TERROR IN THE TOWERS
This July 4th it is time to think of the many sacrifices of those who came before us in order that we may live in peace and freedom. My gratitude is especially with our troops who battle our enemies overseas, that we may not have to battle them here. I also think of the many brave men and women on the homefront who protect us daily as police and firemen and EMS crews. May we especially never forget those brave people who on September 11, 2001, rushed into a mangled skyscraper to save the lives of those they did not even know. The main text of the following eyewitness account appeared last year in both The Observer and the Kearny Journal
"Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for though art with me" Psalm 23
This July 4th brings to mind for me the attack on the World Trade Center and I pause to think back on that fateful day. I am a Port Authority employee and at the time and had been working in the building for about eight years. I've lived in Kearny all my life and as an adolescent I watched those towers rise back in the seventy's. Unfortunately I also saw them come down. To those of us who worked there they were more than just mere buildings, we felt very privileged to have been employed there. I could think of no better place to work at the time, and that was how I was feeling when I was at my desk on the 72nd floor at 8:47 A.M. on September 11, 2001. The following is a diary of my thoughts and memories of the horrific events of that day:
I am now a firm believer in the idea of fate. What will be will be; guided by the hand of God and unalterable by man. On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I made the fateful decision to arrive at work early, 8:30 A.M. as opposed to 9:00 A.M., at my office on the 72nd floor of One World Trade Center. It was a decision that put me at ground zero of the most horrific act of terrorism ever perpetrated on humanity. It was also a decision that in all probability saved my life. Had I headed to work at the usual hour, I very likely would have been caught in an elevator on my way upstairs, only to perish in the tumultuous crumbling of Tower One which I later saw and now have etched onto my wounded memory.
What had started as a beautiful day now had become a nightmare. At 8:47 A.M. my world was literally blown apart. When the first plane hit I thought it was an earthquake, it was that strong. We were up so high that on a normal day when I looked out the window all I saw was sky. To see the roofs of the other buildings you had to go right up to the window and look down. Now I was seeing those same rooftops but I was still at my desk. That is how much the building swayed. I thought we were going to topple over right then and there. But then everything went quiet. A thousand thoughts raced through my head as to what had just happened. My stomach was in my throat and I was nearly paralyzed with fear. It quickly became meaningless as to what happened, now my thoughts were to just get out of there. I heard my supervisor yell "come on, let's go!" and I snapped back to reality, one I did not want to be in.
The orderly conduct of the other Port Authority employees and the directions of the building managers were very reassuring. Unfortunately, many of those around me had been through this before back in 1993. We headed down the stairwell and a slightly light hearted attitude took over. Everyone was very helpful to each other, those who seemed to be taking it worse then others were comforted and pushed ahead. We even had a blind woman in our midst. I was quite surprised by the lack of smoke and how well the emergency lighting worked. I guess the lesson from the last bombing was learned well. Our progress was rather slow, though considering our situation, anything less than an all out sprint seemed slow. Many times we had to make room for the wounded being helped down. I saw some people who were severely burned. We also had to stop often to make room for the firefighters to get past us on their way up. That is something that will always haunt me. As I was fleeing this building in terror, these brave men were headed into the heart of it. I remember how young they looked, mostly in their twenties, but with a smattering of older fellows who I assumed were the supervisors. I thought of their wives and children who were watching this unfold on the news. I now know that most of the police and firefighters I saw that day was their last. Enough can never be said of their heroism. Just the sight of them being so professional was very comforting. God bless them all.
When we got to the skylobby on the 44th floor I exited the stairwell to take a small break and look out the window. It was at that moment that the other plane hit Building Two. The explosion was so severe that it shook our building again quite aggressively and I saw flames shoot past. The light hearted mood quickly dissipated. Now all I wanted was to be out of that building. At one point I started counting the floors. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen and so on. It gave me hope to track my progress. Once through the teens I knew I was home free. But the adventure in horror wasn't over.
We exited the stairwell and were greeted by the sight of the plaza. Days earlier I had been on a coffee break here with my friend and told her how lucky we were to work in such an idyllic setting. What I saw now was almost unrecognizable. It truly looked like a war zone. Many people, men and women, turned away in tears. Charred bodies and smoldering debris lay everywhere. I followed the directions of the police and guards through the mall under the plaza. I later learned one of the guards, a young man with four children probably not making much more than minimum wage didn't make it. He was such a nice fellow. Again, God bless you.
Once on the street many people froze at the sight of those magnificent towers now crippled with flames licking at their sides and black gaping holes. I then made another fateful decision. I got the heck out of there. Many people just milled about but I could sense that considerable damage had been done. The engineers who designed those buildings deserve credit. That they remained standing for so long saved many lives. The death toll could have been much higher. But getting out was not enough; you now had to get away. I had made about two blocks when Tower Two fell. I will never forget looking down a canyon like street in lower Manhattan and seeing a wall of smoke and debris heading towards me with people screaming and running. It was like being in a real horror movie. I ran as fast as I could but the cloud caught up to me. I was dazed and walked uptown with the other survivors. Like I said, fate is the work of God, and his guiding hand was definitely on my shoulder on September 11, 2001.
