story153.xml

story153.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-03-06

On September 11, 2001, I went into work about 8:30 AM and changed into my uniform as I usually do. Arlington House, where I work, sits within Arlingon National Cemetery on a hill overlooking DC, the Potomac River, and the Pentagon. About 9:25 AM I stepped out of the Old Administration Building to walk over and open the house for visitors at 9:30 AM when Jan, the site gardener, came speeding up into the parking lot in the white Maintenance pickup truck. He jumped out and said in horror that two planes had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. My first inclination was that it must have been some sort of accident. A bit shaken but having no concept of the gravity of the situation, I continued over to the house where my friend and fellow ranger Linda and I opened the doors and set up the ribbons which direct traffic in the house. I took my assigned position on the second floor, standing at the head of the stairs. A few visitors came in immediately after we opened. A few minutes later, I heard and felt a loud ?Boom!? that seemed very close. Shortly thereafter Linda called upstairs and said, "Mark, I need you down here." I went downstairs and she asked what we should do about the Museum building, which the curatorial staff had not opened as usual that morning. Looking out the front doors of the house, I could see smoke billowing up through the trees. As I moved to get a better look Linda said, "They got the Pentagon." I stepped out in front of the house and saw a large black cloud going up against the blue sky.

About that time, my supervisor, Frank, came over to the house and instructed us to close up the house. We escorted the few visitors out of the house and, along with Malcolm, the Facility Manager, and Jan, began a walk-through of the site. I went with Frank and we searched the house and the bathroom buildings (checking inside trashcans, under toilets, etc), looking for anything suspicious. Fortunately, we didn't find anything. I really don't know what we would have done had we found anything. At one point, I heard another ?Boom!? and thought that the Pentagon had been hit again. I would learn later that the sound was just the sonic boom of some of our fighter planes taking off (from Langley, I presume). Malcolm had a small radio in his pocket and was tuned to the news reports. While we were checking the buildings and the grounds we heard a radio report that an "unidentified aircraft" was in route to D.C. It was at that point that I began to wonder about our safety. I didn?t know what to expect and remember thinking ?Could the Cemetery be a target?? Fortunately, nothing came of the report immediately. I don't know whether the report turned out to be false information or whether that unidentified aircraft turned out to be the one that crashed in Pennsylvania or what.

After we had checked the buildings and grounds, we went back to the office building and watched some news reports. I called my mom to tell her I was okay and she was very relieved. Several of us gathered around a small TV in Malcolm?s office. All of us were dealing with the situation in our own ways. Karen, the historian, was crying. Keena, one of our co-workers who was off that day called to make sure everyone was okay. Linda was probably the calmest of everyone. I was just shocked with the whole scene both in N.Y.C. and at the Pentagon. The whole thing was very nerve-racking. Being that close to D.C. and not knowing what was going to happen next, I didn't know whether we were in imminent danger or not.

Fortunately for me, I missed the bus that morning, so I had driven in rather than taking the Metro. (The idea of taking Metro was a bit unsettling at a time when we weren't certain that the attacks on the public were over.) I called my friend Melissa, who works in Rosslyn but lives in D.C. and does not have a car to see if she wanted me to pick her up and take her out to my house in Chantilly. She was grateful for the offer. The traffic was pretty bad right outside of the city as everyone was leaving work and trying to get home. The road was jam packed with cars and there were men and women in uniform walking along the road, having left the Pentagon. It took me about 20 minutes to drive the 2-3 miles over to Rosslyn where I picked up Melissa and one of her co-workers, Lois. We dropped Lois off at her home and then headed for Chantilly. As we were nearing Vienna, we got in touch with another friend, Scott, who was on the Metro, and convinced him to meet us at the Vienna Metro station and come out to Chantilly rather than take the Metro through the Pentagon station towards his home in Alexandria. We picked Scott up and I looked around for anyone else I knew in case they needed a ride home. I offered a ride to two of the people whom I recognized from my bus. They were grateful for the offer as the buses weren't running at that time. We crammed five people into my car and went out to Chantilly.

We spent most of the rest of the day just watching the news and the replays of the towers falling in New York. My mom made us some dinner. After most of the bridges into DC had been reopened for inbound traffic, Melissa and I went back to her apartment to collect some of her stuff so that she could stay out at my house. The city was very quiet. There were a lot of cops, and Military Policemen (part of the D.C. National Guard was called up) and the streets around the White House and Capitol were closed off. We tried to get a late edition Washington Post--stopping at probably a half a dozen places during the search-- but were unsuccessful. They were all sold out. On the way back home, we drove by the Pentagon. There was a thick smoky haze, illuminated by the emergency/construction lights which had been erected around the still-burning building. The burning smell was strong. I didn?t go to bed that night until about 1:30 AM as I was glued to the TV, waiting for whatever news came out. It would be a familiar pattern for the next few days.

For weeks afterwards, I had some trouble handling my emotions. I felt terrible sadness, but also tremendous pride. Simply the sight of an American flag strung up along the highway or a patriotic song on the radio was enough to make me well up with tears.