A Few of FR's Finest....Every Day....911 Week, DAY FIVE 9-13-02

Written by JohnHuang2 with Graphics and Layout by Billie | JohnHuang2

[daisyscarlett]

              

September 11th --
A Day America Must Never Forget

By JohnHuang2

It was early September 11, 2001 -- just another beautiful, sparkling summer morning in America. From Florida's comely, sandy beaches, across the Carolina Smoky Mountains, to sensual Mt. Rainer in Washington State, it was just another typical, uneventful workaday. The roads and highways bustling with rush-hour traffic, factories humming right along, tireless shopkeepers, vendors and farmers were busy as ever.

The imperturbable, mundane serenity augured not a clue of the nightmare to come.

The clock strikes 8:46 a.m. EST. Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, a colossal, titanic explosion rips the heart of New York's financial center. A Boeing 767 passenger jet had just plunged into the World Trade Center's north tower. Instantly, a hellish fireball erupts, engulfing the skyscraper's upper-third, the towering flames scorching the morning sky. The explosion's unbridled power and fury were felt miles from the infernal epicenter.

Then, minutes later, yet another jet from hell rumbles over the trembling city, flying low as it eerily swoops towards the embattled WTC. At

9:03 a.m., the gruesome horror is repeated; this time the south tower is struck.

The world knew then this was no accident, no unlucky mishaps. This was terrorism -- the evil misdeed of savages.

But, more than that, these were acts of war. America was under attack.

As if to remove any doubt, reports of yet another kamikaze strike crosses the wires -- barely an hour after the south tower was struck. This time, the nation's military nerve center was the target. At 9:43 a.m., American Airlines Flight 77 crashes into the Pentagon in Washington.

Then, reports of United Airlines Flight 93, and still another hijacking. At 10:03 a.m. a Boeing 757, bound originally for San Francisco, slams into a field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, killing all 40 on board.

All told, the most barbaric acts of domestic terrorism snuffed out the lives of more than 3,000 men, women and children. These innocents became the war's first casualties.

The unspeakable horror and agony that day had broken the quietude and serenity we had long casually taken for granted.

America would never be the same again, her innocence ravished and raped that black September morning.

Suddenly, bursting before our eyes, what hitherto had seemed beyond unimaginable. The nation, whipsawed in terror and sorrow, stumbled and staggered.

Gone forever was our sense of sheltered invulnerability. The unfettered brutality and virulence (common-place in Bogota and Beirut, perhaps), could never befall on American soil -- or so we thought.

That indomitable aura of invincibility, like the World Trade Center itself, lay in ruins.

Amid the seared and parched remains, the smoldering corpses, the shrieks of agony and bellowing cries for help from under the sizzling rubble, as jolted rescuers, shrouded by plumes of blinding smoke, scurried heroically in search for survivors, the inevitable question "why?" ricochet across the lengths and breadths of our shaken land.

What kind of animals would deign to perpetrate such dastardly, despicable horror?

The answer would soon be forthcoming, as the trail of evidence pointed inexorably towards an all-too-familiar name, Osama bin Laden -- perennial enemy of the United States.

The shadowy, elusive Saudi national had long ago become a household name, having been the terror mastermind behind a deadly series of devastating attacks in the 90s, involving hundreds of casualties -- all under the unwatchful eye of the Clinton (mal) administration. The pathetic, halfhearted/half-baked 'military' 'retaliations' which followed would only embolden bin Laden and his al-Qaeda camarilla of war criminals.

While Clinton diehards deny it, September 11 has become an indelible blotch on the Clinton "legacy" -- a stain far more tarnishing than Lewinsky.

Today, exactly one year to the day after the harrowing carnage that awful morning, we commemorate the victims of 9/11 -- the more than 3,000 innocent men, women and children who perished that infamous day.

Three-thousand lives pulverized suddenly, senselessly.

Three-thousand hopes, 3,000 dreams, 3,000 candles of life extinguished, for no reason.

Among the victims, someone's father, someone's mother, someone's son or daughter, aunt or uncle or dear friend.

