Lt. Gen. Tom Keck: As the president headed up the stairs, I said to him, “These troops are trained, ready, and they’ll do whatever you want them to.” He said to me, “I know.” We traded salutes. He was on the ground an hour and 53 minutes.
Ellen Eckert: Ari told me I was off the plane. The press were not happy, but I was fine—I was thinking, I’m safe here in Louisiana. The plane fired up—it was loud, we were all standing nearby—and Gordon came to the back stairs and yelled, “Ellen, Ari says get on the plane! He’s changed his mind!” That’s not what I want to do. Then I thought, I should be ashamed of myself. Everyone else is getting on that plane. I was the last one on board.
Sonya Ross: As we left, they didn’t know how long we’d be gone. They told us that they’d arrange accommodations if we had to be gone a day or two. I told my bureau chief, “I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Have you heard from my dad?”
* * *
Midday in New York City
Families and friends across the country tried to find out if their loved ones were among the day’s victims; tens of thousands in New York were imagined missing, maybe presumed dead. Amid the morning’s tragedy, three sisters tried to discover whether their dad, who worked at Windows on the World, was among those lost.
Joann Gomez, eighth grade, Junior High School 56: We were in class, and we heard this big explosion—our whole school shook.
Melissa Gomez, fourth grade, New York City: My principal had mentioned in the announcements the Twin Towers, that a plane hit.
Joann Gomez: My father, Jose Bienvenido Gomez, and my uncle, Enrique Gomez, were born in the Dominican Republic, Santiago. They came to the U.S. in the early 1980s and started working in the World Trade Center in 2000.
Joanna Gomez: Our dad was very excited to work at the World Trade Center. I remember when he told us—from our apartment, you were able to see the Twin Towers, so he would show us from our window, like, “Look! That’s where I’m going to work!” He was a prep cook, so he was the one in charge of cutting the vegetables and the shrimps and so on. It was actually four brothers who worked there. Two of my other uncles also worked there—one was injured on 9/11 and the other one was in the Dominican Republic, so he wasn’t there that day.
Joanna Gomez: I was only 13, so I only thought of the World Trade Center as the Twin Towers—not the World Trade Center. I asked my classmate if the World Trade Center is where the Twin Towers are. He was like, “Yeah, that’s where it is.” I started crying. Then they asked everyone to go to their homeroom class, and I met with my sister in the hallway.
Melissa Gomez: Then parents started coming.
Joanna Gomez: We were sent to the office, and we called our house, and they said that my cousin was going to pick us up from school. From school, we see the [South Tower] fall. I remember my cousin told me, “Don’t worry. The tower where your father works is the one that has the big antennae and it’s still up. There’s still a chance. They’ll get him through a helicopter or something.”
Melissa Gomez: I was nine or 10 years old. I got home and I see everybody’s crying, but I was confused. I don’t know what’s happened, because I don’t know my father [worked in the Twin Towers]—I knew he used to work somewhere, but I didn’t know it was there, specifically. I was still innocent.
Joanna Gomez: We were making calls and we were making pictures with signs, the age, the name. My mom didn’t speak any English, so me and my sister had to go to the hospitals, talk to FBI agents. We had to do everything.
* * *
In Lower Manhattan, some of those caught in the collapse made their way out of the destruction, emerging from the clouds as dust-covered ghosts, fleeing across the Brooklyn Bridge on foot or making their way uptown into a New York City reeling from the disaster. Everyone was in a state of shock, desperate to tell their waiting families that they were alive. Strangers stepped up to aid the refugees as best they could.
David Kravette, bond broker, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower, 105th floor: I was walking, and I said, “I need to borrow a phone.” I used this guy’s phone. I talked to my wife a couple of seconds, and I lost the connection. The guy saw I was upset. He gives me a hug—a stranger. It’s funny. This stranger gives me a hug and goes, “You’ll be okay,” and walks on. That was it.
Richard Eichen, consultant, Pass Consulting Group, North Tower, 90th floor: I walked out of the hospital. I met this woman, Pansy, who was walking out as well. We shared a Snapple. There was a guy at the hospital entrance, a security guard, saying, “Don’t go out.” I said, “No, I want to leave.” He said, “All right, if you’re going then—here,” and he gave me a surgical mask. We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, Pansy and I—she lived in Brooklyn, and my parents live in Queens. As I was walking across the bridge, I could feel the sun on my face. I remember taking the mask off, and it felt good to have the sun on my face. It’s like, All right, it’s over.
