I Have Something to Say
9/11...
Some people have asked me tell my story, so here it is.
I was assigned to a multi agency Task Force whose headquarters were located at 100 Centre Street, in lower Manhattan. I'll skip all the details of that morning, because it really was a typical day until 8:46am. After Flight 11 struck WTC 1, we moved down to the Command post located in the Lobby of 1. We were then tasked to go over to the World Financial Center across West Street, to help evacuate that complex. As we were evacuating that area, I moved to the front of the building near the Wintergarden to clear it. A heard a jet revving it's engines and looked up to see 175 hit WTC 2. As the fireball came out, flaming jet fuel landed on the street below, nearly incinerating a woman in front of me, that sight and smell lingers..
After getting her out, and into an ambulance. I went back in to WFC to make sure no one went out the front of the building due to the jumpers. It's amazing how your mind processes what it's seeing, so you can still function and maintain. As we were continuing the evacuation, I was sent back across to WTC 1 to see EMS and gather some first aid supplies. As I was standing in the Lobby, the ground began to shake and the rumbling got louder..everyone around me began to run...I ran and dove under an escalator cut out. Eventually the room filled with dust and debris. I could hear people screaming but could not see anything or anyone. I followed the sunlight out into the street exiting through a large glass window that had been shattered.
The radio began come alive with mayday and 10 13 calls. We were ordered to rally to get a head count at the corner of Vescey and West Streets. As we began to form up and plan, the rumbling started again. I looked up and saw the television antenna on top of number one begin to sway back and forth. I then turned and ran down the street toward the Hudson River all I could think of was I did not want to burn to death. I knew I was going to die, I just did not want to burn to death. My thought process led me to believe that if I made it to the Hudson River, I could swim to New Jersey. as I began to run, I looked over my shoulder and could see a large cloud of debris chasing me. At that point I realized that I was going to die, so I began to pray as I ran, As the cloud caught me, I was able to drop and roll underneath a large van used by a News Network. Laying there and listening to the debris hit around me and on top of me all I could do was think about my kids and pray. That is the last conscious memory I have, until I woke up in NYU Hospital, three days later. I am putting this out there, so people can understand no matter how bleak a situation looks there's always hope. I am no hero, and I'm uncomfortable with the term. The heroes are the men and women that I dug out and buried in the following months. Please never forget the Fallen. Thank you for reading this.
Some people have asked me tell my story, so here it is.
I was assigned to a multi agency Task Force whose headquarters were located at 100 Centre Street, in lower Manhattan. I'll skip all the details of that morning, because it really was a typical day until 8:46am. After Flight 11 struck WTC 1, we moved down to the Command post located in the Lobby of 1. We were then tasked to go over to the World Financial Center across West Street, to help evacuate that complex. As we were evacuating that area, I moved to the front of the building near the Wintergarden to clear it. A heard a jet revving it's engines and looked up to see 175 hit WTC 2. As the fireball came out, flaming jet fuel landed on the street below, nearly incinerating a woman in front of me, that sight and smell lingers..
After getting her out, and into an ambulance. I went back in to WFC to make sure no one went out the front of the building due to the jumpers. It's amazing how your mind processes what it's seeing, so you can still function and maintain. As we were continuing the evacuation, I was sent back across to WTC 1 to see EMS and gather some first aid supplies. As I was standing in the Lobby, the ground began to shake and the rumbling got louder..everyone around me began to run...I ran and dove under an escalator cut out. Eventually the room filled with dust and debris. I could hear people screaming but could not see anything or anyone. I followed the sunlight out into the street exiting through a large glass window that had been shattered.
The radio began come alive with mayday and 10 13 calls. We were ordered to rally to get a head count at the corner of Vescey and West Streets. As we began to form up and plan, the rumbling started again. I looked up and saw the television antenna on top of number one begin to sway back and forth. I then turned and ran down the street toward the Hudson River all I could think of was I did not want to burn to death. I knew I was going to die, I just did not want to burn to death. My thought process led me to believe that if I made it to the Hudson River, I could swim to New Jersey. as I began to run, I looked over my shoulder and could see a large cloud of debris chasing me. At that point I realized that I was going to die, so I began to pray as I ran, As the cloud caught me, I was able to drop and roll underneath a large van used by a News Network. Laying there and listening to the debris hit around me and on top of me all I could do was think about my kids and pray. That is the last conscious memory I have, until I woke up in NYU Hospital, three days later. I am putting this out there, so people can understand no matter how bleak a situation looks there's always hope. I am no hero, and I'm uncomfortable with the term. The heroes are the men and women that I dug out and buried in the following months. Please never forget the Fallen. Thank you for reading this.