But all of them, fellow human beings.

A part of America died with them that terrible day.

September 11th was a cruel and vicious attack on all of us -- as Americans.

September 11th reminds us all of our shared humanity, and our common mortality.

The stupendous and miraculous out-pouring of love and support from people all across America during those darkest hours stands as living testament to the greatness of America itself. Our resilience as a people is what makes us uniquely American.

Our enemies may bomb us, hijack our planes, topple our buildings, but our shared sense of community, our effervescence and our love for each other can never say die.

This indomitable spirit moved the gallant heroes of hijacked Flight 93 to fight back, sparing the capital even greater carnage and destruction. Todd Beamer, who led the passenger revolt, epitomizes the courage and spirit and valor of America. This nation will never forget him.

The invincible spirit of the firefighters saved countless lives that day. The stories of heroism, of courage overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds would take more than a lifetime to recount. These brave men boldly defied death in the face that day, again and again.

Take the story of the men of Ladder Company 6. It's a story of how six New York firefighters were miraculously saved from the jaws of death -- all because of Josephine Harris, a woman they call their very own 'Guardian Angel'.

Stationed in downtown Manhattan, Ladder 6 heard the harrowing explosion when the first jet slammed the north tower. "A plane has gone into the World Trade Center!", boomed the intercom.

Ladder 6 rushed to the scene. Three minutes later, they saw "pieces of aircraft lying on the sidewalk and there were computer monitors smashing in the street", firefighter Billy Butler told the Guardian newspaper.

Butler, a seven-year veteran on the force, recalls how they "waited for the debris to stop falling and grabbed our stuff and made a beeline for the front door."

Captain John Jonas told Dateline NBC that, as they entered "One World Trade Center, the [north] tower, there were two badly burned people right there at the lobby door."

"We were in the lobby when the second plane hit", recounted Sal D' Agostino. "You could hear a rumble and an explosion. And from the windows in the World Financial Center across the street, the reflection of the explosion came off of that, came off of those windows", he said.

Climbing stairwell B, each carrying 110 lbs of gear on their backs, Ladder 6 reached the 27th floor when suddenly they heard a "rumble that nobody's ever heard before -- a 110-story building coming down", Captain Jonas told Dateline. The south tower had just crumbled to earth. They were ordered to evacuate -- immediately.

It was then when Ladder 6 came upon Josephine, a Grandmother who had already climbed down 46 floors from her office at the Port Authority.

Captain Jonas described his reaction to Dateline this way: "And Billy's my biggest, and strongest guy. I said, 'Billy, just put her arm around you, and just, we'll do the best we can'. And she was having a hard time. She was elderly, and she wasn't walking very well."

"We started down with her and it was a slow process because she was extremely fatigued, her legs were collapsing," Billy Butler tells the Guardian.

Butler: "We made it down to the fourth floor. We took two steps down the stairs and the whole building started to collapse. It threw us down to half landing. I have never been in a tornado or an earthquake but I think it was like a combination of both. You could see the stuff coming down past your face and the next minute it was going up past your face."

"My lower legs were covered with debris", Butler added, "and as I picked it off I heard something. It was this woman Josephine, she was laying at my feet. Then some of the other guys started getting up. The dust and the smoke did not clear for an hour and half."

Mr Butler: "We didn't give a Mayday initially because we thought we could walk out of there like gentlemen. Then we gave a Mayday and nobody answered, we couldn't get a signal. The chief finally ... got a message out. Captain Jonas told them that they were in the north tower's stairway B. The reply came back, 'where's the north tower?"

Richie Picciotto, the Batallion Chief, told Dateline that "there was no way out. We were encapsulated. So even though we were

alive, there's 105 floors above us."

In fact, as Dateline reports, little did they know "those 105 floors were now in pieces all around them. The men of Ladder 6 had survived the collapse but were now marooned in one of the few fragments of the building still standing -- a darkened stairwell. And surrounding them, a craggy wasteland shrouded in smoke."

