story7604.xml
Title
story7604.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-16
911DA Story: Story
It was a beautiful, hectic morning as I had taken the day off and was dropping my two-year old daughter, Kayla, off at school so that I could begin my day of errands. When I arrived at Kayla's school, it seemed like a normal Tuesday with teachers scurrying about and assisting those parents running late for work. As I made my way to the administrator's office to drop off paperwork, I heard someone state that a plane had lost control and hit one of the World Trade Centers. My immediate response was to pray, and I attributed the incident to a malfunction with the plane, but little did I know.
As I left my daughter at her school, I got in my car, turned on the radio, and began to make my way through the city to my bank in Crystal City ? one of the first errands on my list. While listening intensely to the radio to find out more about this incident, traffic did not seem to bother me. As I approached the 14th Street Bridge, I saw a huge ball of smoke hovering above the Pentagon. I don't recall hearing a plane or seeing one, but the tragedy must have just happened since the enormous, black ball of noxious fumes and smoke was only a few feet above the Pentagon and rising. I wondered what was going on in DC. Bewildered, I continue to listen to the radio and asking aloud: ?What?s going on in DC?? Yet, nothing was mentioned. I passed by the horrific sight and made my way to the bank ? more or less on autopilot. When I reached the teller, I asked if she knew what was going on at the Pentagon and informed her of the sight that I had seen. The bank employee only knew that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. She then stated that a loud noise was heard but she was not sure of its origin. All the teller knew was that she was ready to leave due to the pensive state of all around her. For some odd reason I thought that I would get a better handle on the events from my bank since it is a Naval institution. Unfortunately, I believe I had a better grasp of what was going on than they did, which didn?t say much since I was still baffled.
As I left the bank, I rushed to my car and turned on the radio to learn of any events that I may have missed, and to see if any news had broken regarding the Pentagon. By this time, another plane had hit the second World Trade Center, and shock was setting in on the East Coast. All sorts of rumors were being announced on the radio: A plane was heading for DC; a plane had hit the White House; a plane had hit the Capitol. I didn't know what to believe. My thought was that it wasn't any of those places announced on the radio. It was the Pentagon!!! Or were the White House and the Capitol hit as well? WE ARE AT WAR, I thought. My mind immediately went to my daughter who was at school. I needed to get to her. We are under attack, and I have to protect her.
Now in my car leaving my bank in Crystal City, there is traffic ? bumper-to-bumper traffic. I am now in a controlled state of panic. ?Keep calm,? is what I tell myself. I need to reach my daughter. As I continue to listen to the radio, traffic inches along. It seems as though I am watching a movie about ?D Day? or some other destructive scene. People seem to be moving in slow motion. I realize that everyone seems to be listening to the same thing that I am listening to: America being attacked!!! All of a sudden traffic seemed to be at a standstill. Everyone had a look of disbelief on his or her face. Then, the radio announced that one of the World Trade Centers had collapsed and was no more. Tears started to flow. "What can I do? Where can I go?" were the thoughts that started to flood my mind. As I looked at all of the cars standing still, no one seemed to say a thing. No one blew a horn, no one moved. Tears were streaming from all of the faces in the cars that surrounded me. A devastating vision now engulfed my mind.
Traffic is at a complete halt as I have now made my way around the block and in front of the Pentagon City Mall. Will I ever reach my daughter? As traffic creeps along, I begin to notice the herd of the people crossing the field and parkway in a concerted effort to escape the smoke and debris of the Pentagon. Some are walking as others run, but all have a look of terror on their faces. I am speechless and thoughtless witnessing this exodus as they gather with those who are leaving the surrounding buildings. All seem unsure of what to do next.
As I sit in traffic, I begin to plot my course back across the bridge to my daughter. My journey started at 8:15 AM with dropping my daughter at school. It is now 9:45 AM, and I am stuck; we are under attack; and I have not a clue what will happen next. It seems as though I sit in traffic listening to everything going on in NYC but no one knows the horror that Washington, DC and the Pentagon are facing. The radio is still broadcasting that the plane hit the Capitol and the White House. No one knows that those within the Pentagon are under attack.
