The Only Plane in the Sky

by Garrett M Graff

  Gary Smiley, paramedic, FDNY: I started crawling my way out of there, digging through the rocks and the debris. Just as I got out, a fireman who had also been lodged in the debris had gotten himself out. Both of us staggered around. I don’t know how long we walked for.

  Bill Spade: I tried banging the walls to make a hole in the wall, but we weren’t getting anywhere with that. We were very tired and spent and beat up. We were in this room I figured around an hour. One of the younger firemen said, “I think I found a way out. At the end of the office building, top window left, there seems to be an opening.” We walked along the wall—we had to feel our way around, it was a little dark—making our way over stuff, and sure enough there was a spot up there with a little light. We made our way up on top of the debris to get up in there and made it wider. We went to the edge of where we were, up about 35 feet in the air. I remember looking out. Everything was on fire.

  Gary Smiley: People started calling out, “Is anybody out there?” We went toward their voices. It was a deli owner and his wife. They pulled us into their deli. About six or seven cops and some firemen were already in there, all variously injured and having a hard time breathing. They had taken a hose out of the kitchen to clean everybody off.

  Jeff Johnson, firefighter, Engine 74, FDNY: I finally got out. I could see a couple of flashing lights, what we call Mars lights, the revolving lights on top of a fire truck or a police truck. I saw the yellow bumblebee stripes of a couple of coats, because they reflect instantly off any light. There was no street anymore.

  Alan Reiss, director of the World Trade Center, Port Authority: It’s quiet except for one thing—the PASS alarm.

  Det. David Brink: The PASS alarm—it’s a really shrill sound and that means that a firefighter is down and in trouble and he’s motionless. All you heard were these PASS alarms going off, over and over again. You couldn’t tell where they were coming from.

  Al Kim: It was everywhere. That’s all you heard. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep sounds everywhere.

  Alan Reiss: All you heard was a lot of them going off.

  Jeff Johnson: I made my way toward a fire truck. It so happened that there was a chief there and a fireman from Rescue, Paul Hashagen, who I happen to know. Paul was saying, “Are you okay?” I said, “Yeah, are you all right? What’s going on?” He said, “The Towers collapsed.” I turned around and I looked and I saw the Towers were actually gone. I couldn’t believe it.

  I immediately went to the chief, and I started trying to get his attention. It was frustrating to me, because he wasn’t listening to what I was saying. I was looking at him—man to man—looking right into his eyes, and saying, “Chief, I’m missing Ruben, I’m missing this guy, we don’t know where that guy is, we were up on the 22nd floor.” I’m giving him all the information I can think of, popping out of my head. My friend Paul said, “Jeff.” I said, “What?” He said, “Jeff, turn around.” I turned around and I realized there was no 22—the Marriott was gone. The chief said to us, “Head for the water.”

  “All available boats”

  * * *

  At the Waterfront

  For those at the tip of Lower Manhattan, the only viable evacuation route turned out to be the water. A makeshift, unorganized armada of more than 130 ferries, pleasure yachts, sightseeing vessels, Coast Guard and police vessels, fireboats, and tugboats gathered—many without being asked—at Battery Park and nearby piers. By the end of the day, they had collectively evacuated somewhere between 300,000 and 500,000 people from Manhattan—a maritime rescue larger than the World War II evacuation from Dunkirk.

  Lt. Joseph Torrillo, director of fire education safety, FDNY: Two of the ambulance crews, they were digging and digging and they found me. They got me out from underneath the rubble. They put me on this long, stiff piece of plastic called a spine board and strapped my hands to my chest. They taped my neck onto the spine board—they thought I had a broken neck—and they ran with me to the marina in the back of the World Financial Center and they put me on the deck of a boat.

  With that, there was a loud rumble and a roar and the people on the boat started screaming, “Oh, my God! Here comes the other building!” Everybody jumped off the boat. I was left all alone and was getting hit with the glass from the North Tower. Frantic, I bent my finger and the release belt opened and my hands were free, and I ripped the tape off of my neck. I rolled off the stretcher, and I jumped into the doorway, not knowing I ended up diving headfirst into the engine room of the boat. The North Tower was hitting the deck of the boat. The boat was rocking. I thought it was going to go under.

