The deafening silence would draw upon us as whistles would sound to halt in place as dogs and sonar apparatus would detect sounds of survival. The intense prayers and hope of answers had drawn upon everyone there. I can hardly breathe with emotion as your inner strength wanted so desperately to help. The firefighters' special rescue teams were truly amazing in the deepest words anyone can express. To be a subject to their heroism was like a privilege to be in their presence. I also would praise again all the participants in these early days of this nightmare we were living in.
I can feel the agony of desperation under my feet as I struggled to breathe and contain my nausea of the incomprehensible odor and cloud mist of burning rubble, which seemed to engulf us all. It was given to keep those feelings and complaints to yourself, knowing what sets forth in front of you. A never-ending mountain of pain and suffering this tragedy has put upon all those who were victims of this cruel and violent display of hate. I personally felt only this time of my life a sense of dignity to help and do my job, exhausting as it was, as I am just one morsel of sand in this enormous catastrophe. I witnessed heroism each and every hour I was there. It came in waves of hope and anguish.
I want you all to know who is so kind enough to read this blog I created to understand that feeling of pride as well as the horror we all were witnessing before our eyes, even if you are too young to remember this event or were not there but watching the broadcasts each and every minute it was televised on every network everywhere around the world. That the little guy who was not looking for praise or looking to be patted on the back. That we were there doing every job we could do in an attempt to help all those victims and the victims' families each and every moment that whistle stopped blowing.
I remember watching how incredibly the ironworkers took the realms of skills and strength they were gifted with to clear surmountable obstacles and twisted steel, preventing continual rescue efforts. Hundreds of tough rugged men and women hanging from rafters, communicating like surgical doctors performing difficult surgery. Not in any way regarding their own personal risk they were taking to complete the impossible. Search and rescue teams from all over the country and afar started arriving, and the F-14 fighter jets would pass over our heads in securing the perimeter and further protect the unknown of what happened or maybe still could happen. As those jets passed every 15 minutes, a roar of endurance would enter your tired body, gasping for water and clean air. You were in the thick of it, but you were in it for the victims, the families of those victims, and above all the anticipation to go home each day to your own families and thank the stars that you could.
I'll probably say this a lot as I write my story. In writing this, I feel and see all the emotions and horrors of pain I endured and was subject to at ground zero. My own PTSD from this event for many years prevented me from discussing or even admitting I was part of 9/11 because although what I experienced was real, it was chilling to deal with or discuss. For many years after my time there, I felt a strange worker abandonment. Meaning I was not a fireman, I was not a policeman, or part of a rescue team, an iron worker, or any special force of notoriety. I was a guy who took on a job from a little communications company in Long Island, NY. I, amongst many who did their best and gave it their all to help defend the honor of all of us who wanted but could not be there.
I will engage the horrible ill effects this tragedy and 9/11 sickness has put upon me. I want to engage you as I only can. That is by the blinding truth and un-political view of a tragic event on humanity we all endured through this given time. I again thank you all for your interest. Until next time…