Posted on 10/04/2001 11:35:56 PM PDT by CommiesOut
This article contains explicit descriptions of the crash site.
Sept. 12
Today was a hard day. ... Charlie Company was there, since noon yesterday, and were assigned to search and recover the dead and any survivors, however unlikely. They hadn't spent much time in the building when we got there, mostly just sitting outside being trained how to handle bodies and avoid disturbing evidence.
The damage to the Pentagon is fairly contained. The plane came in low, over a highway, knocking over a light pole on its approach. ... It hit the side of the Pentagon almost at its center, near the base of the wall.
It skipped up into the air a little, and the nose landed inside the rings in the center of the Pentagon. The outer ring is split open. On the left side, you can see where the building was neatly sheared away along the structural supports. There are desks and filing cabinets still sitting inches from the edge of the open crater created by the impact. Computer monitors are sitting on those desks, intact and undamaged.
On the other side of the hole, the concrete and steel hangs ragged from the edge, at an angle into the hole. There are chunks of concrete blasted from the walls to the sides of the holes ... Windows are either shattered or melted all up and down the building, and there is a huge black scar from smoke and fire all along the side.
There are literally probably thousands of rescue personnel from dozens of state, federal and local agencies on the scene. ... The busiest agencies are the FBI evidence recovery team, the NTSB [National Transportation Safety Board] investigators and the Collapse and Urban Rescue search teams, in addition to the various fire departments with their special apparatus teams and structural engineers. There are human-finding dogs, light and air trucks, Secret Service, Army Corps of Engineers, and teams from every branch of the military there.
The most important agency there, in my opinion, is the Red Cross. Those people are amazing! They don't just supply blood and blankets. There was somebody coming around offering me water every 20-30 minutes. ...
The first thing my platoon did was to fill and move tons of sand bags, to create drainage areas for all the water they were pumping into the building to soak the hot spots. The water has to be pumped out so the recovery teams can start working. ... Tonight, they should start cutting away the rubble. After that, the recovery teams should start pulling out most of the bodies.
The plane caused fires that burned incredibly hot, supposedly as hot as 1,200 degrees ...
There are pieces of the plane all over the place. We also had to improve a drainage trench that had not been dug deep and wide enough to accommodate the water that had flown through the building. The stench was horrible. There was no doubt what that water had washed over on its way out of the building. There are so many surreal things that I saw today ...
Everyone there is working as hard as they can on what they are able to do at the moment. Everyone is helping everyone else deal with it. There is a small army of military chaplains there, providing counseling service in a large "grieving tent," and wandering around, talking one on one with rescue workers. ... Charlie Company, the recovery group, will be relieved tomorrow morning, supposedly. I report back for duty at the Pentagon at 6 a.m. I hope we aren't relieving them ...
Sept. 13
Today was a lot slower. ... I only went on one detail all day. The rest of the day was spent either in the staging area, sleeping, or in line for ID badges ...
There is, of course a lot of anger here, as I am sure there is around the country. I've talked to people who say we should, "... keep these people out of the country." I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone angrily proclaim that if someone can't speak the language, then they aren't an American yet, and that if we would be a little more selective about who we allow into our country, that these kinds of things wouldn't happen ... that they are totally preventable. Timothy McVeigh was an American. He was an infantryman. He spoke English. How do you stop that? ...
Everyone seems to be in a rush to say, "There are going to be a lot of changes, and we all are going to have to accept that." I don't think that we do. I think we have to be very careful about what kinds of changes we rush to accept.
These terrorists did not hijack these planes and go to their deaths so that they could destroy a couple of buildings and kill a lot of people they didn't even know. These terrorists did this to kill something a lot bigger than any individual's life. They did it to kill all of our individual freedoms. They did it to kill America, which is more than a landmark ... it's a philosophy, and a way of life. I hope we don't get in too big of a hurry to sacrifice that way of life. ...
Today I went in with the engineers to clear a path through the debris on the ground floor, toward the center of the impact area. We were told to leave any body parts, flesh, clothing, etc. as we found it, for removal by the FBI. ...
Our platoon is detailed to assist the engineers. We helped build supports for the collapsing sections of the building near the impact point, and then we went in to clear this path. ... The ground floor is a mess. Far out into the areas of the building that do not look damaged from the outside, it is nothing but twisted rubble inside. There is about 4-6 inches of water on the floor, and under that all sorts of rubble, which we moved with shovels. Pipes and some of that wiring that would stretch around the globe two times hangs everywhere from the ceiling. The smell is god-awful ...