Minutes turn into hours of sitting and inching along. Police have closed off all bridges leading into DC. How will I ever get to my daughter, continuously plays in my mind as I meditate on what to do. Finally, there is a break in traffic and I am able to make a U-turn, but a roadblock prevents me from going back across the 14th Street Bridge. All traffic is being detoured onto Route One, which takes me farther away from where I need to go. As I drive along Route One, I desperately look for a place to make a U-turn, but all of the turn lanes are blocked. As I pass Washington National Airport, it is eerily empty due to everyone being evacuated. Since there was no place for the group of displaced people to go, everyone hurried across the airport parking lot, across the parkway as far away as they could go. Finally, the crowd of hundreds rest along the parkway on the grassy hillsides in a state of disbelief. As I continue down Route One in my pensive mode, I pass a car that is stuck on the median in its attempt to make a u-turn, and I begin to cry and pray: "Lord, help me to get to my child!!!" I continue further down Route One and see an opportunity to make a U-turn. I take it. I speed back towards 14th Street Bridge praying that the police have not blocked the exit ramp onto the bridge. The closer I get to the bridge I notice that the ramp is not blocked. I take the ramp and race across the bridge with the absence of any traffic as I thank God for the "way out."
Finally, I make my way back to the school, and my stress level decreases somewhat. The school staff seemed to be in a state of disbelief. There is an atmosphere of stress and the teachers are trying their best to keep a smile on their faces as to not raise fright in the children. Yet I notice the tension, stress, anxiety, and fear present in the faces of all the parents as they arrive to gather their children. I know they are wondering the same thing as I: How do we explain this horrific chain of events to our children? Do we keep it from them? What do we say if they ask? Are we truly at war? What will be the next target? I pray they don?t ask, and I won?t tell. The teachers have done an excellent job shielding the little ones from these events, and maybe I could make it home without Kayla asking any questions. My repetitive silent prayer: ?Lord, help us!? continues to ring within my head as I journey through the rest of this day wondering what will happen next and what destruction awaits me when I turn on the television.
Renee M. Witcher
Ft. Washington, MD
As I left my daughter at her school, I got in my car, turned on the radio, and began to make my way through the city to my bank in Crystal City ? one of the first errands on my list. While listening intensely to the radio to find out more about this incident, traffic did not seem to bother me. As I approached the 14th Street Bridge, I saw a huge ball of smoke hovering above the Pentagon. I don't recall hearing a plane or seeing one, but the tragedy must have just happened since the enormous, black ball of noxious fumes and smoke was only a few feet above the Pentagon and rising. I wondered what was going on in DC. Bewildered, I continue to listen to the radio and asking aloud: ?What?s going on in DC?? Yet, nothing was mentioned. I passed by the horrific sight and made my way to the bank ? more or less on autopilot. When I reached the teller, I asked if she knew what was going on at the Pentagon and informed her of the sight that I had seen. The bank employee only knew that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. She then stated that a loud noise was heard but she was not sure of its origin. All the teller knew was that she was ready to leave due to the pensive state of all around her. For some odd reason I thought that I would get a better handle on the events from my bank since it is a Naval institution. Unfortunately, I believe I had a better grasp of what was going on than they did, which didn?t say much since I was still baffled.
As I left the bank, I rushed to my car and turned on the radio to learn of any events that I may have missed, and to see if any news had broken regarding the Pentagon. By this time, another plane had hit the second World Trade Center, and shock was setting in on the East Coast. All sorts of rumors were being announced on the radio: A plane was heading for DC; a plane had hit the White House; a plane had hit the Capitol. I didn't know what to believe. My thought was that it wasn't any of those places announced on the radio. It was the Pentagon!!! Or were the White House and the Capitol hit as well? WE ARE AT WAR, I thought. My mind immediately went to my daughter who was at school. I needed to get to her. We are under attack, and I have to protect her.
