Our office was adjacent to the auditorium that in on the 5th floor, inside ring. I was sentenced to a life of cubicle living, which for a captain, could have been a lot worse in a land dominated by generals and colonels. I worked with a bunch of civilian TV pros, and Soldiers and NCOs who were expert videographers/editors. I was the least qualified person in the office, with television training consisting of a four-hour block of instruction during my introductory public affairs training. I guess I was the resident Army officer figurehead for the office.
On the morning of 9-11 I arrived to the office as I usually did--sometime around 0800-0830 (I can't remember specifically when). As I sat at my desk getting ready for the day, one of the sergeants poked his head around the wall and asked, "Hey sir, did you see what happened in New York?"
I hadn't, but he quickly brought me up to speed on the first plane impacting the World Trade building. Being an aviator, I immediately thought an air traffic controller somewhere made a tragic mistake and vectored a plane into the building. I was saddened by the accident, but terrorism was not my first thought.
Shortly afterward, that NCO ran back to my desk from his perch in the editing bay. He quickly told me about plane #2, as I followed him to the bank of televisions. We daily recorded news broadcasts for every network 24/7, making the tapes available to senior leaders in the building in case they needed to see a particular newscast or interview.
As I watched the reporting on 6-8 different TVs, the plane hitting the buildings over and over again in a gut-wrenching replay, I began to feel queasy; not wanting to view any more of the carnage. I left the soundproof bay and returned to my desk.
Soon after settling back into my desk, I first felt a tremor shake the foundations of the building. I heard a low ominous rumble of an explosion as I shot my head around my cubicle to look across the hall. The windows visible from my desk peered into the center courtyard of the Pentagon. From that vantage point I saw the blue sky fill with a billowing mass of an orange fireball which was slowly engulfed in black smoke. We'd been hit!
I jumped to my feet and sprinted back to the editing bay to find everyone still staring at the TV, oblivious to the events unfolding around them. "A bomb just went off in the center courtyard!," I loudly exclaimed.
All I got in return were dumbfounded stares, as if purple horns were spontaneously growing out of my head. It was only after I ordered, "Let's go!," did the group begin to move to the door with a purpose.
Sgt. 1st Class Tim Magee was the NCOIC, and he and I both stood by the door to the office as we counted heads, ensuring no one was left behind. I had the presence of mind to lock the door, not sure why it mattered at that point, then we followed our crew down the stairs to the exit that faced the physical fitness center and the parking lot.
On the previous Thursday, we had just rehearsed our emergency exit procedures for the building. With that memory still fresh in our minds, we left the building and assembled in our rally area in an orderly fashion.
As I crossed the walkway that spanned the roadway underneath I glanced back at the tower of smoke coming from the opposite side of the building. I was immediately dropped to my knees at the gravity of the situation as I prayed for protection for myself and the now exposed thousands who were milling around in the parking area.
Like many others I whipped out my cell phone to call my wife, let her know I was alive, but with all cell towers jammed I was unable to let her know of my safety until about 3p.m. that afternoon.
We had a remote TV crew that operated out of Ft Myers just a few miles from the Pentagon. We made contact with them and rallied together as we made our way around the building to begin the video documentation of the events.
Tim Magee and I were stopped by an outer cordon of FBI agents in black nylon windbreakers. They allowed the cameramen to move forward t begin their work, but we had to stay behind--well away from the action, only able to see the smoke and damage from afar.
We did, however, see the unusual sight of a while in color Toyota Tercel or Nissan Sentra (or similar vehicle) that was parked alongside the highway where we were halted. The car appeared normal, but quickly you could notice the passenger side window was shattered into the seat. On the dash board was a two foot section of aircraft aluminum, painted white--a piece of the aircraft!
This poor guy was tooling down the highway when the plan came in, hit the building, and splintered into a thousand pieces, sending shards everywhere...even into the front seat of this moving car! I never saw the driver, but my guess is he was pretty shook up.
I made it home that night by a circuitous route, different from my normal bus route. I had to take the Metro in a fashion that took us around the Pentagon station, so I didn't make it hoe until 7:30 or 8 p.m.
It was a long time to be out of my wife's arms; to let her know I was OK.
We went to work the next day. And every day without fail, even though the building kept burning for another 7-10 days. It was our way of sending a message, I guess, but there really wasn't much we could do that first week. The soot laid heavy on all of our sensitive electronic equipment, so the cleanup became the priority for us.
It wasn't until I gathered at church a few nights later, with my buddy and youth minister Wayne Wagner, that I really started feeling exposed and a little frightened. The danger was long past, but as we talked with the youth, in a misguided attempt to calm their fears, I sparked fears of my own.
God protected my that day, but many people lost their lives. I am grateful for His mercy and provision, and pray that we never have to face a day like that again--not the US, not Europe, not the Middle East, no one--never.
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