In his Mayday call, Captain Jonas kept "telling them, 'we're in World Trade Center One. You enter through the glass doors, you make a right, stairway B is the first stairway on the left. We're on -- between the second and the fourth floor. And my five year old daughter could follow those directions."

But Butler has a better idea. He borrows a cell phone from a Port Authority police officer hunkering with them and calls home.

Bill Butler: "My wife answered the phone. She said how are you doing. She was asking a lot of questions. I said, listen to me. And she started to whimper a little bit, and I said, ?You can?t cry, do not cry right now.' She actually is writing this stuff down, so I just told her call the fire house and tell the guys where we?re at."

Then, suddenly, miraculously, "everything cleared just for a moment. And we could see we were at the top of this debris pile. And I'm thinking, this is going to be OK, you know? This, we're going to be OK here."

Richie Picciotto: "There?s light there. I thought it was an optical illusion. There?s light, we?re safe. There?s life. There?s light."

Dateline recounts how "Chief Picciotto followed the light to an opening they had not seen before, climbed out and secured a rope to show others the way. Still sounding his bullhorn siren, the chief was soon discovered by the men of Ladder Company 43. The firefighters could now climb out. But what about Josephine Harris?"

"I knew that we couldn?t get Josephine out by ourselves", Butler recalls. They stayed with Josephine till she was rescued.

Butler explains the remarkable irony to the Guardian this way: "This woman was soooo slow, but she was a guardian angel sent to us. It was because she slowed us up that we ended up in that void. If we had gotten out of that building we may have sought refuge in our fire truck which was flattened. I saw it the other day and it's just one twisted piece of metal."

Folks, the story of Ladder 6 is the story of America, a tribute to this great and wonderful country of ours.

'But that was a year ago', the cynic scoffs. 'Today, that spirit is dead'.

Nonsense.

America is roaring back, thanks to the leadership of our President, George W. Bush. And thanks to the courage and bravery of the troops he leads, our enemies are either dead, captured or on the run.

"We'll succeed," thundered the Commander-in-Chief at a White House ceremony in March marking six months since the September 11th attacks.

"There will be a day when the organized threat against America, our friends and allies is broken," the President continued. "I see a peaceful world beyond the war on terror, and with courage and unity, we are building that world together."

Over the site of the World Trade Center, two beams of light tower defiantly into New York's night sky, a touching memorial to the victims of 9/11. But more than just columns of light, those beams piercing boldly the darkness are unflinching towers of courage, towers of strength, towers of firmness and undaunted resolve. To our enemies, these poignant symbols send a message, loud and clear: You will never defeat us, we will never surrender, through fire and water we will triumph over you, whatever it takes.

To the victims and heroes of September 11th; to the firefighters, policemen, emergency/rescue workers -- to all who were taken from us that day -- these radiant beams illuminating the heavens are our way of saying, 'We will never ever forget you.'

America must never forget. ~ JohnHuang2

THIS WEEK'S THREADS

09-09-02   911 Week, Day ONE
09-10-02   911 Week, Day TWO
09-11-02   911 Week, Day THREE
09-12-02   911 Week, Day FOUR
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[daisyscarlett]

[daisyscarlett]

President and Mrs Bush walk down the steps to greet and address leaders during a United States Reception at The World Financial Center in New York, Thursday, Sept. 12, 2002. Raising the specter of war, President Bush told skeptical world leaders Thursday to confront the "grave and gathering danger" of Saddam Hussein's Iraq, or stand aside as the United States acts. Hesitant allies asked him not to go it alone. ( AP Photo/Doug Mills)

[daisyscarlett]

It's been a long week.....

[Flyer]

Hey, I get to be first! But you caught me without a picture ready. I'll be back. . .

[Mama_Bear]

Good morning Flyer, 'morning daisy. I'm about ready to head off to bed. See you tomorrow.....oops! It is tomorrow. :-)

[Flyer]

I'm just about out of here for the day, so I'll rinse the coffee pot and make y'all a fresh pot.

---

God Bless America, land of the free, home of the brave. . .

-----

Sunrise - Anahuac, Texas

-----

[Beep]

To: All that I hold so dear, and love as brothers and sisters!

