"I am currently serving as a Coro Fellow in Public Affairs in New York City, a graduate level and difficult program to get into. For nine months, a group of 11-12 fellows intern in five different sectors of government. I was assigned to the NY Fire Department and [Tuesday] was my first day of work. Me and another fellow, Matt, were assigned to the FDNY Headquarters in MetroTech, Brooklyn. I was to be working on diversity issues in their training, but we were to figure that all out today.
It was an unusually nice morning. Crisp, with a nice breeze flowing through - I finally thought that the heat would begin to break. It made me feel good, like it was my first real day of work for this fellowship. After arriving, Matt and I were chatting when we heard the alarm and the sirens. He turned to me and said, 'There's a fire somewhere, they just got called.' For some strange reason, I glanced to the window behind me and to the right, I saw the Twin Towers looming in the distance, the first tower billowing smoke out of the windows. Immediately, I felt a chill and said,'Holy s---, the World Trade Center is on fire.'
What happened next is already sort of a blur, but I'll never forget it. Almost immediately after that, I thought to myself, 'What an interesting placement I have just gotten, that I happen to be in the FDNY Headquarters when a fire breaks out at the Twin Towers.' We shuffled into the boss' office, where he had a walkie-talkie to the Mayor and we quickly realized that we were sitting almost in the control hub of this disaster. There was quick talk of us possibly going out with the wave of firefighters from Brooklyn to observe when the news hit that it was a plane that flew into the building. Assessing the damage, Matt and I sat there silent as we realized that something quite unbelievable was happening. It was then that the second plane hit the other tower. We immediately realized that it wasn't just a coincidence. All the people in the room were repeating over and over one word as this strange day unfolded: Sabotoge.
The building sirens went off as they secured the perimeter of the building, not knowing whether or not they were going to hit other state buildings. All available firemen and EMT's in the building were called to the lobby as they were soon dispatched to the scene.We watched hopelessly murmuring as the towers continued to burn, torn between the TV screen and the window, watching it all unfold. Then, as we were lost in a flurry of activity in the office between finding phones that worked and people rushing in and out of the office, the absolute unbelievable happened as we watched the first tower begin to crumble on the TV screen, quickly turning to the window as we watched the only visible part of the building, the antenna on top, sink through the clouds of smoke that turned from thick black to grey. The second building was teetering, they were saying on the news. But we couldn't tell anymore by looking out the window. The smoke had already started to move southeast into Brooklyn and all we saw was black smoke pushing the grey down. All I know is that we were praying for a miracle, that it was all just a dream. The fire alone was crazy - the firefighters couldn't get the hoses up that far, the water break wouldn't even allow them a chance to fight the fire due to the heat in the pipes. It was just too much to take in. Especially the fact that the crackle over the walkie-talkies was the guys at ground zero, yelling at each other through the channel, trying to figure out who was where and who was still alive. It sunk in that many of our guys were lost, when simultaneously the second tower collapsed. And the numbness that I had felt just fifteen minutes before could not compare to what I was feeling now.
For me, personally, I was a strange mix of emotions, as most New Yorkers. For starters, I know that I had only been there for half a day, but I was feeling so close to all of the firemen and there was that incredible sense of loss. Then there was just the image itself. A billowing cloud of smoke stood where two skyscrapers that were like lighthouses for me. When I would drive in from WC and hit Newark, NJ, I used to hate it. For me, you could hear the 'Halelluja' chorus when the first sight of Manhattan appeared. If you were driving at night, the first sight of Manhattan was always the Twin Towers, looming like lighthouses, securing the edge of the great city beyond. And now they were gone. In its place was destruction, bedlam, and the promise of an empty canyon. Just a week before, I had been in the Twin Towers, rushing through the mall on the ground to the subway. I had told myself that I needed to come back and do some shopping.
The next few hours play like some strange cryptic poem or something - the flames, the crackle of the walkie-talkies, people rushing in and out, hearing snippets of what was happening on the ground. Some strange dance that I never wanted to be a part of, but couldn't help watching. They brought in lunches for the building at 2 p.m.. That's the only time that I really remember between when it first started and the time that I got home. Bush on the TV, the Pentagon. I wanted to scream, cry, get down on my knees and pray to God or whoever she is for some end to it all, or to sit in a corner and wish it all away, but I was there, listening to the men who fight fires and save lives crackle in and out of the radio, watching the news coverage, and helpless inside a building that could be targeted next.
Immediately, another quote came to me, 'The price of freedom is eternal vigilence.' But who would ever think that someone would fly a plane into a building full of innocent workers?
But I'm home. And safe, I presume. I'm more than bothered, I'm shook up, and I don't even know where to begin."
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