broken by a lieutenant: "We'll see things today we shouldn't have to see, but listen up, we'll do it together. We'll be together, and we'll all come back together." He opens a box of dust masks and gives two to each of us.

We walk down West Street and report to the chief in command. He stands ankle-deep in mud. His predecessor chief earlier in the day is already missing, along with the command center itself, which is somewhere beneath mountains of cracked concrete and bent steel caused by the second collapse, of the north tower.

Now several hundred firefighters are milling about. There is not much for us to do except pull hose from one place to another as a pumper and ladder truck are repositioned. It is quiet: no sirens, no helicopters. Just the sound of two hoses watering a hotel on West Street - the six stories that remain. The low crackle of department radios fades into air. The danger now is the burning 47-story building before us. The command chief has taken the firefighters out.

I leave the hoses and trucks and walk through the World Financial Center. There has been a complete evacuation; I move through the hallways alone. It seems the building has been abandoned for decades, as there are inches of dust on the floors. The large and beautiful atrium with its palm trees is in ruins.

Outside, because of the pervasive gray dusting, I cannot read the street signs as I make my way back. There is a lone fire company down a narrow street wetting down a smoldering pile. The mountains of debris in every direction are 50 and 60 feet high, and it is only now that I realize the silence I notice is the silence of thousands of people buried around me.

On the West Street side the chiefs begin to push us back toward the Hudson. Entire companies are unaccounted for. The department's elite rescue squads are not heard from. Just last week I talked with a group of Rescue 1 firefighters about the difficult requirements for joining these companies. I remember thinking then that these were truly unusual men, smart and thoughtful.

I know the captain of Rescue 1, Terry Hatten. He is universally loved and respected on the job. I think about Terry, and about Brian Hickey, the captain of Rescue 4, who just last month survived the blast of the Astoria fire that killed three firefighters, including two of his men. He was working today.

I am pulling a heavy six-inch hose through the muck when I see Mike Carter, the vice-president of the firefighters union, on the hose just before me. He's a good friend, and we barely say hello to each other. I see Kevin Gallagher, the union president, who is looking for his missing firefighter son. Someone calls to me. It is Jimmy Boyle, the retired president of the union. "I can't find Michael," he says. Michael Boyle was with Engine 33, and the whole company is missing. I can't say anything to Jimmy, but just throw my arms around him. The last thing I see is Kevin Gallagher kissing a firefighter - his son.

- This article by Dennis Smith appeared in the New York Times September 14, 2001

The Price We Pay: A Survivor's Story
By Adam Mayblum

My name is Adam Mayblum. I am alive today. I am committing this to "paper" so I never forget. SO WE NEVER FORGET. I am sure that this is one of thousands of stories that will emerge over the next several days and weeks. I arrived as usual a little before 8am. My office was on the 87th floor of 1 World Trade Center, AKA: Tower 1, AKA: the North Tower. Most of my associates were in by 8:30m. We were standing around, joking around, eating breakfast, checking emails, and getting set for the day when the first plane hit just a few stories above us. I must stress that we did not know that it was a plane. The building lurched violently and shook as if it were an earthquake. People screamed. I watched out my window as the building seemed to move 10 to 20 feet in each direction. It rumbled and shook long enough for me to get my wits about myself and grab a co-worker and seek shelter under a doorway. Light fixtures and parts of the ceiling collapsed. The kitchen was destroyed. We were certain that it was a bomb. We looked out the windows. Reams of paper were flying everywhere, like a ticker tape parade. I looked down at the street. I could see people in Battery Park City looking up. Smoke started billowing in through the
holes in the ceiling.

I believe that there were 13 of us. We did not panic. I can only assume that we thought that the worst was over. The building was standing and we were shaken but alive. We checked the halls. The smoke was thick and white and did not smell like I imagined smoke should smell. Not like your BBQ or your fireplace or even a bonfire.

The phones were working. My wife had taken our 9 month old for his check up. I called my nanny at home and told her to page my wife, tell her that a bomb went off, I was ok, and on my way out. I grabbed my laptop. Took off my tee shirt and ripped it into 3 pieces. Soaked it in water. Gave 2 pieces to my friends. Tied my piece around my face to act as an air filter. And we all started moving to the staircase. One of my dearest friends said that he was staying until the police or firemen came to get him. In the halls there were tiny fires and sparks. The ceiling had collapsed in the men's bathroom. It was gone along with anyone who may have been in there. We did not go in to look. We missed the staircase on the first run and had to double back.

Once in the staircase we picked up fire extinguishers just incase. On the 85th floor a brave associate of mine and I headed back up to our office to drag out my partner who stayed behind. There was no air, just white smoke. We made the rounds through the office calling his name. No response. He must have succumbed to the smoke.