  Peter Moog, officer, NYPD: I heard a lady yell, “Help, TARU!” She had read the shirt I had on which said “TARU” [Technical Assistance Response Unit] on the back. She was a lieutenant I knew, Terri Tobin, and she had a huge piece of concrete embedded in her head and two very large jagged pieces of glass in her back, both left and right of her spine. She was lying on the ground.

  Lt. Terri Tobin, public information officer, NYPD: He was a real cutie. He said, “I think I should carry you down to the water.” I responded, “Peter, that’s okay, I saw EMS. They wrapped my head.” He said, “No, through your blouse—between your shoulder blades—there’s a shard of glass sticking out of your back.”

  Peter Moog: I carried her down to the water. Another officer and I got her down on a boat by the North Cove Marina.

  Lt. Terri Tobin: An NYPD harbor boat pulled up, and the captain—who I knew—hopped out and saw me. He said, “You need to go to a hospital.” But I couldn’t get on board with a shard of glass in my back because they were afraid that if the boat rocked, it would cause more damage. He called over two EMS workers, and as I held on to a railing, they put their feet up against the railing, and ripped this glass out of my back.

  Peter Moog: There were one or two fireboats and some civilian boats that people were being loaded onto. One of our harbor boats pulled in, and I knew a guy on it, Keith Duvall. He said, “Grab a sledgehammer. We’ll break into one of these yachts and take it.” There were about a thousand people there, all waiting to get the hell off the island. Keith and I broke into a boat. I said, “Rich people always leave the keys in the boat.” We ended up finding the keys and Keith got the boat started. I think he made about 10 trips back and forth to Jersey, taking about a hundred people a trip.

  Jeff Johnson, firefighter, Engine 74, FDNY: I was heading toward the water, and I ended up coming out at the south end of the marina. There was a hose from the marina, and that was the first time I was able to flush my eyes. I ran into somebody else I knew, Det. Keith Duvall, who was on a boat. He was shuttling people back and forth to Jersey. All we basically said was, “Keith, are you okay?” “Yeah. Jeff, are you all right?” “Okay.” Just friends, just checking.

  Lt. Joseph Torrillo: Maybe about a half hour later, as I was losing consciousness, I heard banging on the deck of the boat and I heard voices, and I heard somebody say, “Start the engines. Start the engines.” Somebody came down that long, steep flight of stairs to start the engines, and in the darkness, he stepped on my chest. I let out this loud scream. I scared the daylights out of him.

  James Luongo, inspector, NYPD: We were down by the Hudson, and New York Waterways had pulled up and there was a line of people to evacuate. It was surreal because the people on the boat were saying, “Women and children. Women and children. Women and children.”

  Rick Thornton, ferry captain, Henry Hudson, New York Waterways: It was like being the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

  Tom Sullivan, firefighter, Marine 1, FDNY: Mothers and nannies with infants in their arms were dropping their children down to us. At one point we had four or five of them wrapped in little blankets, and we put them in bunks down in the crew quarters. I put four babies in one bunk, like little peanuts lined up in a row.

  Lt. Michael Day, U.S. Coast Guard: There was a small boat that was at the lower tip of Manhattan. I thought the boat was going to flip over because so many people were trying
to get on.

  Jack Ackerman, Sandy Hook harbor pilot: At any given time, Battery Park was ringed by 10 or 12 boats waiting for people.

  Herb Jones, engineer, Mary Gellatly: We went back and forth all day long, carrying as many as our boat would hold. It was a lot of people—a lot of people.

  Jacqui Gibbs, vice president, JPMorgan Chase: When we arrived at the pier, thousands of people were waiting in line—thousands. Yet you could hear a pin drop—that was the scariest part of it. We walked blocks and blocks trying to find the end of the line. The wait lasted three hours.

  Rick Schoenlank, president, United New Jersey Sandy Hook Pilots Benevolent Association: They started hanging sheets over the bows of these tugs that said “New Jersey” or “Brooklyn.” People were getting on. They were in bad shape, these people, and they needed to get off the island.

