Just after the first jet struck the World Trade Center on Tuesday morning,
EMT-P Edwin Huntley became aware of the disaster and decided to volunteer his
services.
Leaving his hometown of Lubec around 10a.m., Huntley traveled 12
hours on his Harley Davidson, arriving in New York late Tuesday night. A short
time after arriving, he was assigned to a search and rescue team, which combed
the debris for survivors. He reports that the area was like the surface of the
moon, covered with an eerie, clinging , white dust. Not much rescue work had
been done amidst the wreckage during the day , as the focus had been on aiding
people who were immediately accessible , and survey work of the surrounding
buildings had to be completed to determine what areas of Ground Zero were safe
to take rescue teams into.
Huntley, paramedic and heavy duty rescue
technician, was quickly assigned to a team of firefighters and volunteers and
began to climb through the wreckage. Looking for survivors, the team climbed
down through layers of contorted steel beams and slabs of concrete. They found a
few bodies and several body parts, which they marked by placing orange body bags
as close as possible for later retrieval. Huntley noted that the first 48 hours
are considered critical for reaching survivors, although people have been known
to exist for a couple of weeks in the wreckage following disaster. The teams
thus focused on finding survivors rather than collecting remains.
There were
thousands of rescuers on the scene, with more arriving in a steady stream from
all over the country. Many had traveled for hours and arrived tired , yet went
right to work, often searching for hours before stopping to eat or rest. Some
pushed themselves so hard they were unable to make it to the rest areas but lay
down in the debris to sleep within feet of the heavy machinery that was
constantly removing tons of wreckage. Total strangers were put together to form
teams and within a few hours became comrades because of the intensity of the
situation. It was not until daylight that the total devastation and immensity of
the disaster became apparent. At night, a street was lined with emergency
vehicles that appeared to be waiting to help. In the daylight it was apparent
that these were the remains of the first responding units that were caught in
the collapse of the towers.
During the day, more rescuers were put into the
search as they arrived. Dogs were brought in to find the living and the dead and
were frantic from the number of scents they were picking up. Dust and toxic
fumes occasionally overcame workers. Many rescuers were injured as they
negotiated the dangerous work areas and from the debris that continued to fall
from above. At times the entire operation, including the ranks of heavy
machinery, came to a sudden halt when rescuers believed they had heard a sound
from a possible survivor. Only a very few times were they correct. At these
moments the rescuers' response was intensified while they worked to extricate
the victim. When the few survivors were brought out, cheers spread across the
disaster area, spurring the rescuers on to more hours of dangerous and
depressing efforts.
Many young people risked their lives alongside the
rescuers, climbing through the dangerous terrain. By bringing food, water and
encouragement right into the midst of the steel. these volunteers enabled the
workers to replenish themselves without having to take time to leave the site.
These people not only came to the workers, but also ran the rest areas, where
workers could go to recuperate. The young people also maintained much-needed
supplies of gloves, hats, masks and other safety equipment. The dedication and
responsibility shown by these young adults inspired and impressed rescue
workers.
Soon the search for survivors will end, and the recovery of the dead
will begin. But until that time, every rescuer holds the belief that more
survivors will be found. It is this faith that keeps motivating the workers to
push themselves to their very limits. As rescuers left the restricted area,
exhausted and depressed by the lack of survivors found thus far, they were
shocked to be greeted by thousands of people who cheered and shouted their
appreciation, and held signs thanking those who had come to give of thenselves
to help recover the thousands still unaccounted for.
They pay me to tease shades of meaning from social and cultural issues, to
provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the American
soul.
But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving
eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit, must be
addressed to the unknown author of this suffering.
You monster. You beast.
You unspeakable bastard. What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's
attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we
would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.
Did you want us
to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.
Did you want to make us
fear? You just steeled our resolve.
Did you want to tear us apart? You just
brought us together.
Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and
quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, cultural, political and class
division, but a family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending
tremendous emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae, a singer's revealing
dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse.
We're wealthy, too,
spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe
because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe
entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though - peace-loving and
compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the
overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and loving
God.
Some people - you, perhaps - think that any or all of this makes us
weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that
cannot be measured by arsenals.
Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning
and we are in shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing
you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special
effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom
Clancy novel.
Both in terms of the awful scope of its ambition and the
probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts
of terrorism in the history of the United States and, indeed, the history of the
world. You've bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before.