We left defeated in our efforts and made our way back to the stairwell. We proceeded to the 78th floor where we had to change over to a different stairwell. 78 is the main junction to switch to the upper floors. I expected to see more people. There were some 50 to 60 more. Not enough. Wires and fires all over the place. Smoke too. A brave man was fighting a fire with the emergency hose. I stopped with two friends to make sure that everyone from our office was accounted for. We ushered them and confused people into the stairwell. In retrospect, I recall seeing Harry, my head trader, doing the same several yards behind me. I am only 35. I have known him for over 14 years. I headed into the stairwell with 2 friends. We were moving down very orderly in Stair Case A. very slowly. No panic. At least not overt panic. My legs could not stop shaking. My heart was pounding. Some nervous jokes and laughter. I made a crack about ruining a brand new pair of Merrells. Even still, they were right, my feet felt great. We all laughed.

We checked our cell phones. Surprisingly, there was a very good signal, but the Sprint network was jammed. I heard that the Blackberry 2 way email devices worked perfectly. On the phones, 1 out of 20 dial attempts got through. I knew I could not reach my wife so I called my parents. I told them what happened and that we were all okay and on the way down. Soon, my sister in law reached me. I told her we were fine and moving down. I believe that was about the 65th floor. We were bored and nervous. I called my friend Angel in San Francisco. I knew he would be watching. He was amazed I was on the phone. He told me to get out that there was another plane on its way. I did not know what he was talking about. By now the second plane had struck Tower 2.

We were so deep into the middle of our building that we did not hear or feel anything. We had no idea what was really going on. We kept making way for wounded to go down ahead of us. Not many of them, just a few. No one seemed seriously wounded. Just some cuts and scrapes. Everyone cooperated. Everyone was a hero yesterday. No questions asked. I had co-workers in another office on the 77th floor. I tried dozens of times to get them on their cell phones or office lines. It was futile. Later I found that they were alive. One of the many miracles on a day of tragedy.

On the 53rd floor we came across a very heavyset man sitting on the stairs. I asked if he needed help or was he just resting. He needed help. I knew I would have trouble carrying him because I have a very bad back. But my friend and I offered anyway. We told him he could lean on us. He hesitated, I don't know why. I said do you want to come or do you want us to send help for you. He chose for help. I told him he was on the 53rd floor in Stairwell A and that's what I would tell the rescue workers. He said okay and we left. On the 44th floor my phone rang again. It was my parents. They were hysterical. I said relax, I'm fine. My father said get out, there is third plane coming. I still did not understand. I was kind of angry. What did my parents think? Like I needed some other reason to get going? I couldn't move the thousand people in front of me any faster. I know they love me, but no one inside understood what the situation really was. My parents did. Starting around this floor the firemen, policemen, WTC K-9 units without the dogs, anyone with a badge, started coming up as we were heading down. I stopped a lot of them and told them about the man on 53 and my friend on 87. I later felt terrible about this. They headed up to find those people and met death instead. On the 33rd floor I spoke with a man who somehow knew most of the details. He said 2 small planes hit the building. Now we all started talking about which terrorist group it was. Was it an internal organization or an external one? The overwhelming but uninformed opinion was Islamic Fanatics. Regardless, we now knew that it was not a bomb and there were potentially more planes coming. We understood.

On the 3rd floor the lights went out and we heard & felt this rumbling coming towards us from above. I thought the staircase was collapsing upon itself. It was 10 am now and that was Tower 2 collapsing next door. We did not know that. Someone had a flashlight. We passed it forward and left the stairwell and headed down a dark and cramped corridor to an exit. We could not see at all. I recommended that everyone place a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them and call out if they hit an obstacle so others would know to avoid it. They did. It worked perfectly. We reached another stairwell and saw a female officer emerge soaking wet and covered in soot. She said we could not go that way it was blocked. Go up to 4 and use the other exit. Just as we started up she said it was ok to go down instead. There was water everywhere. I called out for hands on shoulders again and she said that was a great idea. She stayed behind instructing people to do that. I do not know what happened to her. We emerged into an enormous room. It was light but filled with smoke. I commented to a friend that it must be under construction. Then we realized where we were. It was the second floor. The one that overlooks the lobby. We were ushered out into the courtyard, the one where the fountain used to be. My first thought was of a TV movie I saw once about nuclear winter and fallout. I could not understand where all of the debris came from. There was at least five inches of this gray pasty dusty drywall soot on the ground as well as a thickness of it in the air. Twisted steel and wires. I heard there were bodies and body parts as well, but I did not look. It was bad enough. We hid under the remaining overhangs and moved out to the street. We were told to keep walking towards Houston Street. The odd thing is that there were very few rescue workers around. Less than five. They all must have been trapped under the debris when Tower 2 fell. We did not know that and could not understand where all of that debris came from.

It was just my friend Kern and I now. We were hugging but sad. We felt certain that most of our friends ahead of us died and we knew no one behind us. We came upon a post office several blocks away. We stopped and looked up. Our building, exactly where our office is (was), was engulfed in flame and smoke. A postal worker said that Tower 2 had fallen down. I looked again and sure enough it was gone. My heart was racing. We kept trying to call our families. I could not get in touch with my wife. Finally I got through to my parents. Relived is not the word to explain their feelings. They got through to my wife, thank G-d and let her know I was alive.

