story3449.xml
Title
story3449.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-11
911DA Story: Story
9-11: A DAY TO REMEMBER
A personal recollection of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center
September 11, 2001
By
Christopher P. Smith
c.smith@christophers.org
Version: 10-11-01 ? 2001
8:45 AM
Boeing 767 (American Airlines Flight 11) hits North Tower (1 World Trade Center)
9:03 AM
Boeing 767 (United Airlines Flight 175) hits South Tower (2 World Trade Center)
I am the Administrator of The Christophers, located at 12 East 48th Street, close to the intersection of 48th Street & 5th Avenue in Manhattan.
At about 9:10 a.m. I was alerted by our receptionist Shirley Oliver, who contacted me by intercom, saying excitedly, ?Did you hear, two planes hit the World Trade Center! If you go to the corner you can see it.? She said she understood that one ?large plane? and one ?small plane? had struck the buildings.? Perhaps a mid-air collision? I went to the street corner. Rings of flames were visible in sections of the upper third of both towers. Huge plumes of black smoke billowed to the southeast. The sight was so unbelievable, it reminded me of a Hollywood movie.
(Since 1989, I have been a member of Bravo Volunteer Ambulance Service (BRAVO) in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I had responded with BRAVO to the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. Our response was recognized by the New York City Council. See NOTE #3 at end.)
While standing on the corner, I immediately tried to contact BRAVO with my cell phone. Repeatedly, I got ?network busy? indication because the system was overwhelmed with calls. I went back to the office and used the land-line to call BRAVO and ask if BRAVO was responding to the World Trade Center (WTC). The dispatcher said that one ambulance and the van were responding (BRAVO has three ambulances and a utility van). I told the dispatcher that I would join the BRAVO units at the scene. I was advised by the dispatcher that the emergency response staging area was the intersection of Vesey and West Streets. I said I would try to meet the BRAVO units there. Vesey street, which runs east-west, forms the northern border of the twin-towers complex.
I met with Gerald Costello, The Christophers? president, and advised him that I would be leaving the office to meet up with my ambulance squad at the scene. He and Mary Ellen Robinson had the cable TV on. I didn?t stop to watch.
Before I left, I called my wife, Ingrid, at home in Brooklyn to let her know what had happened and that I was going to respond to the scene. I left a message on the answering machine. (See NOTE #1 at end)
I closed the computer document I was working on at 9:16 a.m. and left the office for the WTC. I had had only coffee and no breakfast, and went to the deli two doors down for a bagel with cream cheese to go. I was not hungry at all, but I knew I might have problems later if I didn?t force something down now.
When I got to 5th Avenue to flag down a cab, traffic was light, and, amazingly, empty cabs were just lined up along the curb. The drivers were standing next to their open doors, staring at the burning towers in the distance. I entered a cab, and when the driver said ?Where, to?? I said ?Get me as close to those buildings as you possibly can.? The driver gave me this look ? which I countered by saying that I was part of the medical response, and off we went.
Having responded to the 1993 WTC bombing, I had a mental map of what to expect. The primary response area would be West Street. In the hours ahead, several hundred, if not thousands of ?walking wounded? would be streaming out of the towers on to West Street. I would render whatever assistance I could, and hopefully meet up with my BRAVO crew there as well.
There was less traffic than I thought there would be, and I got closer to the towers than I thought we would get before the police roadblock, about eight blocks north of the north tower. I gave the cabby double fare for being a good sport.
The neighborhood is not one I am closely familiar with. I headed south, closer to the huge burning towers, trying to recall whether Vesey Street bordered WTC complex or whether it was a couple of blocks north. The thought that the towers might collapse never crossed my mind. In fact, I was thinking that when the fire gets put out, its going to be a one hell of a repair job. There were gaping holes in the sides of the buildings, but they were immense structures and looked solid. Then I saw a person falling through the air from the upper portion of the North tower. That shook me up. I moved on.
I was walking south on Greenwich Street to where it intersects Barclay. West Street was the next block south. Ironically, the closer I got to the towers, the more obscured my view became because of a huge 47 story building: 7 World Trade Center (Later in the day, this building would collapse entirely as the result of damage caused by the collapse of the north tower). Standing next to 7 WTC, my view of the south tower was obscured entirely, but I could see the top of the burning north tower. There weren?t many people around, and I saw a pay phone with a person using it and no line of people waiting. Pay phones I passed previously had lines of people waiting. Cell phone service was still dead.
At about 10:03 a.m. I used this phone to call BRAVO. Our dispatcher told me that BRAVO was transporting a patient from the scene (See NOTE #2 at end). I said I would proceed to the staging area (about a block away). At the moment I hung up the phone there was a loud whooshing metallic noise. Immediately, I looked up, believing this sound to possibly be a low altitude jet turbine. My reaction was, ?Oh shit! -- There?s a third plane coming in right at me.? I immediately looked above me expecting to see an airplane or something over my head. This moment of terror was interrupted by the sound of debris hitting the ground and the sight of huge thunder-clouds of dust shooting north up East Broadway on my left, and Greenwich Street on my right. The tower (2 WTC) was collapsing (10:05 a.m.), but 7 World Trade Center had acted like a giant shield for me. Still, the wave of dust was a smothering rolling cloud.
Everybody ran north. I glanced back and saw chunks of concrete-colored masonry the size of softballs on the sidewalk where I had been standing. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, as I never saw the stuff hit the ground. About a half dozen people and I ducked into a white building with revolving doors. I stayed there a couple of minutes and left when it appeared that there were no more falling debris and the dust was not getting worse. The lobby attendants urged everyone to remain inside ?because it was safer than outside.? (I think he ate those words about twenty minutes later). I jogged north a block or two to, I believe, Warren Street, between Greenwich and East Broadway. On the north side of the street there was a tiny parking lot with a vacant pay phone. I called BRAVO, the office, and left a message for Ingrid at home letting them know that the tower was down but I was OK.
I walked a half-block east to West Broadway, which was saturated with dust. The depth of the whitish dust was approximately an inch. It looked as though there had been a snowfall. I picked up a handful of the dust. It was the color of concrete but seemed to be very fibrous. It was just me and a cop at the intersection. The police officer said, ?Are you a cop? If you don?t have to be here, I?d get out of here. You don?t know what?s in that stuff. Unfortunately, I have to be here.? I told him, ?I?m trying to meet up with my volunteer ambulance unit,? and I moved on.
