Sunday, September 11, 2011

My Road to 9/11

...In May of 2011, when President Obama announced the killing of Osama Bin Laden, I did not rejoice. My only thought was: "Finally". Not that I thought anything was over, not Al Queda, not the battle against terrorism we had been fighting for so long, just that we finally took him out.

Everyone, including Bin Laden, had to realize he was living on borrowed time the moment he took credit for the 9/11 attacks. Hell, even when he first proposed the idea, he must have known how it would end. Anyone who remembers Munich in 1972 and how much effort the Mossad put into finding and executing the terrorists responsible for that knew America would not suffer to do less. Even if Bin Laden was captured alive, I doubt very much that the temptation to just shoot him then and there could be resisted for long.

Let me tell you about what I felt on September 11th, 2001. But first, let me explain why...

Back in 1980, I knew Iranians. Some had moved to my home town, and surrounding towns, started businesses. They were refugees from the Ayatollah's cultural revolution who, as bad as the Shah had been, could not imagine living under Sharia Law and cultural backwardness. We here were still remembering the Iranian Hostage crisis of 1979, so I often heard derogatory remarks made about these folk, though they were blameless, and probably the least likely to have participated...

When I went to college, I met more Iranians. They were fellow students of Chemical Engineering, which made sense as they were training to operate the petroleum drilling and processing facilities (and possibly, the future Nuclear Power plant) of their country. One time, when proposals of raising student tuitions were circulating through the campus, many of us students were organizing protests. When we asked the Iranians if they would like to participate, they refused with a haunted look on their faces. Later, someone would suggest that they were likely being monitored by Iranian officials for signs of political activism, and were afraid for their lives and those family members still in Iran. I believe this to be true.

I had made the acquaintance of one remarkable fellow, Sayid, through the school's fencing club. We never talked too much about his past, but I knew that he also had fled Iran prior to the Ayatollah's return.

I also met my first Pakistani, a young girl whose name escapes me now. She wore what I took to be traditional garb, but was not the inhibiting Burkha. Instead, she wore colorful robes and scarves that framed her lovely face. We only met a few times, in passing on the campus grounds, and I had struck up conversation. My father, ever the historian, noted the irony of my heritage being linked to the British expeditionary forces that had occupied her lands at one time or another, after I mentioned meeting her.

One time, while walking & talking on Huntington Ave. with a friend, we passed a student handing out flyers that denounced the CIA's involvement with the US embassy in Iran. He asked us if we had known about it.. I thought the question ridiculous. Of course our State department would be aware and supportive of CIA operations in that country! How naive and credulous could you be about espionage to think otherwise?

In 1981, President Reagan ordered the breaching of blockade of Muammar Gaddafi's "Line of Death". This incident would eventually resonate with me.

In 1984, after dropping out of college, I had joined the US Navy. Because I spent so much time in training, it wasn't until 1987 that I actually served on a ship. The USS Capodanno was stationed in Newport, RI, near enough to my home town. Most of our time was either spent in Newport, or in Boston for extensive ship refits. We finally deployed for the Mediterranean in spring of 1988. While we were berthed in Naples, Italy, the crew had planned to hold a talent contest for the crew at the local USO club. On April 15th, at about 11 pm Naples time, I had just turned into my bunk after my watch. An hour later, I was shook awake, and told we were to prepare to light the boilers. So, I headed back to the engineering department, received my orders, and went to my station. After performing the prefunctory duties, I headed back to the control cabin of the engine room, and asked what had happened. A car bomb planted in front of the USO had exploded. Luckily, none of my crewmates had perished in the explosion, though a few had been hospitalized. Unfortunately, one of the casualties that night was RM3 Angela Maria Santos, of the Naples NATO base. She had been asked to be there to act as a judge of the talent contest.

NCIS (yes, there really is such a thing...) had deputized many warm bodies to interview our crew, for clues to possible leaks that there would be a large gathering that night. Also, our ship, and our berth mate the USS Paul, had both been part of the original 'Gulf of Death' deployment. Later, when things quieted a bit, I would take a look at the blast site. I, and my shipmate companion, could not really see much, as the area was still cordoned from through traffic. In bars that night, I remember asking a stranger why anyone would do such things. He mentioned the ever present Carabinieri we had seen on the streets of Naples, even as we had arrived, and told us that Italy still had a compulsory draft for young men. Many political radicals were recruited who were protesting this state of affairs.