We sat down. A girl on a bike offered us some water. Just as she took the cap off her bottle we heard a rumble. We looked up and our building, Tower 1 collapsed. I did not note the time but I am told it was 10:30am. We had been out less than 15 minutes. We were mourning our lost friends, particularly the one who stayed in the office as we were now sure that he had perished. We started walking towards Union Square. I was going to Beth Israel Medical Center to be looked at. We stopped to hear the President speaking on the radio. My phone rang. It was my wife. I think I fell to my knees crying when I heard her voice. Then she told me the most incredible thing. My partner who had stayed behind called her. He was alive and well. I guess we just lost him in the commotion. We started jumping and hugging and shouting. I told my wife that my brother had arranged for a hotel in midtown. He can be very resourceful in that way. I told her I would call her from there. My brother and I managed to get a gypsy cab to take us home to Westchester instead. I cried on my son and held my wife until I fell asleep.

As it turns out my partner, the one who I thought had stayed behind was behind us with Harry Ramos, our head trader. This is now second hand information. They came upon Victor, the heavyset man on the 53rd floor. They helped him. He could barely move. My partner bravely/stupidly tested the elevator on the 52nd floor. He rode it down to the sky lobby on 44. The doors opened, it was fine. He rode it back up and got Harry and Victor. I don't yet know if anyone else joined them. Once on 44 they made their way back into the stairwell. Someplace around the 39th to 36th floors they felt the same rumble I felt on the 3rd floor. It was 10am and Tower 2 was coming down. They had about 30 minutes to get out. Victor said he could no longer move. They offered to have him lead on them. He said he couldn't do it. My partner hollered at him to sit on his butt and schooch down the steps. He said he was not capable of doing it. Harry told my partner to go ahead of them. Harry had once had a heart attack and was worried about this mans heart. It was his nature to be this way. He was/is one of the kindest people I know. He would not leave a man behind. My partner went ahead and made it out. He said he was out maybe 10 minutes before the building came down. This means that Harry had maybe 25 minutes to move Victor 36 floors. I guess they moved 1 floor every 1.5 minutes. Just a guess. This means Harry was around the 20th floor when the building collapsed. As of now 12 of 13 people are accounted for. As of 6pm yesterday his wife had not heard from him. I fear that Harry is lost. However, a short while ago I heard that he may be alive. Apparently there is a web site with survivor names on it and his name appears there. Unfortunately, Ramos is not an uncommon name in New York. Pray for him and all those like him.

With regards to the firemen heading upstairs, I realize that they were going up anyway. But, it hurts to know that I may have made them move quicker to find my friend. Rationally, I know this is not true and that I am not the responsible one. The responsible ones are in hiding somewhere on this planet and damn them for making me feel like this. But they should know that they failed in terrorizing us. We were calm. Those men and women that went up were heroes in the face of it all. They must have known what was going on and they did their jobs. Ordinary people were heroes too. Today the images that people around the world equate with power and democracy are gone but "America" is not an image it is a concept. That concept is only strengthened by our pulling together as a team. If you want to kill us, leave us alone because we will do it by ourselves. If you want to make us stronger, attack and we unite. This is the ultimate failure of terrorism against The United States and the ultimate price we pay to be free, to decide where we want to work, what we want to eat, and when & where we want to go on vacation. The very moment the first plane was hijacked, democracy won.

A Race to Safety
What Was It Like Inside One World Trade Center?
By Greg Trevor

My life was spared by 11 minutes.

On Sept. 11, my coworkers and I escaped One World Trade Center at 10:18 a.m. The building collapsed seconds before 10:29 a.m.

I owe my life to three things: a knit tie; a quick-thinking Port Authority Police officer; and the foresight of the architects and engineers who designed the World Trade Center strong enough to withstand direct hits from jets – and enable an estimated 25,000 people to escape.

When the first of two 767s hit the Twin Towers at 8:46 a.m., I was standing behind my desk on the south side of the 68th floor of One World Trade Center, in the Public Affairs Department of The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

I had been working for nearly two hours, and had just finished a phone call to a colleague at Newark International Airport. I stood to stretch my legs and looked out the window at the Statue of Liberty, which sparkled from the sunlight of that unusually bright morning.

I was nearly knocked to the floor by the impact of the first plane, which slammed into the north side of Tower One more than 20 floors above me. I heard a loud thud, followed by an explosion. The building felt like it swayed about 10 feet to the south. It shuddered back to the north, then shimmied back and forth.

Out the window I saw a parabola of flame fall toward the street, followed by a blizzard of paper and glass. Then I heard two sounds: emergency sirens on the street, and phones ringing across the 68th floor – calls from reporters wondering what had happened.