I proceeded north and then west to get to West Street. I won?t know my exact path until I go back there some day. I remember crossing a footbridge that gave me an unobstructed view of the remaining burning tower. At this point I was wondering if the north tower would go down as well, and if it went down would it go straight down, or would it flop over. And if it did flop over, would I be within range of the fall. I was on West Street, and decided to pull back, and I proceeded north. I gave the thumbs-up sign to several firemen. They were the only people heading toward the remaining tower.
It had been about ten minutes since the first tower went down. The scene on West Street was total confusion. The street was a flood of fire, police, and EMS vehicles of every description. Everyone was in shock. I was worried about our BRAVO crew, but took comfort in the fact that they had begun transporting a patient before the collapse. What about the people in the BRAVO van? Were they OK?
At 10:28 a.m., the final horror unfolded. I was on West Street, about four or five blocks away when the North Tower went down. The center went straight down. The mast at the top remained erect. The floors pan-caked down and exploded in dust and debris. There was an order to it, a violent grace in death. The sides of the building peeled in giant sheets and broke away like a fractured banana peel. One of the world?s tallest buildings had disintegrated before my eyes. How could anyone have survived?
A tsunami wave of dust thirty stories high was shooting north on West Street. It took several several seconds for it to register that we had to get out of the way. Suddenly everyone was in retreat. People running and vehicles in reverse gear. Some drivers already had their vehicles headed north. Good for them! It was total confusion. We retreated a couple of blocks or so. The air was very dusty, but not pea soup.
The wind was in our favor at our location. The prevailing wind that day was south-east, so during the whole incident the dust and smoke ultimately was blowing away from where I was. People east and south of the WTC complex were smothered. Day became night.
After the retreat I found myself at the corner of West & Monroe Streets next to BMCC (Borough of Manhattan Community College). Crew members were just opening the doors of an ambulance from Flatlands (Brooklyn) Volunteer Ambulance Service. I told the Flatlands crew that I was with BRAVO and asked if I could hook up with them. They said OK. The ?walking wounded? were making their way up West Street. FDNY EMS set up a treatment area in BMCC for less serious cases. Serious cases got immediate transport.
We set up a triage area around the ambulance on West Street next to the median. A fireman staggered up to us stating that he had been struck by a vehicle in the retreat and knocked out. He had pain along the entire left side of his body neck pain and dizziness. He got a rapid take down and immediate transport. We loaded him into a FDNY bus. What we were seeing mostly were the effects of the dust and smoke: irritated eyes, throats, lungs and a few cuts and bruises from people falling and crashing into things during the dust blast.
After about forty minutes there was a rumor about a possible pending third explosion. Then, suddenly, it was evacuation time ? fast. It was load and go, out of there. Word was that there was potential for a gas line explosion.
This time the retreat didn?t end until we hit Chelsea Piers, a huge waterfront recreational sports facility at about 16th Street, portions of which were being set up as an emergency treatment center. It was also a staging area for ambulances, which meant that our ambulance got on a huge line of other ambulances, in anticipation of being sent back to ground zero.
Also joining the Flatlands Volunteer Ambulance crew with me was a fellow named Thane Thompson. Thane, an employee of Morgan Stanley from California, had been in New York for the first time for only a day or so. He was on the 61st floor of the south tower when the first plane hit. He successfully evacuated from the building. When the tower collapsed, he ducked into an underground garage and was briefly trapped with a group of firemen. They found an alternate route out of the garage, and had to share their respirators in order to breathe. After all of that, he volunteered to help on the ambulance. Although he wasn?t an EMT, he had medical experience from the Army. (See NOTE #4 for Thane Thompson?s Account in his own words)
I asked the Flatlands crew chief to ask their dispatcher to call BRAVO and let them know I was OK, and that I working with them, and to call my wife and let her know the same, which they did. Cell phone and pay phone service was dead.
We were with the Flatlands Ambulance crew on line with dozens of other ambulances at the Chelsea Piers staging area for several hours. During this time we restocked with supplies which were being delivered by truck. In anticipation of being sent back to ground zero, we organized the nine of us into three groups of three.
Slowly the ambulance line moved along. I subsequently concluded that none of them were ever sent to ground zero, but rather were sent to other ambulance staging areas, and eventually sent home. FDNY said they didn?t want crews working more than twelve hours straight.
Word on the street was bleak. It was said that in addition the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial, White House, and Mall had been hit as well. (My brother, David, a US Navy Captain, had left the Pentagon just prior to the attack there). My parents, who also live in Washington, had gone to France on Labor Day and were expected back on the 17th. I wondered what they were thinking.
Around 3:00 p.m., the Flatlands crew said that their own members would staff the ambulance, in the event that it was sent to ground zero, and that the rest of us help at Chelsea Piers. That made sense and Thane and I went to see what we could do. We moved on.
There were many other volunteers, everything from doctors and nurses and people with basic medical experience, to people with no medical experience. Thane and I hooked up with the American Red Cross. We got a quick, and grim refresher in patient triage. Hundreds of patients were expected and we were to help with patient administration.
At Chelsea Piers, in a series of four huge adjoining rooms, a field hospital, including an ?operating room? was being set up. The ?operating room? really brought home the immensity of what were potentially facing. The operating room consisted of about 150 portable beds, each with one high intensity light, a side table with surgical hardware and a side table with an EKG / defibrillator. This was the RED room for trauma patients. RED patients were not expected to live without immediate medical intervention.
The fact that the field hospital was setup, stocked and staffed so quickly is testimony to the preparedness of the city.
At MCIs (Multiple Casualty Incidents) patients are literally tagged. The tags indicate one of four colors: BLACK: Deceased or mortal injuries; RED: Death probable without immediate intervention; YELLOW: Patient stable but in need of medical intervention; GREEN: Patient stable and ambulatory, in need of relatively minor treatment. The field hospital was divided into treatment areas by color code. The RED room was the major trauma room, and every one of the 100+ ?beds? had a surgeon and at least one assistant next to it. The air was electric with anticipation of what was to come.