By James J. Calautti
I dedicate this story to a security guard I knew only as "Waldo". He was a pleasant young man working as a private security guard at One World Trade Center. He probably made no more that ten dollars an hour yet stayed at his post guiding people safely from the building. He left behind a wife and four children. God Bless You Waldo.
"Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for though art with me" Psalm 23
This July 4th brings to mind for me the attack on the World Trade Center and I pause to think back on that fateful day. I am a Port Authority employee and at the time and had been working in the building for about eight years. I've lived in Kearny all my life and as an adolescent I watched those towers rise back in the seventy's. Unfortunately I also saw them come down. To those of us who worked there they were more than just mere buildings, we felt very privileged to have been employed there. I could think of no better place to work at the time, and that was how I was feeling when I was at my desk on the 72nd floor at 8:47 A.M. on September 11, 2001. The following is a diary of my thoughts and memories of the horrific events of that day:
I am now a firm believer in the idea of fate. What will be will be; guided by the hand of God and unalterable by man. On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I made the fateful decision to arrive at work early, 8:30 A.M. as opposed to 9:00 A.M., at my office on the 72nd floor of One World Trade Center. It was a decision that put me at ground zero of the most horrific act of terrorism ever perpetrated on humanity. It was also a decision that in all probability saved my life. Had I headed to work at the usual hour, I very likely would have been caught in an elevator on my way upstairs, only to perish in the tumultuous crumbling of Tower One which I later saw and now have etched onto my wounded memory.
What had started as a beautiful day now had become a nightmare. At 8:47 A.M. my world was literally blown apart. When the first plane hit I thought it was an earthquake, it was that strong. We were up so high that on a normal day when I looked out the window all I saw was sky. To see the roofs of the other buildings you had to go right up to the window and look down. Now I was seeing those same rooftops but I was still at my desk. That is how much the building swayed. I thought we were going to topple over right then and there. But then everything went quiet. A thousand thoughts raced through my head as to what had just happened. My stomach was in my throat and I was nearly paralyzed with fear. It quickly became meaningless as to what happened, now my thoughts were to just get out of there. I heard my supervisor yell "come on, let's go!" and I snapped back to reality, one I did not want to be in.
The orderly conduct of the other Port Authority employees and the directions of the building managers were very reassuring. Unfortunately, many of those around me had been through this before back in 1993. We headed down the stairwell and a slightly light hearted attitude took over. Everyone was very helpful to each other, those who seemed to be taking it worse then others were comforted and pushed ahead. We even had a blind woman in our midst. I was quite surprised by the lack of smoke and how well the emergency lighting worked. I guess the lesson from the last bombing was learned well. Our progress was rather slow, though considering our situation, anything less than an all out sprint seemed slow. Many times we had to make room for the wounded being helped down. I saw some people who were severely burned. We also had to stop often to make room for the firefighters to get past us on their way up. That is something that will always haunt me. As I was fleeing this building in terror, these brave men were headed into the heart of it. I remember how young they looked, mostly in their twenties, but with a smattering of older fellows who I assumed were the supervisors. I thought of their wives and children who were watching this unfold on the news. I now know that most of the police and firefighters I saw that day was their last. Enough can never be said of their heroism. Just the sight of them being so professional was very comforting. God bless them all.
When we got to the skylobby on the 44th floor I exited the stairwell to take a small break and look out the window. It was at that moment that the other plane hit Building Two. The explosion was so severe that it shook our building again quite aggressively and I saw flames shoot past. The light hearted mood quickly dissipated. Now all I wanted was to be out of that building. At one point I started counting the floors. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen and so on. It gave me hope to track my progress. Once through the teens I knew I was home free. But the adventure in horror wasn't over.
We exited the stairwell and were greeted by the sight of the plaza. Days earlier I had been on a coffee break here with my friend and told her how lucky we were to work in such an idyllic setting. What I saw now was almost unrecognizable. It truly looked like a war zone. Many people, men and women, turned away in tears. Charred bodies and smoldering debris lay everywhere. I followed the directions of the police and guards through the mall under the plaza. I later learned one of the guards, a young man with four children probably not making much more than minimum wage didn't make it. He was such a nice fellow. Again, God bless you.
Once on the street many people froze at the sight of those magnificent towers now crippled with flames licking at their sides and black gaping holes. I then made another fateful decision. I got the heck out of there. Many people just milled about but I could sense that considerable damage had been done. The engineers who designed those buildings deserve credit. That they remained standing for so long saved many lives. The death toll could have been much higher. But getting out was not enough; you now had to get away. I had made about two blocks when Tower Two fell. I will never forget looking down a canyon like street in lower Manhattan and seeing a wall of smoke and debris heading towards me with people screaming and running. It was like being in a real horror movie. I ran as fast as I could but the cloud caught up to me. I was dazed and walked uptown with the other survivors. Like I said, fate is the work of God, and his guiding hand was definitely on my shoulder on September 11, 2001.
By James J. Calautti
I dedicate this story to a security guard I knew only as "Waldo". He was a pleasant young man working as a private security guard at One World Trade Center. He probably made no more that ten dollars an hour yet stayed at his post guiding people safely from the building. He left behind a wife and four children. God Bless You Waldo.
posted by James at 7:15 PM
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