Dazed but anxious to get out, I ran to the office of my department Director, Kayla Bergeron. She was already on the phone to the Port Authority’s Chief Operating Officer, Ernesto Butcher. I got on Kayla’s other line and contacted the Port Authority Police Department’s headquarters in Jersey City.

Within a few minutes, we gathered the staff, threw files and notepads into our bags, and prepared to evacuate the floor. It began to fill with grainy smoke.

We forwarded the office phones to the Port Authority’s Central Police Desk in Jersey City, so the media could leave messages while we escaped. Ana Abelians, a member of our staff, said two media calls were holding. I replied, "You get one, I’ll get the other one, we’ll get rid of them and get the hell out of here."

I picked up the phone. "Greg Trevor here."

"Hi, I’m with NBC national news. If you could hold on for about 5 minutes, we’re going to put you on for a live phone interview."

"I’m sorry, I can’t. We’re evacuating the building."

"But this will only take a minute."

"I’m sorry, you don’t understand. We’re leaving the building right now."

He seemed stunned. "But, but, this is NBC NATIONAL news." (Apparently, I don’t have to risk my life for the local NBC affiliate, but no sacrifice is too great for the NATIONAL news.)

I said "I’m sorry" once more, then hung up.

For more than an hour, we joined thousands of fellow World Trade Center workers who patiently descended the emergency stairwells.

I wasn’t scared at first. My initial feelings were disorientation and disbelief. When we entered the stairwell, all we knew was that a plane had struck the building. It didn’t make sense. (How could a plane hit a 110-story building on such a clear day?) Because we were in the stairwell, we didn’t feel the impact of the second plane hitting Two World Trade Center.

I tried to call my wife, Allison, several times by cell phone, but couldn’t get through. Fortunately, I reached my colleague, Pasquale DiFulco, through my interactive pager.

Pasquale, who began the day on vacation and was watching CNN, called Allison to let her know I was safe. He also used his pager to tell us what was really going on.

9:32 a.m. page from Pasquale: AA 676 from Boston crashed into 1wtc. FBI reporting plane was hijacked moments before crash saw second plane crash live on CNN into 2 wtc. Bush just made announcement possible terrorist attack.

9:36 a.m.: At least 1,000 injuries -- CNN

9:41 a.m.: Fire at the Pentagon

9:43 a.m. page to Pasquale: Oh Christ.

9:43 a.m. page from Pasquale: Pentagon and White House being evacuated.

9:46 a.m.: Fire on mall in Washington.

:49 a.m.: FAA closes all flights nationwide.

9:52 a.m.: Plane hit Pentagon.

9:54 a.m.: Capitol treasury also evacuated.

Despite this news, our long walk in search of safety remained calm and orderly. We had conducted regular fire drills, so we knew what to do. Every few floors, we would stop, move to the right of the stairwell and make room for injured people walking down – and firefighters and Port Authority Police officers running up.

Then we reached the fifth floor just before 10 a.m.

We heard a loud rumble. The building shook violently. I was thrown from one side of the stairwell to the other.

We didn’t know it at the time, but Tower Two had just collapsed.

Our stairwell filled with smoke and concrete dust. Breathing became difficult. The lights died. A steady stream of water, about 4 inches deep, began running down the stairs. It felt like we were wading through a dark, dirty, rapid river – at night in the middle of a forest fire.

The smartest decision I made that day was to wear a knit tie to work. I put the blue tie over my nose and mouth to block the smoke and dust. To keep from hyperventilating, I remembered the breathing exercises my wife and I learned in our Lamaze classes.

Someone yelled that we should put our right hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us and keep walking down. We descended one more flight, to the fourth floor, when I heard someone say: "Oh shit, the door’s blocked."

The force from the collapse of Tower Two had apparently jammed the emergency exit. We were ordered to turn around and head back up the stairs, to see if we could transfer to another stairwell.

Now we were wading against the current of that dark, dirty river. Others were still trying to walk down. People were starting to panic.

For the first time, I was afraid we wouldn’t make it. I whispered a quick prayer: "Lord, please let me see my family again."

Then I closed my eyes, and made mental pictures of my family’s faces: Allison’s beautiful brown eyes; our 5-year-old son Gabriel’s deep blue eyes and dimples; our 2-year-old son Lucas’ blond ringlets.

I remember thinking: Their faces will keep me calm. And if I die, they will be the last thing on my mind.

During this ordeal, Pasquale sent me a series of frantic pages that didn’t go through.

10 a.m. page from Pasquale: Please tell me u r OK Please respond. Another explosion at WTC

10:02 a.m.: Part of 2 wtc has collapsed. Is everyone ok?

10:06 a.m.: Please respond.

10:12 a.m.: Where are you? 2 wtc just collapsed?

I don’t know how many minutes it took for emergency workers to clear the exit. But when they did, thank God that Port Authority Police Officer David Lim was there.

