I have a friend who was an EMT down there. He talks about going to Iraq later with the army, looking for a pound of flesh, killing an enemy, getting hurt by a suicide bomber, but he doesn't talk about September 11.
Another friend was a fireman uptown. He likes sharing bawdy stories about his days with the department, on trips to Vegas and other shenanigans, and will talk about his past job, finding dead children and pets in apartments gutted by fire sparked by crack pipes or stupidity. But he's never talked about September 11.
All I did that day was walk down from midtown to as close to the Financial District as the police would let me go, which at that point was Houston Street, so I could finally find my wife and get her out of Manhattan. We had no idea how we would do it, but we did it.
I think that's all I have to say about it, except -- all those Americans who promised they would never, ever forget? The 343 firemen and FD EMTs, the 23 officers of the NYPD, the 37 PATH and New Jersey police officers, and the nine others who ran in while everyone else was running out, and paid the ultimate price? America said it would never, ever forget.
It took less than 20 years.
2 comments:
Thanks for this post, Fred. Nobody seems to remember. Nobody seems to even give a damn anymore.
I remember. I give a damn. I remember the fear when I could not contact my wife for hours after the second plane hit; she worked at 1 WFC across the street. I remember calling her over & over after the first plane hit, telling her to get the hell out, & her telling me that her company security people said it was OK to stay where she was. I remember watching her personality change drastically over the months & years afterward...& I remember getting served with divorce papers for no real reason a few years later. Oh, I remember all of it, my friends.
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