Thirteen year anniversary, I still vividly remember where I was and what I was doing that morning. I was a 2LT in charge of a funeral detail team on temporary duty for a week at the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery. We were preparing to perform back to back funerals that morning, me and my NCO conducting uniform inspections and rehearsals at Fort Worth NAS prior to leaving for the cemetery when it became obvious what was happening. They cancelled the funerals and we were locked down on the base for two days. I kept rehearsing my team, knowing what were doing would be more profound. The first funeral we did after reopening the cemetery was for a WWII veteran. As the family gathered, the man's widow asked to read a letter he had written and wanted shared with his family and friends before I began the ceremony. The letter she read thanked his wife for a great life together, and thanked his family and friends for making his life fulfilled. Then he said to look at the men standing in front you, the men who are performing the service. Never forget the sacrifice they are prepared to make, the nation and way of life they have sworn to protect, and the duty they have volunteered to perform. He asked that his family and friends say a prayer for us, and thank us for what we were prepared to do. He had written the letter months before 9/11 happened, the events of that day still very new to all of us. I kept it together through the flag folding and rendering of honors and taps. I walked in front of his widow, handed her the flag, and as I asked her to please accept this flag, I felt a tear roll down. She reached out, took the flag, smiled, put her hand on my cheek, and simply said God bless you. Thirteen years later, I still remember. And it seems like I've been fighting ever since. Little did I know how prophetic his words would be. Little did I know what the word sacrifice really meant.
Thanks for your service and thanks for the wonderful story. I was working for a Government contractor running the Air Force's Satellite Control Network. Turned out to be a 36 hour work session before getting out of the office for a few hours and resuming long, long work days.
I was in the office when a colleague came in and said his girlfriend called and that an aircraft had hit the World Trade Center. We were thinking light plane or helicopter and went down to the video lab and tuned in the news. We were sitting there watching when the second plane hit. I remember the look on everyones face when we instantly realized that this could not be an accident.
My older daughter was one month old that morning. The night before, on the 10th, she slept through the night for the first time, woke up at 5 for a feeding, and then both of us went back to sleep. I was awoken by the phone ringing around 9 o'clock. I didn't get up to answer it, but it was followed by another call a couple of minutes later. I walked up to the kitchen and checked the messages. They were from my husband, telling me to turn on the news, that there had been a plane crash at the World Trade Center. By the time I turned on the TV, I was greeted with a split screen of the both of the Twin Towers on fire and the Pentagon also engulfed in flames. I sank to my knees and immediately knew we were under attack. The sheer terror of that moment will be burned into my brain always. In the weeks that followed, I was particularly drawn to the stories of the pregnant women who lost their husbands on 9/11, the men who never met their unborn children. The attached link is from a story in 2011 when the children turned 10. They are the peers of my now teenager. One mother, in particular, struck me (she's not in the 10-year anniversary video). Her name was Stacey Staub, and her husband, Craig, died in the south tower. She was nine months pregnant with their first child and was already on leave from her job in the city on 9/11. Craig's birthday was September 22, 1970--my exact birthday. Their daughter, Juliette Craig, was born on September 22, 2001. I wrote a column in The Dallas Morning News on the second anniversary of 9/11 in 2003, writing about Generation X and 9/11. I wrote about this couple, in particular. Some months later, Stacey Staub googled her husband's name and found my column. She and I started an email friendship, and the impact of "meeting" her was very powerful. Never forget...
Thirteen years ago today I woke up and turned on the TV. I saw the burning North Tower and I thought it had to be some horrible accident. Every channel had the same view of it on. Then I saw the second plane slam into the South Tower. I watched people jumping and falling from the buildings to their deaths to avoid dying by being burned. I watched as first one tower and then the other collapsed. People were running in the streets to get away from it. I had never really thought about Muslims too much until that day. Sure, I knew they were crazy bastards who wanted to live in the 9th century but I never thought they could pull off the worst attack on America since Pearl Harbor. I wish every single one of them could be wiped off the face of the earth. May you roast in Hell forever and ever and ever Osama Bin Laden! NEVER FORGET! 9/11/2001
You know what's strange, the memory of that day is so foggy. I remember where I was, but I don't remember watching it, even though I know I did. There was only 1 other tragic event like that which I remember where I was when it went down and that was the Challenger explosion, we were watching that in school, and I was 10 years old. I remember that with more clarity than 9-11 which makes no sense to me. But so many images, like the ones above, are engrained into my head. Also there is a documentary called The Falling Man, which is a good documentary on a jumper from the first tower. Can you imagine that? Jumping from that high in the air because of the heat? Unreal. I count my blessings, thank you to all first responders, and those in the military. Your service means a lot to bums like me.
I was still on Drill Sergeant duty and had pulled CQ the night before. It is 24 hour shift where you just stay in the barracks all night long to make sure the dumb ass privates don't burn it down or have an orgy or pay per view boxing in the war room. Anyway, the crew came in the morning of the 11th and I went home. I had just gotten out of the shower and was about to settle in for a quick nap before I headed out to celebrate my birthday. I too popped on the TV to see the first tower burning and then shortly after the 2nd plane came. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I ran next door and my neighbor was in the shower, I said "Dude, get out here we are being fucking attacked" It was crazy.