Our job as ?Volly-PADs? was to meet the arriving ambulances, and escort the patient and crew to the appropriate treatment area (RED, GREEN, YELLOW?) We were to complete the patient information section of the PCR, and take vital signs if we had the experience to do so.
In the case of unconscious trauma patients or the deceased, we would have to take the patient information from their wallets, etc. We were told we may be dealing with ?pieces? of human remains.
Hot and cold trays of food were available for the emergency crews at a restaurant called ?Pier 60,? so we took a break to eat. There was also food and refreshments available at the field hospital. It is amazing how good food can appear at the scene of an urban disaster. The same thing happened at the ?93 bombing. Only in New York! At a certain point, if you don?t eat and stay hydrated you can end up being a victim yourself.
On two occasions, word was that up to 500 patients were imminently expected but they never appeared. The only wave that ever came in was about 100 people, mostly Police Officers, complaining of irritated eyes, throats and lungs. Some cuts, bangs and bruises. I personally took vitals and wrote up about 15 police officers. After the preliminary write-up, the patients were escorted to a doctor for treatment. After that wave, all was quiet.
I never saw a single patient treated in the RED (trauma) room. This was a bad sign but nobody talked about it.
I got word that the ?lettered? subways were running again and made the decision to go home shortly after midnight. Nothing more was happening and I came to two sad conclusions: All the patients were dead. And there weren?t any bodies. There was no more job for me to do.
Cell phone service was back but spotty, and my phone battery almost dead. I told Ingrid previously that I would probably stay at Chelsea piers over night, but called her now to let her know I was coming home. I walked to Union Square and got the ?R? train to Brooklyn. The train had to be re-routed because of tunnel damage from the collapse.
Well, I was glad to get home and see Ingrid and Ashley and Bonnie. I smelled like smoke and death, and Ingrid made me get in the shower right away. I called my brother in Washington at about 3:00 a.m. to make sure he was OK. He was.
I should say something about the odor from the disaster which permeated the city?s air. It wasn?t the kind of smell you would associate with a fire such as burnt wood, fabric or paper. The odor, which we still live with, has a distinct burnt plastic, burnt electrical smell to it, probably from all the synthetic materials used in the construction and furnishings.
A whole lot of people experienced much worse than I did that day. This is just my story. Over 5,000 people perished including about 500 firemen, cops and other rescuers. I didn?t witness the worst of the terrible sights and sounds of this tragedy. Seeing the north tower go down right in front of me was an experience beyond words and imagination. And prior to that, when the south tower went down, I felt I dodged a bullet. For an instant I had the terror of thinking I might get killed, and at the same time felt incredible guilt for voluntarily putting myself in that position. I thought of my family. I thought of my job. And I thought I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. All this in just the wink of an eye! But there was no bullet for me that day. Just a click. I moved on.
Three days after the September 11th attack, I called Willie Wright, my EMT instructor, to find out how I could re-certify and upgrade my EMT skills. Every three years New York State Emergency Medical Technicians have to have their skills challenged in a state test and take a refresher course. Willie had a refresher course just starting, and I signed up. My personal way of honoring the lives lost, is by being as prepared as possible for the future.
10-08-01
NOTE #1:
As it turned out, Ingrid was home, but did not get to the phone in time. She did hear my message, and immediately after, her brother, Albert called her as well. The cell phone networks were down, so she could not return my call. Ingrid left home with her camera and drove to a recreational pier (69th St.) about 30 blocks away that has a commanding view of the Manhattan skyline. She witnessed and photographed the collapse of the south tower. So devastated at what she saw, she drove back home, only to hear on the car radio that the north tower went down as well.
NOTE #2:
BRAVO-1 with crew Pam Carlton, Ed Handler and Aaron Waks arrived at the scene at approximately 9:10 a.m., and reported to the EMS staging area in front of the towers. They soon treated their first patient. They left the scene with the patient literally seconds before the first collapse, which meant their lives had been spared. Ambulance Bravo-2 and the utility van, BRAVO-4, responded to the scene shortly after.
NOTE #3:
(1993 Terrorist Bombing)
The Council - City of New York
Proclamation
Whereas: On February 23, 1993, in demonstration of their readiness to help those in need of emergency care, members of Bay Ridge Volunteer Ambulance Service of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, responded to the tragedy caused by the explosion at the World Trade center in Manhattan; and
Whereas: At approximately 12:30 p.m., upon hearing of the incident, BRAVO President Christopher Smith telephoned BRAVO Base to establish whether the City Emergency Medical Services (EMS) had called for help, and arranged to meet a BRAVO unit at the scene of the explosion; and
Whereas: Mr. Smith assisted EMS at the Mobile Emergency Room Vehicle Command Center on West Street in front of the Trade Center, while BRAVO Vice President of Operations Dave Wildner arranged for a crew to respond to the scene while maintaining coverage for Bay Ridge, and
Whereas: BRAVO members Walter Jehle, Wil Ketelsen, Nick Nikolopoulos, Ed Slomka, Fred Agnello, Jim Muller and Rober Mustillo joined President Smith at the scene, remaining there to about midnight; and
Whereas: Immediately upon their arrival at the Trade Center, BRAVO members began treating patients, most of whom suffered from smoke inhalation and fatigue, and
Whereas: BRAVO transported twelve individuals to various medical facilities, including three men who had who had been trapped in a smoke filled elevator and repeatedly told BRAVO members that they didn?t think that they would make it out alive; and
Whereas: BRAVO dispatchers Sadie Cecere, Toni Olsen and Victoria Monk maintained vital communication links between all BRAVO members; and
Whereas: BRAVO members Nick Cagliuso, Patrick Mitchell, Jennifer Smith, Gene Anderson, Anthony Angotti, Jim Howe, Gayle Zarrin, Jerry Lande, Bernadette Cherry; Henry Cordero, Patricia Holtz, Patricia McElroy, and Michael Swannick worked to cover the Bay Ridge area while the disaster management continued, upholding the obligation BRAVO owes to the residents of Bay Ridge who graciously support BRAVO?s work; now, therefore,
Be It Known: That the Council of the City of New York praises and thanks the officers and members of BRAVO Volunteer Ambulance Service, Inc., for their unselfish and heroic response to the World Trade Center explosion.