After I had left the Navy, finding a good job was difficult. The only certifications I had was my high school diploma, and my service record. In 1991, I was working as a taxi driver for a local company. In October, I was to meet with my parents, who had returned to town from their retirement in Wareham for a friend's funeral. That Sunday, we met at a favorite Chinese restaurant for the buffet. Even as I had just arrived, my father rose to get seconds from the buffet table. He then spun around and collapsed. Immediately, I rushed to his side, shouting for someone to call for an ambulance. I checked for pulse, responsiveness, cleared his mouth of obstructions, asked if anyone there knew CPR. I asked my mother, who had been a registered nurse, if she would perform CPR, but she was too overcome with grief and panic. So, I started compressions and breaths. All this time, I thought how I had failed every time I tried to qualify for CPR credentials. This time, I had no choice but to do my very best.

It's odd, looking back, at how little panic I actually felt. I had been trained to respond to emergencies by the Navy, and merely did what I had to.

Eventually, a young woman who had been in the restaurant relieved me from performing CPR, so I could comfort and quiet my mother. I never learned that woman's name, but after the EMTs arrived and started treatment, she cried on my shoulder.

My father died that night, probably while still in the restaurant. We had only managed to keep him functioning for a few scant minutes. It was at my father's funeral that found out that I had a new job available with the Post Office.

In 2000, I heard about the attack on the USS Cole, and thought: "There but for the grace of God"..

So, I found myself working on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001. I had been told that there was something on TV I ought to see, so I went to the break room and saw the Today show broadcast of the North tower fire. Prior to this, the news had reports of airline pilots being caught sleeping, or drunk while flying. So, even as I saw the horrible results of the crash, I had a flash of black humor that it was an accident. Then, I saw the South tower crash.

As soon as it had sunk in, I had that feeling of ice water flooding my guts. A terrorist attack. In New York City. My thoughts immediately went to those Iranians I knew, the young Pakistani of my college years. I feared for them, knowing what was to come. When the news footage of Palestinians celebrating the attack by dancing in the streets, I thought to myself; "Don't you realize?"

When I heard about United flight 93, I was awed. A few passengers, given little time to discuss what was to be done, but having been given the chance to learn the stakes of what could happen, decided the fate for the entire flight. I doubt seriously that all passengers would have agreed to their plan, had they been given the opportunity. Many were afraid, and would have wanted to do nothing in hopes that they would be spared. I had been to Masada, in Israel, during my Mediterranean deployment. What happened on Flight 93 was nothing short of the choice of Eleazer, as Josephus recorded it. People died, but not by the terms of their oppressors.

After the successful attack on Pearl Harbor, Admiral Yamamoto of the Imperial Japanese Navy was reputed to say; "I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."

On this tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attack, I have learned many interesting things:

  • National Security Advisor Condaleeza Rice, having called then Russian President Putin, to advise him that our alert status was at Defcon 3, but we would not attack them, heard him say; "I know, we saw the news. We have stopped our military exercises. How can we help?". At this, she thought; "the cold war really is over.."
  • Communications at the Pentagon after the plane crash had been so disrupted that many high ranking officials had to rely on personal cell phones to communicate w/ each other. Unguarded, unencrypted cell phones.
  • Many of the survivors of the Twin Tower attacks, and those who worked at Ground Zero to remove debris and retrieve bodies, were exposed to highly toxic dust. This was known at the time, and notifications had been made to the workers, even as public officials tried to calm the public by saying the air and water was safe...
  • The reason for the collapse of the seventh tower was not only due to debris, but the underground network of connecting maintenance tunnels that transmitted the shock waves from the collapse of the Twin towers.

On the morning of the 12th, having been notified that there now existed hold on all commercial flights, there was an eerie silence. You never think about contrails of jet planes crossing the sky, until they aren't there. Where I live, you occasionally hear the engines of planes approaching Logan airport, but not that day. The day was especially silent, as I went about my work. A haunted silence of indecision and fear.

There have been many worse disasters, since 9/11. Hurricane Katrina caused much more damage, cost many lives. But, the events of 2001 still linger. We are still haunted.

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