The Smithsonian is collecting 9/11 memories for the National 9/11 Memorial.
http://makehistory.national911memorial.org/
This is my submission, more or less. They may or may not use it, but I'll share it with you here.
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The worker in the cubicle next to me poked her head up and said, "Come here and listen to the radio- you need to hear this."
The first plane had hit.
Our office was soon gathered around the radio, listening to updates- then came the news of a second plane. I grabbed my jacket and told my boss I had no idea when I'd be back. "Go, go," he said.
I don't remember the drive, but I made it home, changed into my uniform, grabbed my gear and was at the local National Guard armory before the second tower fell.
In September, 2001 I was a brand new Second Lieutenant in the New York Army National Guard. I hit the ground running as an officer- my first major assignment came when the upstate Guard units finally began being rotated into Ground Zero in October. I left Rochester with elements of the 642nd Aviation Support Battalion and the 142nd Aviation. We processed in at Camp Smith, NY, were briefed on the Rules of Engagement (ROE) and shipped over to FT Hamilton in Brooklyn to be put into teams to work the site. Our mission was perimeter security. At FT Hamilton, I was told I'd be the OIC of the night shift, which was composed of NY Army and Air National Guard men and women, as well as Naval Militia sailors (Seebees).
When we got to the site we were told "Ground Zero" was not what it was called, but the workers referred to the site as "The Red Zone". I was issued maps and we set our troops out around the perimeter. While I was the OIC of my group, there were several majors and captains working the night shift in the Guard command post, which comforted me. My job was to make sure my troops were in place at posts around the Red Zone, get intel from the command post, disseminate the intel to the troops, and react to any issues that may occur. At the time, no fences were set up around the Red Zone, and a steady flow of workers, police, FDNY, FBI, CIA, etc, etc, were coming and going at all hours. Badged law enforcement officers and firefighters did not need a pass, but all others wore a color-coded access pass (including all military members assigned to the site). Everyone wanted to get close, so lots of people tried to get past the checkpoints, which were manned by a combination of unarmed military, NYPD, NYS Troopers, and Port authority officers. It was not uncommon to have a combination of uniforms at any given site.
As the OIC, I spent a lot of time running around and solving problems. The biggest issue was visiting firefighters and police. They came from all over the world, many having taken red-eye flights and showing up at the Red Zone in dress uniform, trying to find out when services for firefighters or police would take place. Once we checked ID, I'd hand them hard hats and respirators, throw them in the back of an ATV or golf cart, and take them to the FDNY or NYPD command posts. Often, it would take me some time to get there...
I won't tell all the stories here, like dealing with inebriated celebrities or the time the FDNY marched on the Red Zone to protest hour cuts, or the Red Cross stories, or the folks who brought us food or Red Bull, or what the EPA guys said when I asked them about the air quality test results, but one story has to be told here because it can't stay just in my head.
On Sunday, November 11, President Bush was scheduled to visit the Red Zone. All the workers were given that Saturday night off (the first time operations had paused in two months). We perimeter guards had no such special treatment, but it was a slow night. I had to visit the fellows on the south side, and decided to just walk down West Ave to get to them, rather than taking a vehicle.
When I got to the rubble pile, I stopped and looked- nobody was working, it was probably about 0300 or so. I was the only one there, it seemed. Cranes had been set up to pump water on the rubble, which was still smoking two months after 9/11. Bright spotlights shone down on the site.
Spray from the water was struck by the lights and a rainbow stretched between the tower bases.
I have no idea how long I stood there in the quiet, looking at that rainbow. It was like time had stopped, everything had stopped, and it was just me and those remaining in the rubble of the towers. That scene is in my head as fresh now nine years later as it was on Nov 11, 2001.
At the Red Zone I saluted the fallen as they were pulled from the rubble, flags draped over their stretchers. Since then, I've stood at attention and saluted fallen Soldiers and Marines in Iraq and Afghanistan more times than I can remember. In 2008, outside Kabul in Afghanistan, I was in a rest area with a group of officers when an Army Captain I had never seen before came in looking for me. "Are you Captain Milligan?" he said. "I came to see you about..." and he trailed off, staring over my shoulder. "Do you... do you have a pen?" He asked, his voice thick. I handed him one, and he kneeled on the chair next to mine and reached up to the 9/11 tribute flag hanging behind me, the flag printed with all the names of the dead. He circled a woman's name three times, and stepped back to look at the flag. "My sister," he said, then quickly turned and left without saying another word.
All of us remaining sat stock still and stared at the flag until a Lieutenant Colonel broke the silence. "It's easy to forget why we are here," he said.
Not for everyone.
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The flag was in the Tiki Hut, the cigar lounge supported by you through CATS.... Here is is.
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