  Lt. Michael Day: We decided to make the call on the radio. “All available boats, this is the United States Coast Guard aboard the Pilot boat, New York. Anyone available to help with the evacuation of Lower Manhattan, report to Governors Island.” About 15, 20 minutes later, there were boats all across the horizon.

  Rick Schoenlank: All these commercial boats, tugs, ferries, fishing boats, launches, dinner boats—everybody converging on the lower part of Manhattan to conduct the evacuation.

  Capt. James Parese, Staten Island Ferry: Tugboats—I’ve never seen so many tugboats all at once.

  Keturah Bostick, student, HSLPS: My classmates Chante, Luis, and I met up in a men’s bathroom at the ferry. We stayed there until we saw Mr. Sparnroft and some other students going on the Staten Island Ferry.

  Heather Ordover, English teacher, HSLPS: All I wanted to do was get off that island. I joked with a teacher I had never wanted to go to Staten Island so badly.

  Keturah Bostick: From a pay phone close by I called my mother, crying, saying, “Mommy, I’m all right—don’t worry about me. Some students are going to Staten Island, I’ll call when I get there.”

  Heather Ordover: I looked at the water and saw another ferryboat. In my book Jersey was currently a helluva lot safer than crossing any bridge to Brooklyn. We rounded up whoever wanted to go with us and muscled over to the boat. All we had to do was yell, “We’ve got students,” and the adults parted like the Red Sea.

  Tim Seto, student, HSLPS: There were thousands and thousands of people on this little ferry. Everyone was standing, trying to make room for as many people as possible.

  Keturah Bostick: As we rolled by the Statue of Liberty, I wondered if the statue was going to blow up. Was all of Manhattan going up in flames, and, if so, was my family okay?

  Heather Ordover: We were underway—wearing life vests that the ferrymen kept saying we didn’t need. That may have been the funniest thing I heard all day. Try telling someone who is fleeing a crumbling building that they don’t need a life vest—what, like we’re having a good-luck day?

  Bert Szostak, equity broker, 100 Wall Street: A blue New York Waterway ferryboat was there, about half full, and we got on, not caring where it would take us. There were three passengers aboard of Arab descent who had backpacks, and people—average people, not police officers—demanded to know what was in them. The guys looked scared and opened their backpacks. Inside were just books.

  Capt. James Parese, Staten Island Ferry: There was dust all over the boat. People were crying, people were covered with dust, and some people had no shoes. We had at least 6,000 people on the boat.

  Lt. Michael Day: We had hundreds of people waiting to get over here and we had a captain—he said, “I don’t have a crew.” The ferry had 350 people on it. He said, “I need some help.” There were some New Jersey state troopers, and I said, “Hey, would you mind helping this guy?” They said, “No problem, whatever we can do.” I was like, I hope nothing happens to this ferry. I broke more rules that day than probably I’ve enforced in my whole Coast Guard career.

  Paul Amico, dock builder, Amico Ironworks: If we had injured people on board—mostly firemen—we immediately released the ladder and sent that boat back to Jersey.

  Lt. Joseph Torrillo: The boat skipped across the Hudson River, and I could hear a lot of commotion, people yelling on the deck to people on the shore of Jersey City. There were ambulances waiting there.

  Joseph Lott, scheduled to attend the Risk Waters conference, had escaped the building after going to change his shirt to wear his new tie. He evacuated south toward Battery Park, where he ended up on one of the escaping boats.

  Joseph Lott, sales representative, Compaq Computers: We sat on the ferry for maybe four or five minutes and then all of a sudden the ferry took off. Within two minutes, we were in bright sunshine. Beautiful day, Statue of Liberty was in front of us, the water was lapping against the ferry. I looked around, the ferry was completely packed: there were some injured people, most of us were covered in soot and ash and dust. We were all sitting there, and all I could think about was how much burnt asbestos was in my mouth at that point—it was very gritty. I said, “I’ve got to have something to drink.” I went up to the little snack bar on the ferry, and there was nobody there. Inside were all these beers, sitting on ice. I grabbed a handful of beers, and I walked back to my colleagues, and I said, “Look what I found! Does anybody have an opener?” And so somebody produced an opener, and said, “I’ll open if you give me one of those!” We all sat down, and we drank this beer, and I can’t remember a beer that ever tasted that good.