Signed this 9th day of March, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Ninety Three.
Sal F. Albanese
Council Member, 43rd District Brooklyn
NOTE #4:
From: Thane J. Thompson [thanej@attglobal.net]
Sent: Wednesday, October 10, 2001 11:10 PM
To: c.smith@christophers.org
Subject: Re: WTC Account
Chris,
Great to read your story. I think is therapeutic to talk or write this stuff out. Not only have I been talking about this to friends and family, I've also been reading some Victor Frankel. I'm struck by his wisdom and its relevance to this WTC attack. Frankel's messages have a certain raw, hard reality that ring true. The WTC was such a senseless act of violence. The massive loss of life in such a small space is staggering: 5000-6000 Mommys and Daddys gone. This terror has unsettled the psyche of a nation. The suffering just rippled through our society hitting even the sleepy little town that I live in. Frankel's existential truths easily fit this situation. To live is to suffer. To survive is to find meaning in the suffering. If there is a purpose in life, then there must be a purpose in suffering and in the dying. But no person call tell another what this purpose is. Each person must find there own meaning and must accept the responsibility for what that meaning prescribes for life. If you succeeds you will continue to grow in spite of all indignities.
My short story is this....
I was in NYC on the 61st floor of Tower 2 sipping coffee and looking out toward the Statue of Liberty. It was sunny, beautiful and I was thinking about how grand it was to be in Manhattan again. When the first plane hit it sounded like muffled, distant thunder that I didn't understand. I soon saw papers merrily falling from the sky like a ticker tape parade. I knew something was wrong when I saw balls of burning material falling to the street. We started evacuating down the stairs. I was in the stairwell on the 20th floor when the second plane hit tower 2. The awful explosion and the shuddering building told me we were in extreme danger. After helping a big lady down and out of the building, I went over to the west side of WTC and reported to a fire department control point. I thought I would put my army medical training to good use. That command post was right across West Street from the WTC and, in retrospect, it was way too close. The fire chief told me they'd hook me up with medical team in a few minutes. So, I waited wondering if the terrorists were using this as a warm up for additional planes, bio, chem or truck bomb surprise. You know, the old 'bloodly nose' trick. I saw those poor people either jump, get pushed or get sucked out of the building. Just I as I decided to put these ugly thoughts out of my mind, tower 2 started to come down. Because we were so close to the base of the tower, the visual on this was truly terrifying. It looked like it was coming down right on top of us. I ran as fast as my slippery wing tips would carried me. The firemen and I ran for our lives down into an underground garage while the rumble and dust plugged the mouth of garage. "Trapped...", I thought "...so this is it happens." I feel we could have easily have been buried alive and bought it there in the dark with that stifling dust. I made a makeshift mask out a rag I found in a Janitors closet. Luckily, some of fireman had respirators and they searched around in the dark, dust fill garage to find a clear emergency exit going up and out. Up top, you saw it on CNN I'm sure, it looked like the moon, or a volcano... inches of dust on the ground and in the air... gagging everybody without a mask. I could see no farther then four feet. Keeping the building to my left, I made my way around the base of a building to the corner and the dust thinned, then for a half block then I was out of the cloud. I linked up with a nurse who was helping people as they emerged from the dust cloud. I helped a couple people by washing the dust and crap out of their eyes. They looked like they been spray painted with dust an 1/8 thick, but generally in good condition. I think you either got away without much injury or you were dead. The nurse had wandered off and I saw three ambulances start to setup a triage point on the corner. I gathered up an aid kit, an O2 tank and a backboard and went over to join up with an ambulance crew. Just as I got there the second building started to fall toward us and that panicky, "run for your lives" behavior started up again as the Tower 1 collapsed. I jumped in the back of an ambulance and we raced ahead of the boiling dust cloud as it rolled through the building canyons like some scene out of a cheap action flick. The driver made a wrong turn into a cul-de-sac, stopped suddenly, shouted "everybody out" and we debussed into a crowd of kids evacuating from Pace Univ? Walking north a block later I linked up with different ambulance crew from the Flatlands Volunteer Ambulance Corps. There we helped a guy with some minor head trauma who had been pummelled by debris. Soon we were ordered to pull back for fear of gas explosions. I rode with the crew to Chelsea Pier where an emergency treatment point was being setup. It was like a hasty MASH unit with 50 emergency operating tables, 30 minor treatment stations all improvised out of folding banquet tables and heap of medical supplies. But sadly very, very few casualties every came to Chelsea Pier because most people died. I heard later that they only treated 100 or so public service folks with eye abrasions and dust inhalation. I stayed until about 11p and left when I realized that there were plenty of volunteers lined up to help and no casualties coming to Chelsea Pier. I took the train uptown to my hotel and slept awful. The emotional aspect of all this really hit me on Weds after watching CNN in the morning and heard more details about people and families. I spent the afternoon walking in Central Park trying to sort out my thoughts and memories. I called a blood center to give blood and they said they'd call back with an appointment in 4-5 days! The outpouring of volunteerism was inspiring. Rather then fly, my employer chartered a bus and that was just the right answer.. low stress and no airport hassle.
So Chris, you and I were at ground zero and suffered that indignity first hand. When I tell people this they often ask kindly if I'm ok and look at me cautiously as if I might burst into tears. More and more, I tell them that I am doing fine and ask them back how they are doing. They often believe that I must be suffering more than most. I'm not so sure. While I was physically involved on Tuesday, you and I were able to act in response to this event and that a big step in coping: action. I did not fully appreciate the magnitude and depth of the event until I was subjected to CNN and the power of global media on Wednesday back in my hotel room. Sitting in front of the TV, I was emotionally beat up. The TV new emotionally traumatized me. Story after story took me into the victims homes, lives and I saw their children. My point is that even though people were miles and miles away in a sleepy little foothill town, I know people are suffering and some are changed forever.
My question is whether or not this changed you? If if has changed you, have is your behavior different?
You said you're getting back involved with EMS by re-certifying. That's additional action and put that down to coping in a meaningful way. What do you think?
