VISIT TO GROUND ZERO

I felt compelled to return to New York City and go to “Ground Zero”, to see firsthand what others could only try to describe. My travel companions were Lieut. Robert Kepchar and firefighter Denis Duffy. We took the train to Grand Central station, then walked west across Manhattan. Our first stop was Rescue Co. No. 1 to pay our respects. I explained to Bob and Denis that we should keep our visit brief. After we exchanged pleasantries and condolences with the men of this elite rescue unit, I turned over the 18 dozen cookies Anna had baked for them. We were offered coffee [a firehouse staple] and then sat around a large oak table talking. Their pain was palpable. Though we tried to stay off the subject of the World Trade Center, it would keep creeping into the conversation. One of the Rescue One members talked about the noise the first tower made as it fell to the ground. He said, “I will never forget that sound”. Another one of the members across the table from him just stared at the tabletop and said, “I didn’t hear a thing”. It is strange how people perceive things differently during times of crisis. Where one hears a horrible din, another perceives only silence. I felt for these men, they had suffered much. Their suffering continued through the actions of well-meaning people. The department was not sending them on their usual number of calls. They were more or less being held in reserve, which allowed them more time to contemplate the events in September 11th. They were being bombarded day and night by well wishers knocking on their door. When they were called out, it was usually to Ground Zero to aid in the search. On their days off, they would be hit with the added dilemma of having to decide which friend’s funeral to attend. In spite of all this, there was something wonderful about these men. They were not victims; at least not “victims” as it is normally defined. They were tools that wanted to be used. They had a strong desire to get back to work. Instead of standing around they wanted to be busy helping others. If the World Trade Center incident was to be repeated, I have no doubt they would all answer the call once again.

We rode to lower Manhattan as far as the cab could take us. After making our way to West Street we headed south along the river. We passed long lines of trucks carrying their huge cargoes of debris to the barges waiting dockside. As we drew closer to ” Ground Zero” the devastation grew in magnitude. Trucks watered the highway to keep down the omnipresent gray dust. All along the way, heavyhearted police officers and soldiers stood guard. Almost every intersection and sidestreet had checkpoints. Once pristine skyscrapers now bore the scars of broken windows and blackened façades. Fires continued to burn everywhere underground. Where once stood towering skyscrapers, now there were only voids and smoldering ruins. Dante could not have imagined a more dismal and ravaged landscape. The scene truly defies description because of the enormity of the destruction and the knowledge of the humanity intertwined with the wreckage. Between the three of us we had almost 90 years of accumulated service in fire rescue, but never had we ever seen anything to compare with this. The sights, sounds and smells that assault the viewer strike within them a chord, one that will resonate forever. One other time I have had close to the same feelings. It was while standing on the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. But that was different, that was past history, this was present. Even standing there it was hard to believe. I did not want to believe it, but, there were just too many empty helmets resting on coffins, or clutched in the hands of sons and daughters for the truth to be denied.