After about 15 minutes shoveling up chunks of carpet and brick, I found a piece of circuit board, and a chunk of the plane. When I say a chunk of it, I mean a piece that was about 3 oz. of twisted aluminum. The biggest piece I've seen so far is about the size of a refrigerator. I don't know what the FBI's evidence recovery team sees when they look at all of these little tatters of airplane skin, but they circle each piece like a chicken around a worm's hole, waiting for some clue to squirm up at them so they can grab it and bring it back to the nest, to feed all the hungry Americans waiting for answers. Then, they log it, bag it, and sort it with a bunch of other evidence that all looks the same to me. They took a statement from me on each piece, asking exactly where I found it in the building, what I was doing at the time, and my name.
I started back to the entrance (fancy name for a hole in the side of the building) to continue working, and I ran into the rest of my team coming out. Evidently, everyone was told to get out of the building, because someone wiser than us had decided that the pilings supporting the sagging structure didn't look stable enough. They do appear to sag a bit. I certainly wasn't arguing with them.
We went back to the assembly area, and other than words of support to passersby, a little fetching and carrying, and some litter pick up, that was the extent of my contribution for today.
I want to say that it is amazing to see how much optimism there is at a scene like this. Everyone is chomping at the bit to do the littlest thing, even if it is just handing out cold towels and Gatorade, so long as they are helping somehow. Each agency and unit represented there had some sort of symbol of patriotism and defiant pride in their country today. The firemen all had flags stuck in the bands of their helmets. The engineers had these big banners on their heavy equipment that said, "Quit Hell!!!" ...
When we rolled out tonight, our convoy passed a large group of onlookers at a corner of the on ramp. They all applauded for us. All day, I told everyone I came across that their unit was making a difference, and that they were doing a hell of a job. Everyone else was doing it, too.
I got to thinking about how different our relationships with each other would have been if we had met under different circumstances. In traffic, in a store, on the street, at work, at school. ... I don't know if I would have stopped to open a door or say a word to any of these people, nor possibly would they.
The country was a busy place up until two days ago. Too busy to get to know your neighbors. Now, we are all fellow Americans ...
I am supposed to go back tomorrow morning, but that may change. My buddies that were attached to 1st platoon to assist have been told that they won't be going tomorrow. I was told that I was. I guess I'll find out in the morning. ...
Sept. 14
Today was probably the best and worst day so far at the Pentagon for me. It was the day that I dreaded. The day that my squad was sent in as the recovery team. The day we had to find bodies.
They took us to the Pentagon at about 5 a.m. It was a very chilly morning. We formed up outside the barracks and boarded the large trucks that take us there each day. When we arrived, we found that security had been tightened even further. We were dropped off at the far side of the freeway from the Pentagon. The freeway is closed, and walking across it and up to the gutted remains of the Army wing of the Pentagon is like marching into a war-torn city. It just feels weird to be walking on an interstate, like you can feel the vibrations of all the life that should be there going busily about its day, but instead is totally absent.
We were ushered single file through the main gate, where our military ID cards were scrutinized by no less than four different agencies, and then we stood in line for the ID tent, where we were issued photo ID badges that say "The Pentagon."
After we received our badges, we formed back up and marched to our assembly area. The assembly areas have been vastly improved since my last day here. The place is like a small city, complete with plywood streets for the carts and dollies, and portable plastic sinks with little footpads that you stomp on to make the water flow.
Outside the fenced-in area, there is a kind of food court that would rival any shopping mall, where restaurants like McDonald's and Burger King have set up these amazing portable stores, made of modular sections. ... They also have a large dining area with buffet lines run by the Red Cross, some volunteers from an elementary school from another state, and whoever else happens to walk up and offer to help. There is a large banner hanging from the front of the food tent, with all of these signatures from hundreds of people, and in the center it says, "Thank you, Heroes."
I almost started crying in front of my buddy when I saw that. I had just come out of the building, from doing horrible, nasty work in filth and piles of debris. The sergeant that briefed us in the morning was asked to describe what we would find when we went in. He said, "Men, I don't know how to describe it to you. You are going into hell. Try to do the right thing. Try to act like soldiers."
When I saw that sign, I can't describe how I felt. A million things at once. Yes, the place was like a horrible kind of hell, but I didn't feel heroic for going there. I felt guilty, and fascinated. My mind was going a million miles an hour. I don't think I have ever in my life gone so long without blinking. ...