Regards,
Thane
***************************************
A personal recollection of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center
September 11, 2001
By
Christopher P. Smith
c.smith@christophers.org
Version: 10-11-01 ? 2001
8:45 AM
Boeing 767 (American Airlines Flight 11) hits North Tower (1 World Trade Center)
9:03 AM
Boeing 767 (United Airlines Flight 175) hits South Tower (2 World Trade Center)
I am the Administrator of The Christophers, located at 12 East 48th Street, close to the intersection of 48th Street & 5th Avenue in Manhattan.
At about 9:10 a.m. I was alerted by our receptionist Shirley Oliver, who contacted me by intercom, saying excitedly, ?Did you hear, two planes hit the World Trade Center! If you go to the corner you can see it.? She said she understood that one ?large plane? and one ?small plane? had struck the buildings.? Perhaps a mid-air collision? I went to the street corner. Rings of flames were visible in sections of the upper third of both towers. Huge plumes of black smoke billowed to the southeast. The sight was so unbelievable, it reminded me of a Hollywood movie.
(Since 1989, I have been a member of Bravo Volunteer Ambulance Service (BRAVO) in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I had responded with BRAVO to the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. Our response was recognized by the New York City Council. See NOTE #3 at end.)
While standing on the corner, I immediately tried to contact BRAVO with my cell phone. Repeatedly, I got ?network busy? indication because the system was overwhelmed with calls. I went back to the office and used the land-line to call BRAVO and ask if BRAVO was responding to the World Trade Center (WTC). The dispatcher said that one ambulance and the van were responding (BRAVO has three ambulances and a utility van). I told the dispatcher that I would join the BRAVO units at the scene. I was advised by the dispatcher that the emergency response staging area was the intersection of Vesey and West Streets. I said I would try to meet the BRAVO units there. Vesey street, which runs east-west, forms the northern border of the twin-towers complex.
I met with Gerald Costello, The Christophers? president, and advised him that I would be leaving the office to meet up with my ambulance squad at the scene. He and Mary Ellen Robinson had the cable TV on. I didn?t stop to watch.
Before I left, I called my wife, Ingrid, at home in Brooklyn to let her know what had happened and that I was going to respond to the scene. I left a message on the answering machine. (See NOTE #1 at end)
I closed the computer document I was working on at 9:16 a.m. and left the office for the WTC. I had had only coffee and no breakfast, and went to the deli two doors down for a bagel with cream cheese to go. I was not hungry at all, but I knew I might have problems later if I didn?t force something down now.
When I got to 5th Avenue to flag down a cab, traffic was light, and, amazingly, empty cabs were just lined up along the curb. The drivers were standing next to their open doors, staring at the burning towers in the distance. I entered a cab, and when the driver said ?Where, to?? I said ?Get me as close to those buildings as you possibly can.? The driver gave me this look ? which I countered by saying that I was part of the medical response, and off we went.
Having responded to the 1993 WTC bombing, I had a mental map of what to expect. The primary response area would be West Street. In the hours ahead, several hundred, if not thousands of ?walking wounded? would be streaming out of the towers on to West Street. I would render whatever assistance I could, and hopefully meet up with my BRAVO crew there as well.
There was less traffic than I thought there would be, and I got closer to the towers than I thought we would get before the police roadblock, about eight blocks north of the north tower. I gave the cabby double fare for being a good sport.
The neighborhood is not one I am closely familiar with. I headed south, closer to the huge burning towers, trying to recall whether Vesey Street bordered WTC complex or whether it was a couple of blocks north. The thought that the towers might collapse never crossed my mind. In fact, I was thinking that when the fire gets put out, its going to be a one hell of a repair job. There were gaping holes in the sides of the buildings, but they were immense structures and looked solid. Then I saw a person falling through the air from the upper portion of the North tower. That shook me up. I moved on.
I was walking south on Greenwich Street to where it intersects Barclay. West Street was the next block south. Ironically, the closer I got to the towers, the more obscured my view became because of a huge 47 story building: 7 World Trade Center (Later in the day, this building would collapse entirely as the result of damage caused by the collapse of the north tower). Standing next to 7 WTC, my view of the south tower was obscured entirely, but I could see the top of the burning north tower. There weren?t many people around, and I saw a pay phone with a person using it and no line of people waiting. Pay phones I passed previously had lines of people waiting. Cell phone service was still dead.
At about 10:03 a.m. I used this phone to call BRAVO. Our dispatcher told me that BRAVO was transporting a patient from the scene (See NOTE #2 at end). I said I would proceed to the staging area (about a block away). At the moment I hung up the phone there was a loud whooshing metallic noise. Immediately, I looked up, believing this sound to possibly be a low altitude jet turbine. My reaction was, ?Oh shit! -- There?s a third plane coming in right at me.? I immediately looked above me expecting to see an airplane or something over my head. This moment of terror was interrupted by the sound of debris hitting the ground and the sight of huge thunder-clouds of dust shooting north up East Broadway on my left, and Greenwich Street on my right. The tower (2 WTC) was collapsing (10:05 a.m.), but 7 World Trade Center had acted like a giant shield for me. Still, the wave of dust was a smothering rolling cloud.
Everybody ran north. I glanced back and saw chunks of concrete-colored masonry the size of softballs on the sidewalk where I had been standing. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, as I never saw the stuff hit the ground. About a half dozen people and I ducked into a white building with revolving doors. I stayed there a couple of minutes and left when it appeared that there were no more falling debris and the dust was not getting worse. The lobby attendants urged everyone to remain inside ?because it was safer than outside.? (I think he ate those words about twenty minutes later). I jogged north a block or two to, I believe, Warren Street, between Greenwich and East Broadway. On the north side of the street there was a tiny parking lot with a vacant pay phone. I called BRAVO, the office, and left a message for Ingrid at home letting them know that the tower was down but I was OK.
I walked a half-block east to West Broadway, which was saturated with dust. The depth of the whitish dust was approximately an inch. It looked as though there had been a snowfall. I picked up a handful of the dust. It was the color of concrete but seemed to be very fibrous. It was just me and a cop at the intersection. The police officer said, ?Are you a cop? If you don?t have to be here, I?d get out of here. You don?t know what?s in that stuff. Unfortunately, I have to be here.? I told him, ?I?m trying to meet up with my volunteer ambulance unit,? and I moved on.
