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2002-09-11

"Total Recall"By Daniel Bivona Ladder 84
I wrote this letter for the following reasons: In honor of victims and country, for the healing of myself and others, and for giving recognition to the unrecognized.

"Total Recall" was a term that I have never heard in my 20-year career as a NYC firefighter, but the unimaginable and unspeakable destruction of life had just happened.On the bus ride to the Staten Island Ferry, one fellow firefighter stood and led us in reciting the "Our Father." He did this to help us do our best in helping those in need. We were aware of the incomprehensible devastation we were about to bare witness to. We stood on the bridge with the ferry captain at the helm and gazed in silence at the smoke that now replaced the Twin Towers. Getting off the ferry, we were greeted by a frantic mass of people, covered in gray soot, fleeing the city. Many of them reached out to touch our coats, and a woman said, "God bless you and may He watch over you." The air and soot was getting thicker, and with each step we took, the mountain of destruction was becoming surreal. Twisted I-beams formed an interwoven web that looked like a huge roller-coaster track. Emergency vehicles were torn in half. City buses appeared to be the victims of their own bomb blasts. I prayed that I would wake up from this nightmare. We reached what is known as "Ground Zero." Time stood still as we began digging for survivors. We were asked to report to City Hall. Truck and engine officers were told to form separate lines as firefighters stood by impatiently waiting their assignments. Cut off from outside communications, rumors of more incoming hijacked planes were circulating as F-14 fighter jets screamed above the smoke. Seven World Trade Center collapsed behind us, and we were chased by an avalanche of debris and blinded by the smoke. Unable to regroup, we freelanced the burning buildings and rubble for hours, yielding no results of survivors. Exhausted and beaten, I felt empty and defeated. I questioned how it was possible to save no one out of this mass of victims.The next day my wife received a call from the wife of a missing firefighter. The numbers of the missing began to change to names. On our return, night was transformed to day under glaring spotlights. I gazed up at this mountain of rubble, and I felt helpless and small. We all held onto the hope that we would pull a survivor from this smoldering tomb of twisted steel. As we dug above what I believed was an elevator car, I envisioned in my mind opening the hatch and seeing my friend, Frank Esposito of Engine 235,saying "Dan, what took you so long?" As the dream faded, I continued to pray for hope. Two horns blasted. We were told to come down from the pile of rubble. There was danger of further collapse. When we returned, cadaver dogs were digging everywhere. The dogs seemed confused. Death was all around us.On Sept. 11 we believed that over 6,000 people lost their lives. The New York City Fire Department lost 12 percent of its men working that day. All of the rescue workers, who made the ultimate sacrifice to save others, also laid down their lives for this great country. Now my heart and eyes fill with emotion every time I hear "God Bless America." Fire Department Chaplain [Rev. Mychal] Judge, was one of the first to die. I believed it was so that he could smooth out the jagged edges of our pain. Father Judge will be at the gates of heaven to personally escort every individual in, with a smile on his face and these words on his lips: "Lord, take me where you want me to go. Let me meet who you want me to meet. Tell me what you want me to say and keep me out of your way." I was moved by the outpouring of support from everyone. I say "Thank you" to all the volunteers, some of who traveled great distances to get here. "Thank you" to all the ironworkers and wreckers. "Thank you" for all the firm handshakes and the much-needed hugs.