The photo above was take on 9/13. We are looking Eastward at the smoldering 4 World Trade Center building. In the background is 5 World Trade Center, and if you look down the block you can see the pile of rubble that was once 7 World Trade Center where I worked.
A close look at "The Pile" that was once 1 and 2 World Trade Centers.
Another look at The Pile. To the left you can see the chain of men working the bucket lines. Later we would be known as the "Bucket Brigade".
A crushed ladder truck at the North West corner of the World Trade Center "bathtub". In the background to the right is a smoldering 5 World Trade Center.
More crushed vehicles at the Battery Park motor pool. In the background is the Embassy Sweets and Battery Park Cinema. To the left of those buildings is the World Financial Center, who's squat construction saved most of it from collapse.
This is it. This is the front of the Bucket Brigade. Somehow we wound up in front and were the tip of the shovel, so to speak. This is a shot from just about the middle of what is 220+ stories of building debris. If you look closely you can see that we had only a rag-tag assortment of equipment - especially buckets. Many times we resorted to digging with our hands and putting the dirt in old wastepaper baskets.
The forbidden area. Those debris were still red hot and so no one was allowed down there for quite some time.
Building collapses were always a problem. No one knew for sure what buildings were ready to fall, and so we had regular evacuations. This is a shot from Liberty Street, the south side of the World Trade Center. You can see a piece of the World Trade Center that pierced the post office building and is dangling precariously over our heads.
That big black building was beginning to creak and we could hear the metal buckle under stress. It stayed up, but you couldn't convince us of that at the time. Here we are standing at the minimum safe distance, ready to get caved in on or go back to work at the pile.
A great shot ruined by someone's stupid thumb. We're standing on top of a steel beam with a magnificent view of the rescue effort.
A view looking South from the corner of where 4 World Trade Center used to be. The wreckage you can see in the background is a pedestrian bridge connecting the World Trade Center to the World Financial Center across the street. It was filled with bodies.
Steve cut his hand open on a piece of razor-sharp steel. Even though he couldn't dig anymore he still stayed for two more days and passed out bottled water and donated food.
We've been working for 3 days now so we decide to follow Steve to the hospital and get some decent food. He's ok.
Apparently women like that whole "wounded hero" thing.
The loss of our friends and family members are finally taking their toll, Dave is not having a good week.
My brother (left) just got out of the Marines on September 9th. He was called back to active duty. Dave (center) and Frank (right) are taking a break while I'm snapping a shot and checking on Steve.
Back to work. That's me working the Parkins Saw. Somehow I managed to get under a bunch of rubble and was cutting huge pieces of metal away. This is as close to the "Forbidden Zone" as we were allowed to get. This is the epicenter of Ground Zero.
Thursday night we pulled this guy out of the debris. When I tell you that there was cheering, you have to try to understand that its like nothing you've ever heard before. I can't do it justice, so I'll just let it be a memory for those that were there.
This is what's left of the World Financial Center.
I'm tired and I want to go home. It's Thursday night and I've gone a couple of sets of bunker gear so far. Note that I'm still wearing the same clothing I originally wore to work that Tuesday morning. Guess I was too busy to change.
So what happened between 9/11 and 9/15? Here's an account I wrote from my room on 9/16 when I was discharged from the hospital...
I'm sitting here at home now trying to cope with everything that's happened for the last five days. It’s a strange thing to share one’s personal experiences on the internet like this, but I guess I need to get it out of my system before I can attempt to go back to my once happy and mundane life. I'll assume most of you haven't been to the crash site and seen what the devastation is like up close, but if you read on a little more, you'll hear about what you don't get from your TV...
My first task was to gather human remains before the heavy trucks came through and crushed them. I was with perhaps 300 other volunteers and we went about the grizzly task quickly and quietly. All you could hear was the chirping of the locator devices attached to our suits and the occasional sound of someone getting sick. When that was done, I joined a bunch of other volunteers and set up roadblocks, gathered food and equipment, and called up reservists and people on vacation. It was about this time that I heard 7 World Trade would never be open for business again, as it had just fallen. Thank God the building was evacuated by that time, although I learned a few Search & Rescue personnel were inside.
My uncle, who works with Emergency Service for the NYPD, pulled me aside and asked me if I had a magic marker. After I gave it to him, he pulled up his shirt and asked me to write his personal information on his torso so he could be identified in case he got killed. When I was done, he did the same for me. Civilian volunteers were pouring in by the hundreds at this point, so the chiefs started pulling the professionals (and those posing to be professional - like me) into the center of the site. We dug with our hands and with little shovels until night fell and other city workers who were eager to do their part relieved us. That night I slept against the Millennium Hilton building just across from 5 World Trade, which was burning.
Even after I had drifted off from exhaustion, I couldn't stop replaying that image of the 767 hitting Tower 2 again and again. Around me were the men of various fire companies from all over the east coast, each with something personal to deal with, each of us doing our best not to cry for our losses. It didn't take long for that sorrow to turn into hate, and from hate to turn into raw energy...the type of power that can keep a person going for days. Before dawn I was awaken by a familiar face of and older brother of a child-hood friend. He sat down with me and we shared a small breakfast together. He was really upset - his entire fire company was killed when Tower 1 went down and the only reason he's alive now was because it was his day off. I also got the bad news about my cousin and several friends of mine who were still missing. I also found out my aunt was rescued earlier in the day after she got trapped by falling debris. She's a Port Authority Detective and was one of the first people on the scene when it was still considered an 'accident'.