David is a K-9 officer whose partner, Sirius, was killed in the attacks. He was later trapped in the rubble for nearly five hours. David had the presence of mind to figure out a way to get us all turned around and headed back downstairs. Over and over, he shouted: "Down is good! Down is good!"

When I heard that, I shouted "Down is good!" up the stairwell. Like an echo, I heard others shout "Down is good!" up the line.

Now we darted down the stairs as quickly as possible.

The emergency exit led to the mezzanine level of Tower One. We walked several hundred feet to a glass door that led outside.

The mezzanine was filled with dull-beige concrete dust – on the floor, in the air, caked against the floor-to-ceiling windows. It felt like we were walking through a huge, dirty snow globe that had just been shaken.

It was even worse when we walked outside, near Six World Trade Center. The plaza was a minefield of twisted metal, covered by a layer of concrete dust several inches thick. I am grateful for that dust, because it means I didn’t see any bodies.

As we were leaving the building, my pager buzzed with a message from Al Frank, a reporter with the Newark Star-Ledger who has covered the Port Authority for years.

10:17 a.m. page from Al Frank: are you okay?

I replied a minute later, as we were walking along the outside of Six World Trade: We're out of the building. Everyone is fine.

Relieved but fatigued, we sprinted down the stairs between Six and Five World Trade, then turned up Church Street and headed north.

I looked back at the Trade Center. The upper third of Tower One was on fire. There was so much smoke and dust, I couldn’t tell that Tower Two had collapsed.

At 10:24 a.m., I received a page from Kayla, my boss, who was walking about half a block behind me: Where shall we go?

I walked back to her and said we should go to the entrance of the Holland Tunnel, because I knew Port Authority Police officers would be there.

We continued walking north toward the Holland. A few minutes later, we heard an NYPD officer shout: "Run for your lives!"

We ran north for several blocks. We felt a deafening rumble, followed by a thick cloud of black smoke and brown dust.

When we finally outraced the cloud, we had almost reached the Holland Tunnel. I was standing next to a coworker, John Toth, who was limping with a bloody knee.

"John, are you all right?"

"They’re gone, Greg."

"Who’s gone, John?"

"Not who. Both towers, they’re gone."

I didn’t believe him. Then I looked back to where the Twin Towers should have been.

All I saw was smoke and sky. One World Trade Center had stayed up for more than 1 hour and 40 minutes after the first attack, enabling thousands of us to escape.

We walked the remaining blocks to the mouth of the Holland Tunnel. Military jets flew overhead.

Our clothes, hair and faces still covered with dust, we crammed into Port Authority Police cars, which took us to our temporary offices in Jersey City.

About an hour later, I wrote the first draft of our first statement after the attacks on the only form of communication I had left – my interactive pager.

Our hearts and our prayers go out to the families of the countless people – including many members of the Port Authority family – who were killed today in this brutal and cowardly attack. All PA facilities are closed until further notice. We at the PA are doing everything within our power to assist the families of the victims, and to co-operate with federal, state and local authorities to capture the perpetrators of this attack and bring them to justice.

My personal recovery has been steady in the months that have followed the attacks on the World Trade Center.

Our department worked out of Jersey City for more than two months – at first, in rotating 12-hour shifts. As we mourn the loss of 75 friends and colleagues, we have answered the deluge of questions from media around the world – about security, the recovery and our own experiences.

I returned to Ground Zero four days after the attacks. The experience was unnerving and humbling – not because of what’s there, but what used to be there. I looked up at the hole in the sky where our offices used to be, and thought about how easily we could have been trapped up there.

I often feel waves of sadness, thinking about the loss and the suffering.

I think about the 37 Port Authority Police officers and commanders who died helping others escape – particularly Captain Kathy Mazza, the first woman Commandant of the Port Authority Police Academy.

She led a group of Police Academy instructors into Tower One a few minutes after the first attack. Most of them didn’t make it out. Kathy, a former operating room nurse and one of the finest people I’ve ever known, was the first female Port Authority Police officer in the department’s 73-year history to be killed in the line of duty.

Sometimes when I’m walking down a street, I stop, lean back my head, take a deep breath of clean air – and remember those frightful minutes when we were denied this pleasure.

Cigarette smoke bothers me a lot, but food tastes much better.

My thighs ached for four days from the stairwell evacuation. My wife says my skin was dull gray for the first two days.

In mid-December, I was in bed for a week with pneumonia – a condition caused in part by the stress and exhaustion from September 11 and its aftermath.

Although my children don’t fully understand what happened, they want to cuddle more.

Therapy has been very helpful. It has shown me that I am at the beginning of a very long journey. Some days I make a lot of progress; other days I stand still.

My goal is to get as far down the road as possible. But no matter how far I go, I know that there’s no way I’ll get back to Sept. 10.

I’ve saved my tie – still caked in smoke and dust – in a sealed bag. I’ve also saved my dust-covered shoes.