Now in my car leaving my bank in Crystal City, there is traffic ? bumper-to-bumper traffic. I am now in a controlled state of panic. ?Keep calm,? is what I tell myself. I need to reach my daughter. As I continue to listen to the radio, traffic inches along. It seems as though I am watching a movie about ?D Day? or some other destructive scene. People seem to be moving in slow motion. I realize that everyone seems to be listening to the same thing that I am listening to: America being attacked!!! All of a sudden traffic seemed to be at a standstill. Everyone had a look of disbelief on his or her face. Then, the radio announced that one of the World Trade Centers had collapsed and was no more. Tears started to flow. "What can I do? Where can I go?" were the thoughts that started to flood my mind. As I looked at all of the cars standing still, no one seemed to say a thing. No one blew a horn, no one moved. Tears were streaming from all of the faces in the cars that surrounded me. A devastating vision now engulfed my mind.
Traffic is at a complete halt as I have now made my way around the block and in front of the Pentagon City Mall. Will I ever reach my daughter? As traffic creeps along, I begin to notice the herd of the people crossing the field and parkway in a concerted effort to escape the smoke and debris of the Pentagon. Some are walking as others run, but all have a look of terror on their faces. I am speechless and thoughtless witnessing this exodus as they gather with those who are leaving the surrounding buildings. All seem unsure of what to do next.
As I sit in traffic, I begin to plot my course back across the bridge to my daughter. My journey started at 8:15 AM with dropping my daughter at school. It is now 9:45 AM, and I am stuck; we are under attack; and I have not a clue what will happen next. It seems as though I sit in traffic listening to everything going on in NYC but no one knows the horror that Washington, DC and the Pentagon are facing. The radio is still broadcasting that the plane hit the Capitol and the White House. No one knows that those within the Pentagon are under attack.
Minutes turn into hours of sitting and inching along. Police have closed off all bridges leading into DC. How will I ever get to my daughter, continuously plays in my mind as I meditate on what to do. Finally, there is a break in traffic and I am able to make a U-turn, but a roadblock prevents me from going back across the 14th Street Bridge. All traffic is being detoured onto Route One, which takes me farther away from where I need to go. As I drive along Route One, I desperately look for a place to make a U-turn, but all of the turn lanes are blocked. As I pass Washington National Airport, it is eerily empty due to everyone being evacuated. Since there was no place for the group of displaced people to go, everyone hurried across the airport parking lot, across the parkway as far away as they could go. Finally, the crowd of hundreds rest along the parkway on the grassy hillsides in a state of disbelief. As I continue down Route One in my pensive mode, I pass a car that is stuck on the median in its attempt to make a u-turn, and I begin to cry and pray: "Lord, help me to get to my child!!!" I continue further down Route One and see an opportunity to make a U-turn. I take it. I speed back towards 14th Street Bridge praying that the police have not blocked the exit ramp onto the bridge. The closer I get to the bridge I notice that the ramp is not blocked. I take the ramp and race across the bridge with the absence of any traffic as I thank God for the "way out."
Finally, I make my way back to the school, and my stress level decreases somewhat. The school staff seemed to be in a state of disbelief. There is an atmosphere of stress and the teachers are trying their best to keep a smile on their faces as to not raise fright in the children. Yet I notice the tension, stress, anxiety, and fear present in the faces of all the parents as they arrive to gather their children. I know they are wondering the same thing as I: How do we explain this horrific chain of events to our children? Do we keep it from them? What do we say if they ask? Are we truly at war? What will be the next target? I pray they don?t ask, and I won?t tell. The teachers have done an excellent job shielding the little ones from these events, and maybe I could make it home without Kayla asking any questions. My repetitive silent prayer: ?Lord, help us!? continues to ring within my head as I journey through the rest of this day wondering what will happen next and what destruction awaits me when I turn on the television.
Renee M. Witcher
Ft. Washington, MD
Collection
Citation
“story7604.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 11, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/13132.