  Frank Razzano, guest, Marriott Hotel: As we were going across the river, I was looking back at the city, expecting to see the World Trade Center—expecting to see a tower with the top off. They weren’t there. I said to the guy driving the boat, “Where is the World Trade Center?” He said, “Buddy, they’re gone.” I said, “Look, I was there when the tops of the buildings came down, but where’s the rest of the building?” He said, “Buddy, it wasn’t the tops of the buildings. They collapsed down to the foundations.”

  Michelle Goldman, labor attorney, One Battery Park Plaza: As we got off the boat in Jersey City, rescue workers formed a pathway for us. They helped people who had trouble walking. They gave us bottled water, food, and towels. It almost felt like reaching a finish line.

  * * *

  Across New York City, everyone seemed dazed in the wake of the collapses. Officials struggled to discover who had survived. Those who had been injured sought treatment amid the chaos.

  Dan Nigro, chief of operations, FDNY: As you got back to the scene and saw what was left of it, it looked like war.

  Monsignor John Delendick, chaplain, FDNY: Dan Nigro came walking down Chambers Street. He said, “Who’s in charge? Do we know who’s in charge?” I said, “Chief, I don’t know. I think you are.”

  Dan Nigro: I was told the command center was now at Barclay and Broadway, at the tip of City Hall Park, and Deputy Chief [Tom] Haring from Division 6 was in charge. I felt that if that was the case, that meant everyone else had been killed—every other ranking member of the department.

  Monsignor John Delendick: A lot of stuff at that moment was a blur. People started combing through the stuff, trying to find people.

  Dan Nigro: I wanted to get back to the fire command post and see if the people I left at West Street survived. On the way there, I ran into someone I knew and he said, “Dan, Pete’s gone. Pete’s gone.”

  Sharon Miller, officer, PAPD: My husband had started driving home to New York from Florida. His daughter somehow got through to him, and said, “Dad, I saw Sharon. She’s out of the building, she’s all right. She’s with two other officers.” While we were running up West Street, she had seen me on TV. He didn’t really believe her. Then another of his friends called him: “Ray, Sharon’s fine. I saw her on TV. Ray, I have a 50-inch TV. I saw her.” He was at a rest area. He sat down and he lit a cigar. Then he drove the rest of the way home.

  Al Kim, vice president of operations, TransCare Ambulance: I started to see clean shirts. That was a big deal. The cavalry had arrived, if you will. I rem
ember seeing people I knew with no dust, no burns—they were normal. It was a welcoming sight.

  Richard Grasso, chairman and CEO, New York Stock Exchange: My colleague Howard turned to me with the phone in his hand and said, “It’s the mayor.” I took the phone, and he said to me, “How you doing?” I was numb—my only thought was to repeat his question and I said, “How you doing?” It sounded like the Budweiser commercial. “No, how you doing?” I finally said, “How am I doing? You’re supposed to be dead.” He said, “I’m not dead, I’m fine.”

  Det. David Brink, Emergency Service Unit, Truck 3, NYPD: We were walking up and we saw a church, St. Paul’s. One of the doors was open so we all piled up inside, the five of us. I hid in the front by the altar and started praying. I fell to my knees and said, “Thank you, God, for letting me survive this,” and I said, “Please give me the strength to go on and help other people that are there.” I said, “I know we lost a lot of guys in there. God, please watch over them.”

  My eyes were crusted through with pieces of glass and dust and debris. I couldn’t see. I found the holy water there—I was looking for any water—so I scooped my hands in the holy water. I was washing off my eyes, and my face was wet.

  I needed something to wipe my face off with. My uniform was covered from head to toe in the dust. I went in by where the altar is, and they had the vestments and the other little cloths that were used for the rituals and ceremonies of the Catholic Church. I found the little one—it was a little white cloth that they would put over the chalice when they were doing the wine ceremony—and it had a little red cross stitched into it.