Somi Roy, resident, Lower Manhattan: It was like the scene from The Ten Commandants, with Charlton Heston leading people across the Sinai Desert. There was a stream of people walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Endless. Downstairs was another stream of people, all covered in dust, all with briefcases half-open, women with no shoes. They had to shut the FDR Drive, so it was eerily empty. The sound was different. Usually we have this constant roar in the background, of traffic.
Howard Lutnick, CEO, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower: We kept walking and wiping our faces and cleaning our mouths and our eyes. In the middle of the street. There were no cars. It was so strange, like the end of the world.
Betsy Gotbaum, candidate for New York City public advocate: People in our building were in shock, total shock. People didn’t know what to do. We invited the elevator men in to come and watch because they didn’t have a television.
David Kravette: I walked uptown to Howard Lutnick’s apartment and we started meeting there, the few survivors. Howard Lutnick came up. He was covered in soot because he was down there when it collapsed. We started calling some of the spouses, and none of them had heard from their husbands or wives.
Jillian Volk, preschool teacher, Lower Manhattan: I thought my fiancé, Kevin, was out of the Trade Center. I truly thought he was going to walk into the school and get me. I waited at the school until maybe 10:30 or so. Most of the kids had gone by then, so I started walking north. I didn’t know where to go.
Richard Eichen: This guy, Gary, was picking up his niece from Brooklyn Law School. He said, “Do you want a ride to your parents? Where do they live?” I said, “The Rockaways.” I said, “I’m filthy.” He goes, “Don’t worry about it.” He gave me a ride. We stopped off at his house to give me a drink of water, and they asked me, “Do you want to take a shower?” I said, “No, I really want to go to my parents’ house.” Then he drove me to Rockaway. My father had put out a flag in front of the house. I went inside and my sister said, “You want to take a shower?” I said, “Yeah.”
Betsy Gotbaum: At one point, I went outside. It was a beautiful day, and I was terribly upset. We live right next to the park. It was completely silent. You couldn’t hear anything. It was so eerie. I’ve never experienced anything like that in New York City in my entire life. The silence.
* * *
Even as people fled Lower Manhattan, thousands more firefighters, police, EMTs, paramedics, and first responders flooded in to what would become known as Ground Zero, both in hopes of rescuing survivors and also to take stock of the massive losses their own departments and colleagues had suffered in the collapses. Given the tight-knit, multigeneration traditions of the NYPD and FDNY, many of those responding had brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, or other relatives who had perished. They all confronted an apocalyptic landscape, full of fire, debris, and death.
Joe Finley, firefighter, Ladder 7, FDNY: I got in the car and drove in. The police had every entrance and exit closed. The only way you could get on the expressway was
with your badge and your ID. There were hundreds of cars filled with cops and firemen streaming into the city.
Capt. Joe Downey, Squad Company 18, FDNY: I couldn’t believe that the tower had fallen. I thought they were making a mistake. Until I got to the scene, I still couldn’t understand that they all came down. I went to my dad’s firehouse, Special Operations, on Roosevelt Island. We started regrouping there, and when a bunch of us got together, we came into Manhattan.
Paul McFadden, firefighter, Rescue 2, FDNY: They were saying tens of thousands of people were dead. It sounded like the whole New York City Fire Department had been killed.
Capt. Joe Downey: When I got to the firehouse, obviously, my first question was “Have you heard from my dad?” That was the first bad feeling I got—nobody had talked to him.
Joe Finley: At a rally point in Cunningham Park, Queens, hundreds of firemen waited for city buses to come in and pick them up. Nobody was saying anything to each other. We all looked out the window at the skyline of New York City, and the huge plume of smoke going miles up in the air.
Paul McFadden: There were cops on every corner, and you had to show your badge and then they waved you through. When I was in Rescue 2 earlier, Ray Downey had been the captain and now, on 9/11, he was the chief of all special operations, so I knew he’d be at the Towers. On our way there that day, I was saying, “Listen, when we get there we’ll go right to the command post; we’ll check in with Ray. He’s going to be happy to see us and give us a job or an area or what have you to search.”