A Message for Our Time

By the American writer William Faulkner upon acceptance of the Nobel prize for literature, Stockholm, Dec 10, 1950.

... the basest of all things is to be afraid ...

I decline to accept the end of man.

I believe that man will not merely endure: He will prevail.

... because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.

I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work--a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand where I am standing.

Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only one question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid: and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed--love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, and victories without hope and worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.

Until he learns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

AMEN! And AMEN!

And now, to my dear friends who have asked about me (and new friends I have yet to meet, and thus have not! *G*), thank you for thinking of me and for remembering me in your prayers. I will write more tomorrow -- later today! *G* -- as my eyes are tired, and I see three of everything at the moment!

I have not been faring well, and have been dreading the one-year mark. . . . I lived through that, and now have only to make it through brain surgery next month. I am scared more and more with each passing day. I still remember the pain (I still deeply remember the pain) of the first brain surgery, and I feel unready and unsteady about going back for more so soon. True -- it has been postponed twice already, but now it's a reality, and it's getting ever closer. In the still of the night, when (almost) all the world is sleeping, I think to myself --

"What?! AM I NUTS?!"

That point can be debated later. *G* My nystagmus (the muk that screws up my eyesight) gets really bad when I'm tired. If I get this posted without making huge boo-boos, I will be stunned.

I'm doing as well as can be expected. I think of you often, and I miss you terribly. I recently discovered that October 16th (the date of my surgery) was the original date of my surgery -- an exact year later. Twilighty, huh?!

I will talk with you all soon, I hope. You all are extra special, and I'm so glad I know you.

Mush love,
Beep

[whoever]

click on picture

Greetings, my FRiends. I am so happy to be back, if only on a limited basis.

As you learned, I have been seriously ill. I am improving, by God's grace, and slowly gaining strength. I hope to post an occasional thing or two. Since I usually get here after the basic conversational part of this thread, I am prevented from participating in that fine, warm, friendly part of this forum.

I want to thank each of your for you prayers and interest. It meant so very much to me knowing you were behind me while I was so sick. I am sorry if I worried you, but I was unable to let you know myself. You all are truly the Finest Freepers and FRiends.

This is on my heart today and I would like to share it with you:

Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me!
For my soul trusts in You;
And in the shadow of Your wings I will make my refuge Until these calamities have passed by. . . .
I will praise You, O Lord, among the peoples;
I will sing to You among the nations.
For Your mercy reaches unto the heavens, And Your truth unto the clouds.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
Let Your glory be above all the earth
------------ (Psalm 57:1, 9-11)

I hope to return later to respond to any comments.

Thanks again to each of you.

[whoever]

Skinny, I cannot begin to tell you how much I have missed your warm, friendly, inspiring posts to me. I have thought about you so much these weeks. I do hope you have not changed and will continue with your loving posts.

[Mama_Bear]

Look who's back! Whoever and Beep! Praise God! Two of our FReeper FRiends are back with us.

Oh, happy day!

Prayers going up for both of you.

[Beep]

P.S.

BEEPBEEP!

More love,
Beep!

[Beep]

**SMOOCH** before I go to sleep (I hope!). RoadRunner was just begging to be posted, so I said, "why not?" My sense of humor is still just as warped! Sorry to say, I don't think this brain surgery will change that either!

;-}

Love ya Mama_B!

[Pippin]

Good Morning, Beep!

[Pippin]

Good Morning,Who!

[Pippin]

WELCOME BACK!!!!

[Pippin]

GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY!!!!!!

=^)

[dansangel]

My goodness! Y'all beat ME up this fine morning! :-)

I'm hoping you all have a wonderful TGIF. It has been a very emotionally stressful week. Thank God for Free Republic and especially for "A Few Of FR's Finest!"

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{HUGS}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}} to all of you!

[ValerieUSA]

Good Friday Morning Fine FReepers

[ValerieUSA]

They beat you up? How terrible! They ought to be ashamed!

[JustAmy]

Welcome Back!!!!
We've missed you! I didn't post your entire joke book; just half of it. LOL