Everything in the place is the same charred color of gray, and it is a soupy mess. It feels like a tomb. The dead, what there is of them, are hidden among, around, and underneath every pile of rubble, every puddle, every twisted mass of metal and concrete. They are the same color as everything else. They are also scattered in tiny pieces.
My squad found about nine bodies today, but what we found of them couldn't be put together to make three full human beings. ... My roommate found an entire body, and thought all he had found was a leg. He didn't see the rest of her, because she just looked like a pile of soaked debris on the floor above the knee.
I was wheeling out a cart of debris, and stepped over a woman's shoe. It was one of those unflattering patent leather low heels that the Army issues female soldiers for their Class A uniforms. There was a line at the door to get carts out, so I left my cart and went back to the shoe. Some of the foot below the ankle was still inside. It had been sitting in the middle of an area that had been cleared of debris for an entire day. Hundreds of people had stepped on or over it, thinking it was just another random chunk of debris. I was afraid to close my eyes, because, while I could handle having to pick up part of a dead body, the idea of accidentally stepping on one was horrible for some reason. It seemed an unforgivably rude thing to do, which sounds strange, but makes sense to me.
I turned it over to the FBI, and they took it away. After six hours of this, I didn't feel heroic. I felt like I had invaded the privacy of 189 dead people. Seeing the banner, though, changed those thoughts. I started thinking about how I had felt that morning. I was definitely scared about going into the building. It had caught fire again almost immediately after I left on Thursday. We had evacuated it several times because they were afraid it might be about to collapse.
As we donned our protective gear, which consisted of two Tyvek body suits, goggles, respirators, hard hats, surgical gloves, heavy rubber gloves, and canvas work gloves, and heavy boots, all duct-taped closed, I asked my team leader if I could see a chaplain before we went in. He passed my request on to the platoon sergeant, who passed it on to the first sergeant. The first sergeant found me a chaplain, and I was able to have my confession heard and receive a blessing before entering the building.
After coming out, I was approached by several different chaplains, social workers, grief counselors, and Red Cross workers, all asking how I was doing, and how things were going inside. They asked questions that would get me talking, not just, "Are you OK?" Because they know that any infantry soldier is going to automatically say yes. They know how to cut through all the machismo, and get down where it might be hurting.
What really helped me the most was seeing all the volunteers, all the donations, all the expressions of support from people all over the country. I got a card from a little girl at an elementary school, in the third grade. She glued an American flag she made to the front of it. We were given a box of hats that had been decorated in red, white, and blue by someone somewhere. People stand outside the Pentagon to cheer for us when we leave. When we left today, someone had brought a set of bagpipes, and was playing Amazing Grace.
A lot of people working in that building would not be able to do this without all this support. It's like everyone in the country is helping us to carry our load. ... I wish all those people could see the morale of those of us that are here in person. They would know that their prayers, their outpouring of support and charitable donations, and their conspicuous acts of patriotism are doing just as much to clear the rubble as our sweat and physical exertion.
Our strength comes from America's encouragement and support. We are all working equally hard in our own ways to recover from these tragedies, and our collective bravery will overcome the cowardly acts of our attackers.
I've been asked if I feel angry at whoever did this, if I think we should go to war and wipe them from the face of the Earth. I don't know why, but I haven't given them a second thought. I suppose I could just be focused on my work, but I am glad that I haven't wasted my energy on directionless anger. These people want to disrupt our lives and destroy our freedom. Why help them succeed?
There are people who will have the unfortunate and monumental task of deciding how we should proceed from here, and I am happy to say that I think we can trust those people to make the right decisions. I'll do what is required when the order comes, but I'm not chomping at the bit for payback. All of my energy is focused on getting things back to normal, and supporting those who have had their lives disrupted, so they can move on.
Whoever did this is going to have to go on waking up in their own dark corner of the world, and will face their own judgment inevitably. I will go on living day after day in the greatest nation on Earth, surrounded by people who love freedom, and enjoy the greatest opportunities for happiness and prosperity to be found anywhere. We should not forget, even in these sad times, just how blessed we are to be Americans.
- Matthew Foldenauer
John, over here....
We are all working equally hard in our own ways to recover from these tragedies, and our collective bravery will overcome the cowardly acts of our attackers.
An excellent statement. Thanks for posting this!
Lives are the tender for America's continued freedom. Those who died 9/11 are just as much soldiers now as the uniformed veterans whose remain occupy that hallowed ground.
Look left. More pics here.
Semper Fi,
Norb
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