Lt. Chuck Downey, FDNY: It was white all over the place. Dust almost looked like some type of snowstorm.
Jeff Johnson, firefighter, Engine 74, FDNY: The streets were six inches to a foot thick of this white-gray talcum powder–type of dust, and any time a fire truck or anything went by, it became impossible to breathe.
Joe Finley: We couldn’t even hear our own footsteps. Nobody was talking. There was no sound, no cars. Downtown Manhattan in the middle of the day, and it was absolutely silent.
Capt. Joe Downey: I walked down West Street and the first gentleman I ran into was Chief Frank Carruthers. He was my dad’s boss. I asked him, “Have you seen my father?” He put his head down and walked away. That’s when I knew that he probably was gone.
Paul McFadden: When we got down to the World Trade Center site, the first two people I saw were Ray’s two sons, Joe and Chuck. I went right up to them—because I thought this was a real good thing—and I said, “Joey, Chuckie, where’s the command post? Where’s your dad?” Joey looked at me and he said, “We’re on our way home to my mother. My father’s under the rubble.” That was like getting kicked in the head by a horse. It was the last thing I expected to hear—that Ray was dead. That set the stage for the night.
Jeff Johnson: At the time, Building Seven was fully involved with fire. There was nobody trying to put that fire out. We were busy doing other things, obviously. It was pretty surreal to see that building on fire.
James Luongo, inspector, NYPD: At one point, there had to be 200 construction workers walking down West Street. I said, “Who’s in charge?” They said, “Nobody’s in charge. We’re here to help.” I’ll never forget those men—big burly guys, coming down. So much of that day, so much of that day was just New Yorkers. People who can help people. A lot of credit goes to the fire department. A lot of credit goes to the police department and emergency response people. But that’s what we get paid for. The amount of New Yorkers—just everyday New Yorkers—who stepped up to the plate that day was incredible.
* * *
Both Dan and Jean Potter emerged safely from the collapse of the World Trade Center, but with no sense of how to reunite with each other. Jean didn’t know her firefighter husband was searching frantically for her.
Dan Potter, firefighter, Ladder 10, FDNY: There was fire in all the buildings around the Trade Center. All the paper that had come out of the Towers had carpeted nearby fire escapes. That paper and the fire escapes were all in flames, all the way down Greenwich. Fire all around us, cars on fire on the street—it’s like a movie set. I said, “I’ve got to go find my wife.”
Jean Potter, Bank of America, North Tower: This lovely gentleman asked me if I needed help. I said, “Do you have water and a phone?” I was in such a state. He invited me into his house—they had a brownstone in Chinatown—and I was in this fearful state. I said, “No, can I stay outside, please?” He brought a chair out and gave me a phone.
Dan Potter: I don’t recall seeing any civilians. I do remember all the ambulances turned over, Ladder 113 burning. I walked past them quickly. I was focused on trying to find her, but there was nobody.
Jean Potter: All the while I was thinking Dan was studying in school, studying for the lieutenant’s test. I was thinking, He’s in Staten Island. He’s not home. He’s not working. He’s away, thank God.
Dan Potter: My first plan is, “Okay, she’ll be home. Then we’ll worry about the next step.” You try to put off the inevitable thought. I walked home, and I remember getting a bottle of water out of one of the juice places. The door was open, and no one was in there. I still owe the guy a dollar.
Jean Potter: In an emergency, Dan had always told me, go to a firehouse. I said, “I need to get to a firehouse.” The guy helping me took me to the Chinatown firehouse.
Dan Potter: I walked to the apartment on Rector Place. The doorman, Arturo, was there. He said, “Can I help you, sir?” I said, “It’s me—Dan.” He didn’t even recognize me at first. He said, “Are we safe here, fireman?” I said, “It’s me, Dan—I live here. I’m looking for Jean. Did Jean come home?” He goes, “No, I haven’t seen her.” I said, “Okay.” There were people in the lobby of our building. They thought I was a fireman coming to help them. Then they realized who I was. They were used to seeing me in slacks and penny loafers, never in gear covered in gray matter.