The next three days were a blur, with a lot of work and very little sleep. I called home infrequently to get updates about my family members, and to let everyone know I was all right. To keep my sanity, I also called some friends from college just to chat about pointless things, although there wasn't much time to do that. Despite how stupid that sounds, it really helped. We also had to evacuate the dig a few times because a building would poise to collapse. Sometimes it was just a false alarm, but not always. As more debris fell from buildings our preceding accomplishments were erased and we were presented with a larger task to complete. I will spare you the mundane details of each day, so instead I'll try to capture for you exactly how it was at ground zero on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
You dig. You're not sure when you started, you don't know what time it is, and you can't breathe or see very well. Generally you're on your hands and knees, scooping piles of rubble into a bucket and passing it to the guy in line behind you. He passes that bucket to the fifty or so guys in line behind him and it makes it's way to a dumpster. As you pass that bucket back, you call for a new one which is always in short supply, and while you wait a chance opens for you to catch your breath. While you're digging you have to be really careful and watch for what you're collecting. Sometimes it'll be documents, sometimes it'll be part of a desk, sometimes it'll be evidence, or maybe a part of someone.
Every few minutes everyone yells "QUIET!" and the place comes to a halt as we listen for the sounds of survivors trapped beneath the wreckage. It's generally followed by one of five things: "K-9" for cadaver sniffing dogs. "Body Bag" for someone to cover and collect a corpse. Two whistle blows to let everyone know to go back to work. "Evacuate" to get everyone off the dig site. Or everyone goes wild with cheers as we pull out a 'live one'. Unfortunately, there were a disproportionate number of ‘body bags’ to ‘live ones’, but when we did pull someone out, it was fantastic. It's the best feeling you'll ever have and it makes you work harder than you did before. I was a few feet away from where we pulled out a guy Thursday evening. It was amazing that anyone was alive after so long, but there he was, standing in front of us, and in good shape. What's even more amazing was that after he shook hands with everyone, he donned a hard-hat and directed us to where he thought he could hear calls for help while he was buried.
We worked at a feverish pace to find another survivor. And that's what you do...just go back to digging. President Bush came to see us on Friday and it was absolutely amazing. He gave a great speech that really meant a lot to us and made us feel better about everything going on around us. He told us that we'd hunt down and bring justice to those who hurt America. As he tried to talk, his voice was drowned out by thousands of gruff voices chanting "USA". After he left, we went back to our assignments with a renewed energy and purpose. We knew all of America was watching us and were proud of the work we were doing. That night I collapsed from exhaustion while digging and was sent to the hospital for treatment of fatigue and a crushed toe. They discharged me just a few hours ago after I was rested up and could walk. I'm at home now, reliving this nightmarish experience for the sake of my own sanity, and to share a little something with you, the anonymous reader.
I'd like to stress that I was not a member of the FDNY or the NYPD during the 9/11 crisis. I was an individual who was in a unique situation to work at the rescue/recovery effort and not have to follow orders. My friends are all either Marines, Policemen, Firemen, Paramedics, etc. My freedom allowed me to perform a variety of functions at Ground Zero, of which I am proud.
I would like to thank Home Depot for providing us with everything we needed those first couple of days. I can only hope that StarBucks Coffee goes into bankruptcy for having the nerve to charge us $4 for a bottle of water so we can treat shock victims. Thanks to Burger King and McDonalds for staying open right across the street from Ground Zero and for feeding us for free .
That's all I'm willing to say about September 11th for right now, perhaps next year I'll share with you one of the dozens of stories yet to be shared outside my circle of friends who were actually there. We appreciate your kinds words from last year and wish you the best.
Regards,
Tarrif
(Staten Island Bucket Brigade)
The following was added September 11th, 2010...
I don't like to tell war stories. Not here anyway. But I thought this would be a constructive addition to this page, especially since the main participants are very sick and wanted to have their story told in the event they aren't around to commemorate the 10th anniversary of September 11th.
Most of my friends and family are cops or firemen. Don't know how it ended up that way. Part of it couldn't be helped, and the other half I chalk up to my own good taste. At the time of September 11th my uncle was the President of the Port Authority Policemen's Union. My father, a retired NYPD lieutenant, worked for the District Attorney's office in Brooklyn. They were contacted by members of Strategic Air Command's 28th & 40th Air Expeditionary Wings asking for NYPD, FDNY, and PAPD decals to put on their B-52 Stratofortresses. Weeks later pictures were sent from Diego Garcia, home of the 28th AEF, showing how the decals were used. It's important to note the date on some of the pictures: October 7th, 2001 is the day the war in Afghanistan started as "Operation Enduring Freedom". The men and aircraft - and bombs - you see in these photographs were the first strategic forces over Afghanistan.
It brings us all great satisfaction that the men and machines of our military had the NYPD, FDNY, and PAPD logo's proudly displayed on their aircraft as they went into harm's way on our behalf. These are the pictures we received from that day, and we would like to share them with you...
The picture above was taken the day the strategic aerial campaign started against the Taliban in Afghanistan.
Notice the PAPD and WTC "Never Forget" emblem on the side of this B-52, courtesy of the Port Authority Policeman's Union.
Port Authority emblems attached to general purpose bombs en-route to their target.
Please report any dead links, spelling, punctuation, or grammar mistakes to: tarrif@hotmail.com Thank you.