God willing, if I have grandchildren, I plan to give these tragic remnants to them, along with another historic item that my grandfather gave me before he died – a baseball fouled off by Babe Ruth at the Polo Grounds in 1922.

Eyewitness Account of Pentagon Attack
By: Terry Morin

An eyewitness account of the aircraft impact into the Pentagon and subsequent rescue efforts... written by a former USMC aviator working as a contractor at the BMDO offices at the old Navy Annex:

Friends, Family, and Fellow Americans,
As many of you know, two SPARTANs were in locations on Tuesday to witness the attack on the Pentagon. Many people have asked me to share the events of that day. So, while fresh, here are my memories of that fateful day.

The Attack
I had just reached the elevator in the 5th Wing of BMDO/Federal Office Building (FOB) #2 – call it approximately 9:36 AM. I was already trying to make some sense out of the World Trade Tower attacks having heard about them on the radio. The news was sketchy, but the fact that it was a terrorist attack was already known. I then realized that I was wearing sunglasses and needed to go back to Lot 3 to retrieve my clear lenses. Since it was by no means a short walk to my car, I was upset with myself for being so distracted. Approximately 10 steps out from between Wings 4 and 5, I was making a gentle right turn towards the security check-in building just above Wing 4 when I became aware of something unusual. I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking about at that moment, but I started to hear an increasingly loud rumbling behind me and to my left. As I turned to my left, I immediately realized the noise was bouncing off the 4-story structure that was Wing 5. One to two seconds later the airliner came into my field of view. By that time the noise was absolutely deafening. I instantly had a very bad feeling about this but things were happening very quickly. The aircraft was essentially right over the top of me and the outer portion of the FOB (flight path parallel the outer edge of the FOB). Everything was shaking and vibrating, including the ground. I estimate that the aircraft was no more than 100 feet above me (30 to 50 feet above the FOB) in a slight nose down attitude. The plane had a silver body with red and blue stripes down the fuselage. I believed at the time that it belonged to American Airlines, but I couldn’t be sure. It looked like a 737 and I so reported to authorities.

Within seconds the plane cleared the 8th Wing of BMDO and was heading directly towards the Pentagon. Engines were at a steady high-pitched whine, indicating to me that the throttles were steady and full. I estimated the aircraft speed at between 350 and 400 knots. The flight path appeared to be deliberate, smooth, and controlled. As the aircraft approached the Pentagon, I saw a minor flash (later found out that the aircraft had sheared off a portion of a highway light pole down on Hwy 110). As the aircraft flew ever lower I started to lose sight of the actual airframe as a row of trees to the Northeast of the FOB blocked my view. I could now only see the tail of the aircraft. I believe I saw the tail dip slightly to the right indicating a minor turn in that direction. The tail was barely visible when I saw the flash and subsequent fireball rise approximately 200 feet above the Pentagon. There was a large explosion noise and the low frequency sound echo that comes with this type of sound. Associated with that was the increase in air pressure, momentarily, like a small gust of wind. For those formerly in the military, it sounded like a 2000lb bomb going off roughly ½ mile in front of you. At once there was a huge cloud of black smoke that rose several hundred feet up. Elapsed time from hearing the initial noise to when I saw the impact flash was between 12 and 15 seconds.

The Reaction
Many of the FOB people had been looking at the news reports flowing out of the attack on the World Trade Center Towers, going about their normal work routine as they watched. Maybe half or a bit more already knew of the New York attacks. However, within seconds of the impact -- less than a minute after the FOB flyover -- several thousand people started exiting the FOB. People poured through the vehicle security checkpoint, crossing Columbia Pike into the FOB parking lot. As people were leaving the building in a very rapid manner, emergency vehicles, police, fire engines and ambulances were racing to the scene. They began arriving within 3 to 5 minutes of the impact. Several military officers were standing in the middle of Columbia Pike, essentially directing traffic and holding the pedestrians back so that emergency vehicles could get through. The looks on their faces were somewhere between shock, terror, horror, and confusion. Many were crying. Many were stunned. Some were yelling to clear the area, move away from the buildings. Concern was that we might be the next target. Some were indicating that people should go home, but most just stared in silence at the burning West Wing of the Pentagon. Some cars were leaving the compound as well as the parking lot, but very few. Many tried to make phone calls to family or to home offices to say they were safe, but within minutes of the attack the sheer volume of traffic clobbered cell phones and other lines of communication. Those that got through needed patience and persistence.

As groups of friends and co-workers gathered to look on, immediate declarations of anger, frustration, dismay came out. We stood in the parking lot for approximately 15 minutes when a call came out for help. What must have been a hundred people moved in the direction of the Pentagon together and without hesitation. I saw Vicki Aardema, Chris Avvisato, John Schessler, and former SPARTAN Jen Metzler all walking down to the scene. As we got closer and crossed over the now empty roads, the devastation could be seen through the smoke and flames. It was just unbelievable. The police started to turn people away from the site. FBI agents were already there and had declared the whole area a crime scene. Declaring a crime scene prevents people from getting in that are not police, fire or medical type personnel. I was allowed to proceed because I witnessed the event. Ultimately, I believe that only Jen Metzler and myself made it to the scene, but I didn’t run into her for the rest of the day.