I proceeded north and then west to get to West Street. I won?t know my exact path until I go back there some day. I remember crossing a footbridge that gave me an unobstructed view of the remaining burning tower. At this point I was wondering if the north tower would go down as well, and if it went down would it go straight down, or would it flop over. And if it did flop over, would I be within range of the fall. I was on West Street, and decided to pull back, and I proceeded north. I gave the thumbs-up sign to several firemen. They were the only people heading toward the remaining tower.
It had been about ten minutes since the first tower went down. The scene on West Street was total confusion. The street was a flood of fire, police, and EMS vehicles of every description. Everyone was in shock. I was worried about our BRAVO crew, but took comfort in the fact that they had begun transporting a patient before the collapse. What about the people in the BRAVO van? Were they OK?
At 10:28 a.m., the final horror unfolded. I was on West Street, about four or five blocks away when the North Tower went down. The center went straight down. The mast at the top remained erect. The floors pan-caked down and exploded in dust and debris. There was an order to it, a violent grace in death. The sides of the building peeled in giant sheets and broke away like a fractured banana peel. One of the world?s tallest buildings had disintegrated before my eyes. How could anyone have survived?
A tsunami wave of dust thirty stories high was shooting north on West Street. It took several several seconds for it to register that we had to get out of the way. Suddenly everyone was in retreat. People running and vehicles in reverse gear. Some drivers already had their vehicles headed north. Good for them! It was total confusion. We retreated a couple of blocks or so. The air was very dusty, but not pea soup.
The wind was in our favor at our location. The prevailing wind that day was south-east, so during the whole incident the dust and smoke ultimately was blowing away from where I was. People east and south of the WTC complex were smothered. Day became night.
After the retreat I found myself at the corner of West & Monroe Streets next to BMCC (Borough of Manhattan Community College). Crew members were just opening the doors of an ambulance from Flatlands (Brooklyn) Volunteer Ambulance Service. I told the Flatlands crew that I was with BRAVO and asked if I could hook up with them. They said OK. The ?walking wounded? were making their way up West Street. FDNY EMS set up a treatment area in BMCC for less serious cases. Serious cases got immediate transport.
We set up a triage area around the ambulance on West Street next to the median. A fireman staggered up to us stating that he had been struck by a vehicle in the retreat and knocked out. He had pain along the entire left side of his body neck pain and dizziness. He got a rapid take down and immediate transport. We loaded him into a FDNY bus. What we were seeing mostly were the effects of the dust and smoke: irritated eyes, throats, lungs and a few cuts and bruises from people falling and crashing into things during the dust blast.
After about forty minutes there was a rumor about a possible pending third explosion. Then, suddenly, it was evacuation time ? fast. It was load and go, out of there. Word was that there was potential for a gas line explosion.
This time the retreat didn?t end until we hit Chelsea Piers, a huge waterfront recreational sports facility at about 16th Street, portions of which were being set up as an emergency treatment center. It was also a staging area for ambulances, which meant that our ambulance got on a huge line of other ambulances, in anticipation of being sent back to ground zero.
Also joining the Flatlands Volunteer Ambulance crew with me was a fellow named Thane Thompson. Thane, an employee of Morgan Stanley from California, had been in New York for the first time for only a day or so. He was on the 61st floor of the south tower when the first plane hit. He successfully evacuated from the building. When the tower collapsed, he ducked into an underground garage and was briefly trapped with a group of firemen. They found an alternate route out of the garage, and had to share their respirators in order to breathe. After all of that, he volunteered to help on the ambulance. Although he wasn?t an EMT, he had medical experience from the Army. (See NOTE #4 for Thane Thompson?s Account in his own words)
I asked the Flatlands crew chief to ask their dispatcher to call BRAVO and let them know I was OK, and that I working with them, and to call my wife and let her know the same, which they did. Cell phone and pay phone service was dead.
We were with the Flatlands Ambulance crew on line with dozens of other ambulances at the Chelsea Piers staging area for several hours. During this time we restocked with supplies which were being delivered by truck. In anticipation of being sent back to ground zero, we organized the nine of us into three groups of three.
Slowly the ambulance line moved along. I subsequently concluded that none of them were ever sent to ground zero, but rather were sent to other ambulance staging areas, and eventually sent home. FDNY said they didn?t want crews working more than twelve hours straight.
Word on the street was bleak. It was said that in addition the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial, White House, and Mall had been hit as well. (My brother, David, a US Navy Captain, had left the Pentagon just prior to the attack there). My parents, who also live in Washington, had gone to France on Labor Day and were expected back on the 17th. I wondered what they were thinking.
Around 3:00 p.m., the Flatlands crew said that their own members would staff the ambulance, in the event that it was sent to ground zero, and that the rest of us help at Chelsea Piers. That made sense and Thane and I went to see what we could do. We moved on.
There were many other volunteers, everything from doctors and nurses and people with basic medical experience, to people with no medical experience. Thane and I hooked up with the American Red Cross. We got a quick, and grim refresher in patient triage. Hundreds of patients were expected and we were to help with patient administration.
At Chelsea Piers, in a series of four huge adjoining rooms, a field hospital, including an ?operating room? was being set up. The ?operating room? really brought home the immensity of what were potentially facing. The operating room consisted of about 150 portable beds, each with one high intensity light, a side table with surgical hardware and a side table with an EKG / defibrillator. This was the RED room for trauma patients. RED patients were not expected to live without immediate medical intervention.
The fact that the field hospital was setup, stocked and staffed so quickly is testimony to the preparedness of the city.
At MCIs (Multiple Casualty Incidents) patients are literally tagged. The tags indicate one of four colors: BLACK: Deceased or mortal injuries; RED: Death probable without immediate intervention; YELLOW: Patient stable but in need of medical intervention; GREEN: Patient stable and ambulatory, in need of relatively minor treatment. The field hospital was divided into treatment areas by color code. The RED room was the major trauma room, and every one of the 100+ ?beds? had a surgeon and at least one assistant next to it. The air was electric with anticipation of what was to come.
