My daughter, who was a volunteer firefighter in New Jersey (and was elected chief for 8 years) told me later that she saw the 1st plane hit and started to get dressed. Seconds after the 2nd plane hit, one of the firefighters in her company called her & said, "I'll pick you up." No need to say where they were going--they already knew. It was to the firehouse. They knew that they, like so many other fire departments in the region, would be called upon for assistance. She didn't call me before she left & by the time I called her she had changed the message on her answering machine to say, "...and Mom, don't call me.... The dispatch number is _________." They spent the next week or so coordinating the fire companies in NJ, NY, and surrounding areas so they could shuttle up trucks, equipment & supplies up to Queens--that's where there's a large muni garage, a staging area. She said from time to time, she'd start to lose it, but she shoved it to the back of her mind--that's what the firefighters were doing to survive and to keep going, because they were professionals and had a job to do. She said the FDNY needed her more than bawling her eyes out because she'd be useless to them. She said the hardest thing to do was to give up hope that no persons would be getting out alive from the horror.
When she finally did call, she was finally able to let it all out. It was the roughest phone call we've ever had.
Thank you for sharing your story with us all