You killed my cousin. Here is an account of the last twenty minutes of his life:
Corroborating the observations of Paul Mallery’s 10 House rescue team (across the street from Tim’s position, in direct line of sight with 4 Truck), Tim noticed that near the end, probably as the upper floors began to slip and to crack open, people were indeed swarming out of windows above the fire. One of them had fallen upon Dan Suhr of Engine 216, killing him in an instant. Looking to his left, Tim saw 4 Truck parked on the sidewalk, just east of the Liberty Street entrance. It’s driver, Michael Lynch, was struggling with a Hurst tool – trying to free the “jaws of life” from the rig, so he could pry open the doors of the crushed elevator, and free Linda’s friends. He was having difficulty with the heavy, motor end of the tool, so he called to Tim for help. Tim started running toward the rig, but another man beat him to it, and saved his life. “Never mind,” Michael called out. “We’ve got it.” Considering the danger that was raining down and exploding all around them, Tim would recall later that the exchange was extraordinarily calm and confident. The men had known, on first viewing of the inferno, what they were stepping into. When Tim met his friend Terry Hatton, from Rescue 1, they had hugged, and kissed on the cheek, and Terry had said, “I love you, brother. It might be the last time I see you.”
The last time Tim saw Michael Lynch, the driver was towing his Hurst tool into the lobby with two other firemen. Tim then sprinted west along Liberty Street, as fast as he could, to the shelter of the pedestrian bridge at west and Liberty, in search of an EMS crew. There, he began assembling a team, to return with him to the South Tower lobby and help him to evacuate the growing number of burn victims he had seen gathering there, and falling from exhaustion. He would need fifteen minutes to pull a team in; but time was getting away from him. The clock had, by now, touched 9:50 A.M.
At 9:59:04, the upper thirty floors of the Tower snapped eastward, like the initial side-snap of an ax-felled tree. During the first second-and-a-half, it’s horizontal velocity reached thirty-five miles (49 kilometers) per hour; but three seconds after that, its vertical velocity was nearing 120 miles (197 kilometers) per hour, quickly exceeding all horizontal momentum, so that the structure seemed simply to implode. Gathering mass and strength as it compressed earthward, the precursor wave passed through the Ladder 4 crew in a chip of time measurable only in hundredths of seconds. The rescuers might have heard its approach, but they had ceased to exist before their nerve endings could begin to feel the wave, much less to actually transmit any sensations from it. An alarming roar, a burst of pressurized air, a surge of adrenaline – and, then, instantaneous non-existence.
God bless your cousin and all the rescuers who
were involved that day.
My B-I-L and many aquaintences
were also murdered on 9/11.
This fight against the Ground Zero mosque has
become a general outcry of
“NO YOU DON’T” across America.
We’ve seen what’s happened
in Europe, and we do not want these
pigs in our backyard anymore.
I have no respect and little tolerance for
ANY of these ‘people’ who subscribe to this
‘religion’ of islam.
I am as rude as I can be to those I see in public,
and I would spit on any of them I see worshipping
their ‘god’ allah, who is Satan himself.
‘Moderates’.... hah! Screw them all, and
I pray for those who are misguided and
need a good dose of the Holy Spirit to
change their minds.
There are no words.