Our job as ?Volly-PADs? was to meet the arriving ambulances, and escort the patient and crew to the appropriate treatment area (RED, GREEN, YELLOW?) We were to complete the patient information section of the PCR, and take vital signs if we had the experience to do so.
In the case of unconscious trauma patients or the deceased, we would have to take the patient information from their wallets, etc. We were told we may be dealing with ?pieces? of human remains.
Hot and cold trays of food were available for the emergency crews at a restaurant called ?Pier 60,? so we took a break to eat. There was also food and refreshments available at the field hospital. It is amazing how good food can appear at the scene of an urban disaster. The same thing happened at the ?93 bombing. Only in New York! At a certain point, if you don?t eat and stay hydrated you can end up being a victim yourself.
On two occasions, word was that up to 500 patients were imminently expected but they never appeared. The only wave that ever came in was about 100 people, mostly Police Officers, complaining of irritated eyes, throats and lungs. Some cuts, bangs and bruises. I personally took vitals and wrote up about 15 police officers. After the preliminary write-up, the patients were escorted to a doctor for treatment. After that wave, all was quiet.
I never saw a single patient treated in the RED (trauma) room. This was a bad sign but nobody talked about it.
I got word that the ?lettered? subways were running again and made the decision to go home shortly after midnight. Nothing more was happening and I came to two sad conclusions: All the patients were dead. And there weren?t any bodies. There was no more job for me to do.
Cell phone service was back but spotty, and my phone battery almost dead. I told Ingrid previously that I would probably stay at Chelsea piers over night, but called her now to let her know I was coming home. I walked to Union Square and got the ?R? train to Brooklyn. The train had to be re-routed because of tunnel damage from the collapse.
Well, I was glad to get home and see Ingrid and Ashley and Bonnie. I smelled like smoke and death, and Ingrid made me get in the shower right away. I called my brother in Washington at about 3:00 a.m. to make sure he was OK. He was.
I should say something about the odor from the disaster which permeated the city?s air. It wasn?t the kind of smell you would associate with a fire such as burnt wood, fabric or paper. The odor, which we still live with, has a distinct burnt plastic, burnt electrical smell to it, probably from all the synthetic materials used in the construction and furnishings.
A whole lot of people experienced much worse than I did that day. This is just my story. Over 5,000 people perished including about 500 firemen, cops and other rescuers. I didn?t witness the worst of the terrible sights and sounds of this tragedy. Seeing the north tower go down right in front of me was an experience beyond words and imagination. And prior to that, when the south tower went down, I felt I dodged a bullet. For an instant I had the terror of thinking I might get killed, and at the same time felt incredible guilt for voluntarily putting myself in that position. I thought of my family. I thought of my job. And I thought I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. All this in just the wink of an eye! But there was no bullet for me that day. Just a click. I moved on.
Three days after the September 11th attack, I called Willie Wright, my EMT instructor, to find out how I could re-certify and upgrade my EMT skills. Every three years New York State Emergency Medical Technicians have to have their skills challenged in a state test and take a refresher course. Willie had a refresher course just starting, and I signed up. My personal way of honoring the lives lost, is by being as prepared as possible for the future.
10-08-01
NOTE #1:
As it turned out, Ingrid was home, but did not get to the phone in time. She did hear my message, and immediately after, her brother, Albert called her as well. The cell phone networks were down, so she could not return my call. Ingrid left home with her camera and drove to a recreational pier (69th St.) about 30 blocks away that has a commanding view of the Manhattan skyline. She witnessed and photographed the collapse of the south tower. So devastated at what she saw, she drove back home, only to hear on the car radio that the north tower went down as well.
NOTE #2:
BRAVO-1 with crew Pam Carlton, Ed Handler and Aaron Waks arrived at the scene at approximately 9:10 a.m., and reported to the EMS staging area in front of the towers. They soon treated their first patient. They left the scene with the patient literally seconds before the first collapse, which meant their lives had been spared. Ambulance Bravo-2 and the utility van, BRAVO-4, responded to the scene shortly after.
NOTE #3:
(1993 Terrorist Bombing)
The Council - City of New York
Proclamation
Whereas: On February 23, 1993, in demonstration of their readiness to help those in need of emergency care, members of Bay Ridge Volunteer Ambulance Service of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, responded to the tragedy caused by the explosion at the World Trade center in Manhattan; and
Whereas: At approximately 12:30 p.m., upon hearing of the incident, BRAVO President Christopher Smith telephoned BRAVO Base to establish whether the City Emergency Medical Services (EMS) had called for help, and arranged to meet a BRAVO unit at the scene of the explosion; and
Whereas: Mr. Smith assisted EMS at the Mobile Emergency Room Vehicle Command Center on West Street in front of the Trade Center, while BRAVO Vice President of Operations Dave Wildner arranged for a crew to respond to the scene while maintaining coverage for Bay Ridge, and
Whereas: BRAVO members Walter Jehle, Wil Ketelsen, Nick Nikolopoulos, Ed Slomka, Fred Agnello, Jim Muller and Rober Mustillo joined President Smith at the scene, remaining there to about midnight; and
Whereas: Immediately upon their arrival at the Trade Center, BRAVO members began treating patients, most of whom suffered from smoke inhalation and fatigue, and
Whereas: BRAVO transported twelve individuals to various medical facilities, including three men who had who had been trapped in a smoke filled elevator and repeatedly told BRAVO members that they didn?t think that they would make it out alive; and
Whereas: BRAVO dispatchers Sadie Cecere, Toni Olsen and Victoria Monk maintained vital communication links between all BRAVO members; and
Whereas: BRAVO members Nick Cagliuso, Patrick Mitchell, Jennifer Smith, Gene Anderson, Anthony Angotti, Jim Howe, Gayle Zarrin, Jerry Lande, Bernadette Cherry; Henry Cordero, Patricia Holtz, Patricia McElroy, and Michael Swannick worked to cover the Bay Ridge area while the disaster management continued, upholding the obligation BRAVO owes to the residents of Bay Ridge who graciously support BRAVO?s work; now, therefore,
Be It Known: That the Council of the City of New York praises and thanks the officers and members of BRAVO Volunteer Ambulance Service, Inc., for their unselfish and heroic response to the World Trade Center explosion.