But there's
a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. This is the
lesson Japan was taught to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this
hard, the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When
roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When provoked by
this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any
length, in the pursuit of justice.
I tell you this without fear of
contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures
me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.
In days to come,
there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose
failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening
again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic
freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But
determined, too. Unimaginably determined.
You see, there is steel beneath
this velvet. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who
don't know us well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on hold. As
Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will
rise in defense of all that we cherish.
Still, I keep wondering what it was
you hoped to teach us. It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the
depths of your hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And
take this message in exchange:
You don't know my people.
You don't
know what we're about.
You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn.
This is exerpted from an e-mail circulating the web. Although this was originally broadcast in the 70's, much of the sentiment is still valid today. It has also been recently rebroadcast on public radio.
Widespread but only partial news coverage was given recently to a remarkable editorial broadcast from Toronto by Gordon Sinclair, a Canadian television commentator. What follows is the full text of his trenchant remarks as printed in the Congressional Record:
"This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as the most
generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth. Germany,
Japan and, to a lesser extent, Britain and Italy were lifted out of the debris
of war by the Americans who poured in billions of dollars and forgave other
billions in debts. None of these countries is today paying even the interest on
its remaining debts to the United States.
When France was in danger of
collapsing in 1956, it was the Americans who propped it up, and their reward was
to be insulted and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it.
When earthquakes hit distant cities, it is the United States that hurries in
to help. This spring, 59 American communities were flattened by tornadoes.
Nobody helped.
The Marshall Plan and the Truman Policy pumped billions of
dollars into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those countries are
writing about the decadent, warmongering Americans.
I'd like to see just one
of those countries that is gloating over the erosion of the United States dollar
build its own airplane. Does any other country in the world have a plane to
equal the Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tri-Star, or the Douglas DC10? If so,
why don't they fly them? Why do all the International lines except Russia fly
American Planes?
Why does no other land on earth even consider putting a man
or woman on the moon? You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you get radios.
You talk about German technocracy, and you get automobiles. You talk about
American technocracy, and you find men on the moon - not once, but several times
and safely home again.
You talk about scandals, and the Americans put theirs
right in the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-dodgers are
not pursued and hounded. They are here on our streets, and most of them, unless
they are breaking Canadian laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at
home to spend here.
When the railways of France, Germany and India were
breaking down through age, it was the Americans who rebuilt them. When the
Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an
old caboose. Both are still broke.
I can name you 5000 times when the
Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one
time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there
was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake.
Our neighbors
have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them
get kicked around. They will come out of this thing with their flag high. And
when they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that are
gloating over their present troubles. I hope Canada is not one of those."
The face of the masses,
Composed but sad:
A student, thoughtful.
A
father lifts a small child.
A woman bows her head.
Some with tears
Some
with anger
All in silence.
A Negro pauses.
A boy on
crutches,
Servicemen in uniform,
Slowly they pass.
The sign of the
cross,
A child kneels
The American people pay homage to a fallen
President.
September 2001
The face of the President,
Composed but sad:
A fireman, weeping.
A
son looks for his father.
Many bow their heads.
Some with tears
Some
with anger
All with disbelief.
The smoke billows.
Many are
limping,
Workers in uniform.
Frantically they search.
Hands folded in
prayer,
A candle lighted
The American people pay homage to their fallen
countrymen.
Christine A. Stanton
And die they willl by the thousands.
"Vengeance is Mine" saith the
Lord.
But "Dead or Alive" we will have him
And war may be our lasting word
This war will be unlike any other
Not contained by geography now,
But
encompassing all, and the masses,
The victims are all of us now.
The enemy lives in among us
In each world wide city and state.
The
world is a warren for hiding,
And the foe is known only by hate.
Christine A. Stanton
It's one year later now they say
And time will heal the wounds.
The pit is cleared, the steel is gone,
But I can hear the sounds.
The bugles drown the whipping wind.
The names have all been read,
But I still see the twisted steel.
I still cry for the dead.
I cry for loss of innocence.
Our country now is blessed
With knowledge that we are not safe,
We stand with all the rest.
We stand united, free and proud,
And take our proper place
Among the world community,
Whose terrors we now face
No longer blinded to the threat
The knowledge makes us strong.
As one we face the future now.
Remembrance is our Song.
Christine A. Stanton
Author Unknown