Jean Potter: This couple passed by the firehouse. She said, “My phone will work.” I managed to call my mom. My mom heard my voice, and she started to cry. I said “I’m OK.” I said, “Dan’s at school, so Dan’s OK, so call June”—my mother-in-law—“and tell her that he’s OK.” I told her that because in my head, I still think he’s in Staten Island taking the practice test.
Dan Potter: I went across the street, and that’s when I sat on the bench. I had to collect my thoughts. What am I going to do now? I was sitting on the bench, getting a little upset. The guy clicked the picture. I told him, “It’s not the time.”
Matt Moyer, photographer: As I neared the marina I saw a solitary firefighter sitting on a bench. It was a quiet scene amid a very chaotic situation. His body language spoke of deep loss. When he finally heard the click of my shutter he lifted his head, looked toward me, raised his hand and slowly shook his head indicating, no more photos. I took my camera from my eye and before I could speak he said, “I just lost my wife.” His voice was full of heartache. All I could muster was “I’m so so sorry.” He lowered his head and continued sitting on the bench.
Jean Potter: I felt I had to make myself useful, so I started answering the phone. Can you imagine? This woman covered in dust—I was in a state of shock. I said, “Give me the phone. I’ll answer.” Calls were starting to come in: “I’m so-and-so’s dad, I’m so-and-so’s wife.” Then a few guys came in and told me, “OK, let’s go in the back. We need to go back and relax.”
Dan Potter: I went back inside the lobby. I said, “All my stuff is back in Ladder 10’s compartments. I don’t have keys to my apartment.” I started to force my door to get inside the apartment. The door finally opened up, and the phone was ringing. The first call was one of Jean’s aunts. I said, “Listen, I can’t talk. I’ve got to go look for Jean.” I hung up, and the next call was my dad. He’s crying. He’s very upset. I said, “Dad, I’m okay, but I can’t find Jean.” He goes, “I know where she is.” I’m like, “Where is she?” He answered, “She’s at the Chinatown firehouse.” I said, “Oh my God. Thank you.” I hang up the
phone. I don’t remember hitting any of the steps going down nine floors. I went back to the street and down and out. My truck is all covered in gray dust. I drove up through South Street and up to the Chinatown firehouse on Canal Street.
Jean Potter: I was sitting in the house, watching it on television.
Dan Potter: I walked into the firehouse and said, “You got a redhead in here somewhere?” Another firefighter, a real kid in the company, said, “Yeah, she’s in the back room.” I walked in, and that’s when she saw me.
Jean Potter: He was in this bunker gear and coat. His eyes were blood red from the debris and the dust. I never thought he was down there. I expected him to pick me up in street clothes. Here he is, picking me up totally, totally covered, with blood-red eyes.
Dan Potter: We hugged. She’s all covered in gray dust. We hugged and kissed. I said, “Okay, let’s get you out of here. Where do you want to go?” She was very upset, shaking, and she said, “Let’s go to my mom’s house.” It’s an hour ride into Pennsylvania.
Jean Potter: Our life was like scrambled eggs. We were so grateful our lives were spared, but everything we knew that day changed. We were spared, but everything changed.
* * *
Herb Ouida, World Trade Centers Association, North Tower, and father of Todd Ouida, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower, 105th floor: I remember being on the street on Broadway, and people saying there’s no more World Trade Center. I said, “What does that mean?” They said, “The buildings are gone.” I absolutely could not believe it. When I got to my daughter’s apartment I saw on the TV that the buildings had in fact collapsed like pancakes. I kept thinking: Todd was on the 105th. What stays with me and what will be with me until I die is the question: What was it like for Todd? Did he know it was the end? Was he awake?
Adrian Pierce, Wachovia Bank, North Tower: I went in the ladies’ room of a nearby building. Everything was stuck to me. I rinsed my hair off, I rinsed my blouse off, and as I was coming out of the bathroom, there were two plastic bags. I wrapped one around my foot and I wrapped one around my head. Outside, two white guys were sitting on a bench, they had a traveling case, and I asked them: “Do you have a shirt I can put on?” One gave me the shirt off his back. I took my shirt off and I put his shirt on, and I wrapped my shirt around my foot. I was walking, and I was crying. I found myself walking over the bridge.
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