Signed this 9th day of March, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Ninety Three.
Sal F. Albanese
Council Member, 43rd District Brooklyn
NOTE #4:
From: Thane J. Thompson [thanej@attglobal.net]
Sent: Wednesday, October 10, 2001 11:10 PM
To: c.smith@christophers.org
Subject: Re: WTC Account
Chris,
Great to read your story. I think is therapeutic to talk or write this stuff out. Not only have I been talking about this to friends and family, I've also been reading some Victor Frankel. I'm struck by his wisdom and its relevance to this WTC attack. Frankel's messages have a certain raw, hard reality that ring true. The WTC was such a senseless act of violence. The massive loss of life in such a small space is staggering: 5000-6000 Mommys and Daddys gone. This terror has unsettled the psyche of a nation. The suffering just rippled through our society hitting even the sleepy little town that I live in. Frankel's existential truths easily fit this situation. To live is to suffer. To survive is to find meaning in the suffering. If there is a purpose in life, then there must be a purpose in suffering and in the dying. But no person call tell another what this purpose is. Each person must find there own meaning and must accept the responsibility for what that meaning prescribes for life. If you succeeds you will continue to grow in spite of all indignities.
My short story is this....
I was in NYC on the 61st floor of Tower 2 sipping coffee and looking out toward the Statue of Liberty. It was sunny, beautiful and I was thinking about how grand it was to be in Manhattan again. When the first plane hit it sounded like muffled, distant thunder that I didn't understand. I soon saw papers merrily falling from the sky like a ticker tape parade. I knew something was wrong when I saw balls of burning material falling to the street. We started evacuating down the stairs. I was in the stairwell on the 20th floor when the second plane hit tower 2. The awful explosion and the shuddering building told me we were in extreme danger. After helping a big lady down and out of the building, I went over to the west side of WTC and reported to a fire department control point. I thought I would put my army medical training to good use. That command post was right across West Street from the WTC and, in retrospect, it was way too close. The fire chief told me they'd hook me up with medical team in a few minutes. So, I waited wondering if the terrorists were using this as a warm up for additional planes, bio, chem or truck bomb surprise. You know, the old 'bloodly nose' trick. I saw those poor people either jump, get pushed or get sucked out of the building. Just I as I decided to put these ugly thoughts out of my mind, tower 2 started to come down. Because we were so close to the base of the tower, the visual on this was truly terrifying. It looked like it was coming down right on top of us. I ran as fast as my slippery wing tips would carried me. The firemen and I ran for our lives down into an underground garage while the rumble and dust plugged the mouth of garage. "Trapped...", I thought "...so this is it happens." I feel we could have easily have been buried alive and bought it there in the dark with that stifling dust. I made a makeshift mask out a rag I found in a Janitors closet. Luckily, some of fireman had respirators and they searched around in the dark, dust fill garage to find a clear emergency exit going up and out. Up top, you saw it on CNN I'm sure, it looked like the moon, or a volcano... inches of dust on the ground and in the air... gagging everybody without a mask. I could see no farther then four feet. Keeping the building to my left, I made my way around the base of a building to the corner and the dust thinned, then for a half block then I was out of the cloud. I linked up with a nurse who was helping people as they emerged from the dust cloud. I helped a couple people by washing the dust and crap out of their eyes. They looked like they been spray painted with dust an 1/8 thick, but generally in good condition. I think you either got away without much injury or you were dead. The nurse had wandered off and I saw three ambulances start to setup a triage point on the corner. I gathered up an aid kit, an O2 tank and a backboard and went over to join up with an ambulance crew. Just as I got there the second building started to fall toward us and that panicky, "run for your lives" behavior started up again as the Tower 1 collapsed. I jumped in the back of an ambulance and we raced ahead of the boiling dust cloud as it rolled through the building canyons like some scene out of a cheap action flick. The driver made a wrong turn into a cul-de-sac, stopped suddenly, shouted "everybody out" and we debussed into a crowd of kids evacuating from Pace Univ? Walking north a block later I linked up with different ambulance crew from the Flatlands Volunteer Ambulance Corps. There we helped a guy with some minor head trauma who had been pummelled by debris. Soon we were ordered to pull back for fear of gas explosions. I rode with the crew to Chelsea Pier where an emergency treatment point was being setup. It was like a hasty MASH unit with 50 emergency operating tables, 30 minor treatment stations all improvised out of folding banquet tables and heap of medical supplies. But sadly very, very few casualties every came to Chelsea Pier because most people died. I heard later that they only treated 100 or so public service folks with eye abrasions and dust inhalation. I stayed until about 11p and left when I realized that there were plenty of volunteers lined up to help and no casualties coming to Chelsea Pier. I took the train uptown to my hotel and slept awful. The emotional aspect of all this really hit me on Weds after watching CNN in the morning and heard more details about people and families. I spent the afternoon walking in Central Park trying to sort out my thoughts and memories. I called a blood center to give blood and they said they'd call back with an appointment in 4-5 days! The outpouring of volunteerism was inspiring. Rather then fly, my employer chartered a bus and that was just the right answer.. low stress and no airport hassle.
So Chris, you and I were at ground zero and suffered that indignity first hand. When I tell people this they often ask kindly if I'm ok and look at me cautiously as if I might burst into tears. More and more, I tell them that I am doing fine and ask them back how they are doing. They often believe that I must be suffering more than most. I'm not so sure. While I was physically involved on Tuesday, you and I were able to act in response to this event and that a big step in coping: action. I did not fully appreciate the magnitude and depth of the event until I was subjected to CNN and the power of global media on Wednesday back in my hotel room. Sitting in front of the TV, I was emotionally beat up. The TV new emotionally traumatized me. Story after story took me into the victims homes, lives and I saw their children. My point is that even though people were miles and miles away in a sleepy little foothill town, I know people are suffering and some are changed forever.
My question is whether or not this changed you? If if has changed you, have is your behavior different?
You said you're getting back involved with EMS by re-certifying. That's additional action and put that down to coping in a meaningful way. What do you think?
Regards,
Thane
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Collection
Citation
“story3449.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed May 17, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/19705.