Rescue and Recovery
After I shared a couple of things that I had seen to a local law enforcement official -- what I will call a perimeter policeman -- he hustled me off to an FBI agent named Mike. He took what I would call a ¾ statement, then told me to go to the Command Post (CP) and wait. Someone else would want to discuss what I saw. At that point I met a young African American who was standing next to Mike, the FBI agent. He had streaks of blood on his T-shirt and was wearing bandages on both arms. Apparently he had been standing in the Control Tower for the Helo Pad that was approximately 200 feet to the North of the actual impact point. He still looked as though he was in shock, but indicated that he had witnessed the impact. I then confirmed that the aircraft had been flown directly into the Pentagon without hitting the ground first or skipping into the building. As he and I were walking in the direction of the CP, medical supplies started to arrive. A van pulled up and they asked for volunteers to unload. Items in the van seemed to have been loaded very hurriedly: individual packs of 4x4 gauze, irrigation fluid, IV and oxygen equipment, wooden stretchers. Medical folks were trying to get a handle on it. Get the stuff out and get it organized. Nurses were cracking the organizational whip: IV stuff here, fluid there, get those litters out of the way. About that time, we got the first of 4 or 5 calls to take cover. Reports had been received of other aircraft coming in for what could be a subsequent attack. At about the same time the upper floors on the Pentagon caved in and collapsed. I didn’t see it, but many in the crowd acknowledged the event.

We picked up the supplies and moved them under a concrete overpass with a small tunnel of about 100 feet or so of coverage. I saw a couple of injured folks, but they appeared to be in good hands – injuries did not seem from a distance to be life threatening. After a couple of the follow-on attack scares, many of us were formed up into 4-man stretcher teams. Approximately 30 teams were formed. We were moved up to the scene and given rubber gloves. We were taken in several directions, but finally landed about 300 feet west of the Helo Pad out on Hwy 110. They had set up the medical people under the trees, putting the three levels of care in a line. Dead and dying were on the North end, triage and serious in the middle, walking wounded on the South end. Doctors, Nurses, Paramedics, Flight Surgeons, EMT’s – every brand of medical professional – were everywhere. Hwy 110 became a staging point for ambulances, and police vehicles. Fire trucks had already been moved into position to fight the fires that were proceeding to the left, right, and into the center of the Pentagon. Every time we moved up to try and take people out, the fires would flare-up making it impossible to put non-professionals with no equipment into the building. That said, there were not enough firemen to simultaneously fight the fire and do stretcher duty, so they asked us to hang tight.

After about three hours, the officials started to become concerned about the volunteers. It was hot and most of us had been standing or working in the sun for the entire time. That’s when an unbelievable amount of supplies started to show up. Gallon water jugs, bottled water, Gatorade, soda, snacks -- you name it and it was there. The volunteers started to unload and stage the supplies. Several of us started to build a forward water station for the firemen. Only a few of the bottles were cold, so ice was being brought in to help that situation. We used cardboard boxes to hold the drinks and the ice as best we could, there being no large coolers available. Three of us started carrying the cold water bottles and snacks down to the firefighters that were staged in small teams. We were actually inside the crime scene area (because of all the pieces of the aircraft and building lying on the ground). The firemen were appreciative, as the heat inside the building generated from the 8,500 gallons of jet fuel was, in their words, “unbelievable.” It was reported that at least three of the fireman had to be given IV fluids due to the extreme heat. After about 20 minutes a local policeman came over and made us vacate the water station (inside the crime scene designated area) because it was obvious that we weren’t law enforcement.

For the next three hours we waited to be called up to help bring people out. At about 3PM, we were formed into 12 man teams, reissued gloves and masks, and briefed by authorities on how to do the job. At this point, we were going to enter the Pentagon, but not too far. Because the fire was still burning, the structure was not safe for deeper penetration by non-professionals. The idea was that the firemen would bring the bodies to us and we would carry them out. Within 15 minutes of that briefing, a 3-Star Army Lt General gathered us up. He announced that the Old Guard from Ft Myer was being brought in to replace us within 3 hours. The 12 man litter teams continued to wait in place until the Old Guard arrived.

The People
The mood was somber and filled with frustration, anger, and shock. People wanted to get inside to help those injured or trapped. Those immediately outside the Pentagon were not being told of the scene inside, so there was some perceived jerking around going on. It wasn’t until later that it all fell into place. In the moments where the action slowed, discussions revolved around who was where, what they were doing, and what they saw. I heard a lot of questions: Who was in the office spaces? How many people on the aircraft? What type of plane? Was it an airliner? Do we know or have any word on the dead or injured? How did the aircraft hit? Did it fly in or did it hit the ground first? A thousand more questions waited.

