I didn't have this overwhelming urge to wave a flag on September 11th to feel like a patriot. Actions, particularly on a day like that day, speak louder than words, and I think the life choices I've made and that other Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines have made are more than enough to demonstrate patriotism in the truest sense.
Ten years ago, I was working at the Office of Personnel Management in Washington D.C., living in Crystal City just across I-395 from the Pentagon, and beginning my second year of grad school at George Washington University. I had been commissioned as a Second Lieutenant for about four months, but wasn't scheduled to go onto active duty until I finished my Masters later that spring.
It was a Tuesday morning, and I was moving as slowly as you can possibly imagine. I was suppose to be at work by 9am every day, but that day I didn't even manage to wake up until about 8:30am. I was in such a rush that I didn't watch the news, didn't look at the paper, and was entirely focused on getting to the Metro and getting to work. I got onto the Metro at about 9:15am for my 15 minute commute to work and was in my own little world, oblivious to what people were saying and doing around me. I was scrambling from the Farragut West Metro station south on 19th Street trying to make it to work before anyone realized just how late I was.
My office was probably three nautical miles from the Pentagon, just on the other side of the Memorial Bridge and a few blocks from the White House. Just as I was approaching the front patio of OPM, there was a loud boom, I took about 25 more steps, pulled open the front door of the building and slid inside. It was sheer pandemonium. People were huddled in clusters all over the front lobby crying and wailing. It was like I walked into a horror movie. The World Trade Centers had been hit. The boom I heard was an airplane crashing into the Pentagon.
I knew that my father worked in the Pentagon, but I had no idea where in the building he worked or how to reach him. It took 20 minutes to get a line to ring through to my mother. Someone from work drove me home to my parents in Springfield...it took about 3 hours to get there instead of the usual 25 minutes. And for a few days, I sat in the basement of my parents' house, watching television, and wondering what bad thing would happen next. When I returned to Crystal City, the Pentagon was still smoldering. I watched the smoke billow from the balcony of my apartment. And the smell...there aren't words to describe the smell...
Yesterday we decided not to leave our base in Afghanistan. It just seemed...well...too scary. My team spent all day doing their own thing...some reminiscing, but most of us just trying to process how dramatically our lives have changed in the past 10 years.
Ten years ago there were no airplanes flying, no contrails across the azure skies. The calm was unnerving. Yesterday I went to bed around 10pm, following a day that was again calm...only to then hear a swarm of helicopters buzzing the tops of the buildings on our base. It went on for at least 10 minutes...maybe more...and rattled me to the bone. But unlike 10 years ago when I felt hopeless against the people who hated Americans enough to kill almost 3,000 people in one day, this year I felt safe.
Strange isn't it? That I would feel safer in Afghanistan on 9/11 that I ever felt at home on this day. Yesterday was special because I shared it silently with the few, the happy few, the band of brothers, who sometimes pretend to be a bunch of jerks...but on 9/11, they were my closest friends. And without even saying a word, we all just knew that everything would be okay.
I knew that my father worked in the Pentagon, but I had no idea where in the building he worked or how to reach him. It took 20 minutes to get a line to ring through to my mother. Someone from work drove me home to my parents in Springfield...it took about 3 hours to get there instead of the usual 25 minutes. And for a few days, I sat in the basement of my parents' house, watching television, and wondering what bad thing would happen next. When I returned to Crystal City, the Pentagon was still smoldering. I watched the smoke billow from the balcony of my apartment. And the smell...there aren't words to describe the smell...
Ten years ago there were no airplanes flying, no contrails across the azure skies. The calm was unnerving. Yesterday I went to bed around 10pm, following a day that was again calm...only to then hear a swarm of helicopters buzzing the tops of the buildings on our base. It went on for at least 10 minutes...maybe more...and rattled me to the bone. But unlike 10 years ago when I felt hopeless against the people who hated Americans enough to kill almost 3,000 people in one day, this year I felt safe.
Strange isn't it? That I would feel safer in Afghanistan on 9/11 that I ever felt at home on this day. Yesterday was special because I shared it silently with the few, the happy few, the band of brothers, who sometimes pretend to be a bunch of jerks...but on 9/11, they were my closest friends. And without even saying a word, we all just knew that everything would be okay.
I thought it was interesting that we didn't hear anything from you yesterday, I was interested to hear your thoughts. (And here they are.) Thank you for all you do for us and for the people in Afghanistan.
ReplyDeleteTen years ago, I was stationed at Dover Air Force Base. When someone interrupted a meeting on labor issues to say a plane had hit the WTC, I thought, "What a terrible accident." We finished the meeting at 9:00, and as I left the MPF building, I saw the footage on a television in the waiting room, and the second plane hit. I ran back to my building and burst into my SJA's office and asked if his red phone had rung. He looked confused and then his phone rang. And then the Pentagon was hit. We were in Threatcon Delta for weeks--all blinds closed, 24-hour-ops, a dark and dreary workplace. One of the scariest things I ever experienced was the silence of our flight line as all the planes were grounded. And then the eerie sound of helicopters and other aircraft arriving over the next days as remains from the Pentagon were brought to the Port Mortuary at our Base. In the days and weeks to follow, I prepared countless wills, provided briefings on the Law of Armed Conflict, and coordinated paperwork to cancel my separation orders--I only had four months remaining on my 4-year commission on September 11th, 2001, and was scheduled to separate in January 2002. Instead, I served another six years. Because of that day, I've had life experiences I never dreamed of, been to countries I never thought I'd see, and will never take for granted the freedoms we have and those who defend them. Thank you for being a defender of freedom!! *hugs*
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