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Posted on 10/30/2001 6:21:15 AM PST by All-American Medic

Brothers and Sisters, Good Morning. I have been asked by a few FReepers to attempt to put into words the devastation that I have witnessed at Ground Zero, I dont know if that is entirely possible but here goes. I attempt to do this to counteract all the pictures of Afghanis supposedly homeless due to our bombing campaign. On September 11, 2001. I was at my residence just after putting my eldest son on the school bus around 8:35 am. I was enjoying a bright beautiful morning playing in the backyard with my youngest guy, pushing him on the swings since I was working the evening tour and didnt have to report until 3PM. About 15 minutes later my next door neighbor ran out of her house towards me screaming, "A G-D Plane just hit the World Trade Center" I tried to calm her and reassure her that Im sure it was just a small cessna or commuter plane and that everything would be fine. I then went inside to turn on Fox News, then watched the second plane go into 2 World Trade. I quickly put my son in the car, called my wife then removed my eldest son from school and dropped both off at my wifes employment. I began to drive to work on the New York State Thruway, I fell in behind the speeding caravan of brothers and sisters who live in my area all of us driving like Dale Earnhardt with dash lights and sirens screaming. When we hit the Tappan Zee bridge, we could look south down the river to Manhattan which was almost totally obscured by smoke.

Arriving at work, we began the trek into the city, down the West Side Highway. As we got to 34th street, Tower Two came down. We stopped the car and began to run down 12th Ave toward the WTC. We got to the Christopher Street piers just as Tower One came down. As the building fell, bodies fell faster. Arriving at the site, the first sound we heard in the darkness of the dust filled sky and ankle deep ash on the street, was the eerie sound of firefighters "help" beepers designed to let other firefighters know that a brother is in trouble. Hundreds of these cricket like peeps ringing in yr ears. Covering our faces with our shirts, (masks hadnt arrived on scene yet) we began to move through the empty courtyard and resturants of #1 Liberty Plaza, the thing that struck me the most was all the half eaten breakfasts sitting on empty tables, with shoes and purses discarded like garbage. Stepping throught the shattered glass doors we happened on to the most surreal sight, these eyes have ever seen. Once where spires of shining glass and steel had stood, lay a twisted mass of paper, dust, glass and smoke. We began to pick our way through the debris field, coming upon a firetruck half buried in debris. Four men were in that Truck, all of them beyond help. Body parts lay scattered for blocks, a hand here, a foot there, and everyonce in a while you would find a partially intact body, most likely one of those who chose to commit suicide by jumping off the top of the Towers, instead of burning to death. I cannot even assume to total all the parts of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands and children we found. It was a scene straight from Hell.

Over the next ten days, we dug, cut, scooped and dumped tons of debris, working to give one more family closure, hoping against reason to stick a hand in a shaft in the debris, praying to God that someone grabbed it back. But of course that never happened. So we continued, to give one more American the ability to be buried with dignity instead of being entombed in the mass grave of hate. We found shoes, shirts, coffee cups and pictures, lots of pictures. I think in some ways those were the worst, because in front of you, you saw happy times in the midst of misery and despair. We looked hard at the pictures to see if there was anyone that we may have pulled from the rubble, to see if we could identify any bodies. We found fingers and toes, hands and feet, and various other unidentifiable parts of Americans. They pulled us from time to time, when the buildings above us began to shake and rumble. We would take a break and lay down on the sidewalk or try to eat. Walking up Vescey street one day, I think it was Friday the 14th, I tripped over a womans high heel, one of hundreds discarded on the street, so I figured id just toss it into a commercial dumpster that was on the street. Then I realized it wasnt empty.

During the next days and weeks we kept digging, interuppted only by unstable building around us threating to come down, and of course by President Bush's rousing address from the top of the firetruck we found the first day. You worked standing on debris which is the graves of thousands of people, including for us, friends and family members. You work hoping to find something to give one more family closure. You eat when yr hungry, drink when yr thirsty and sleep if you can. The smell still permeates the air, Death, burning insulation and rubber and the stench of the dust mix into a volatile assault on the senses. This is our reality on a daily basis. So remember, when the media feeds you the pictures of the "suffering" In Afghanistan, Let them not forget the Hell on earth in Lower Manhattan, NYC. God Bless all of you for your kind words and Prayers and GOD BLESS AMERICA

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