I met some real Americans that day. The following are just a few of the people that I met and short stories about them. No last names:

Chris: He was one of my many litter partners. A young Army SSgt who is the Chef for the Army Chief of Staff. At one point, when we didn’t have masks to wear, he took off his T-shirt and proceeded to tear it up so we could be a little safer.

Christina: She works in Air Force Intel. She was my water station partner. Energetic, just wanted to be a part of the solution. Carried full boxes of water and ice, as well as snacks to the firemen. She also jumped in to organize the snacks so the firemen and the medical people could find what they wanted.

Larry: Air Force 2 Star General. Was the senior officer present on the scene for the Air Force. Larry was coordinating people counts and Air Force volunteer actions on the ground. He was taking several reports and discussing what people had seen and heard. For most of the day, he stood with most of us as a litter team member. Later that evening, I gave him a ride home since the Metro was not stopping at the Pentagon.

The Marine Colonel: As we were standing there in the hot sun, a Marine Colonel had stepped into line to serve as a litter team member. He was wearing Alpha’s with a barracks cover. That means he was dressed up in the green coat with all of his decorations. As he stepped into line, he very carefully took off his coat and cover (hat) and laid it on the concrete median there on Hwy 110. He then took off his tie and rolled up his sleeves. The entire time I was around him, off and on, I didn’t hear him speak a word. Other young Marine Officers were standing around him, giving him reports on what they knew and had heard. The thing that struck me the most was the look on his face. “Resolve” is the word that comes to mind. Calm, Focused Resolve.

Ken: A retired Army Officer who is now serving as part of the Army Personnel Office. He was knocked to the floor in the impact/explosion. The smoke was so thick he had to crawl a ways in his escape. His section was the most heavily hit. He lost several friends and co-workers. Ken was there the entire day, despite his own ordeal. I also dropped him off at his car that night.

Reggy: He is an Army Major. He was my partner for going into the Pentagon. One goes down, your partner brings you out. I fear he had the worse end of that deal.

Sgt Maj: From the Army, he was coordinating the 12 man litter teams. When he got to me, he said, “Sir, are you sure you’re up to this.” I told him I was and gave him a quick “Arugha.” He smiled and we pressed on.

An Army 2 Star General and An Army 1 Star General: In our 3rd or 4th run for cover due to possible follow-on attacks, my Company picked up the bill for a couple of minutes on my cell phone. These gents had not yet got local phone calls out to their wives yet to let them know they were alive. There were also a couple of more calls for them to report to the ops centers. It turned out that the 1 Star was the son of a Four Star Army General that I had served with in Korea in 1985 and 1986.

3 Star Army General: Grayed hair gentleman that would have qualified as a southern gentleman by the way he carried himself. He spoke in a forceful, clear, and compassionate manner. He appeared to be the on-scene commander. He moved about taking reports and apparently directing the military and volunteer actions there on scene. His last words to us after announcing that the Old Guard would relieve us were, “thank you all for being here, and God Bless each of you.”

There were 3 Flag Rank Officers, several O-6’s from all the services, and a multitude of others (civilians, contractors, and others) that made up the volunteer ranks. No one argued. Everyone did whatever was asked without a second thought. There must have been 30 Chaplains and men of the cloth (not just military) there. Every now and then one would be called up for help, but they too were put into a group so they could respond to the individuals or bodies being brought out. In addition to that, I saw several mingling with the entire team, medical, volunteers, and others, ministering to the pain and shock that was there. Civilian nurses, paramedics, and other medical personnel showed up with logos from several of the local hospitals. Some of the woman nurses were older, but you should have seen how they got up and over the concrete Highway barriers with full dresses and skirts on, sometimes on their own, sometimes with assistance. Teamwork was everywhere.

Summary
I’m not sure how to end this, because there is no ending yet. I don’t have any patriotic soundbyte, just a deep love for our country. Only now am I beginning to fully realize what I saw and experienced. Words like “surreal,” “shock,” “disbelief,” “frustration,” and “anger” comes to mind, but I don’t yet have a dominant, overwhelming feeling. Like many of you, my anger quotient is heading to overload. I don’t know or understand the lesson that we were supposed to have learned. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand.

Closer to home (Fredericksburg), we lost two people. One female government employee who is a neighbor and another father who worked in the Pentagon. His daughter goes to school with my sons Mike and Sean. That said, I know that as horrible as it was at the Pentagon, it does not come close to the magnitude of horror, destruction, and death that was experienced in New York. Regarding Pennsylvania, I can only say as a former Marine Aviator, who served on a couple of accident boards, aircraft accidents are never good, but thank God for their heroism.

I still have more questions than answers. I love that our country has come together. I’m sorry that it took this to do it. Thanks to all of you who contributed your sweat on that day, to all of you who gave blood, to all who responded to relief drives, to all those who called us in Washington to ask after our welfare. Thanks for caring. Hug the ones you love. Be there for each other and God Bless America.