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Eight Years Ago
Sep. 11th, 2009 02:34 pmEight years ago this morning, I was sitting in the radiology department at the local hospital waiting to get my head examined. No joke.
I was a new, young Soldier in the U.S. Army Reserves. My drill weekend for the month had been that previous weekend, and on Sunday, I'd been in a bit of an on-duty accident. Fell off the top of a Deuce-and-a-half, whacking the back of my head on the truck behind me as I fell, then smacking into the concrete. It was nasty. Without going into medical detail, let's just say I lost consciousness for between six and eight minutes in a delayed reaction, and the Army medics, being the morons that they were, did nothing to check for head/neck injuries, sent me back to work, let me drive home an hour and a half by myself, and never sent me to the hospital. It was only the Lieutenant Colonel at ROTC the next morning who took one look at me and knew something was wrong who sent me to the hospital, where the CAT scan machine was malfunctioning. So, I had to come back on Tuesday. September 11th, 2001.
I showed up for my 8:00 AM appointment, Eastern Standard Time. I was sitting in the waiting room watching the news when suddenly there was the image of the first tower smoking, and the news anchor babbling frantically. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at it, wide-eyed. My mother, who was there with me, said something like, "Oh my god, this is a horrible accident." I remember shaking my head and saying, "No, we're under attack. Watch the second tower." Less than a minute later, the next airplane hit the second tower.
Maybe it was the head injury, or maybe it was because I was so recently out of Basic Training, but I felt like I was watching with this cold, distant detachment, like I was there but I wasn't. My mother started to panic. My sister was living in Boston at the time, and if they were attacking New York, she was frantic that they might hit Boston next, if not the Empire State Building. I remember shaking my head and saying, "No. They're gonna hit Washington."
Shortly thereafter, the report came in from the Pentagon.
My mother started to worry and wonder what other cities would be hit, what other buildings. The Prudential Tower in Boston would have been a prime target, but again, something told me otherwise. "No more buildings," I said, not knowing why I felt sure of that, "but it's not over."
Once the last plane had landed in the field in Pennsylvania, I said, "Now it's over."
To this day, I don't know why I said it like I did. I don't know how I knew. But it was there. And by the way, the CAT scan came back clean. No intracranial bleeding, just a nasty concussion.
That afternoon, we stopped by a Wal-Mart for something, I don't remember what, but I remember the hushed tones throughout the store, and how everyone was talking to everyone else. Reassuring and supportive comments from total strangers. Even with a splitting headache, I was still a Soldier, and I tried to reassure people who looked like they were going to break down. We all did that for each other. It was the strangest feeling.
Regardless of the political fallout of this tragedy, which will always try to taint the losses, the heroism, the true American spirit that shined in so many people eight years ago today, let's try to remember what we felt on that day without that tarnish. Let's remember the tears we shed as Americans, as brothers and sisters, regardless of political leanings or personal background. Let's remember the heroes who rushed into the building to save people when everyone else was rushing out. Let's remember the determination we all felt to stand tall even as the towers fell. And let's remember that despite our nation's faults, it still MEANS SOMETHING to be an American, and we should make it mean something good.
I salute the heroes of this tragedy. I honor the families who suffered losses on that day. I remember the pain shared by all Americans and our friends throughout the world.
And I swear by my oath of office as a commissioned officer in the United States Army, a commission which has never been resigned, and by my proud status as a native-born American citizen, I will do what I can to stand for the best that America is and can be. THAT is how I shall honor the heroes and victims of September 11th, 2001.
How will you?
I was a new, young Soldier in the U.S. Army Reserves. My drill weekend for the month had been that previous weekend, and on Sunday, I'd been in a bit of an on-duty accident. Fell off the top of a Deuce-and-a-half, whacking the back of my head on the truck behind me as I fell, then smacking into the concrete. It was nasty. Without going into medical detail, let's just say I lost consciousness for between six and eight minutes in a delayed reaction, and the Army medics, being the morons that they were, did nothing to check for head/neck injuries, sent me back to work, let me drive home an hour and a half by myself, and never sent me to the hospital. It was only the Lieutenant Colonel at ROTC the next morning who took one look at me and knew something was wrong who sent me to the hospital, where the CAT scan machine was malfunctioning. So, I had to come back on Tuesday. September 11th, 2001.
I showed up for my 8:00 AM appointment, Eastern Standard Time. I was sitting in the waiting room watching the news when suddenly there was the image of the first tower smoking, and the news anchor babbling frantically. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at it, wide-eyed. My mother, who was there with me, said something like, "Oh my god, this is a horrible accident." I remember shaking my head and saying, "No, we're under attack. Watch the second tower." Less than a minute later, the next airplane hit the second tower.
Maybe it was the head injury, or maybe it was because I was so recently out of Basic Training, but I felt like I was watching with this cold, distant detachment, like I was there but I wasn't. My mother started to panic. My sister was living in Boston at the time, and if they were attacking New York, she was frantic that they might hit Boston next, if not the Empire State Building. I remember shaking my head and saying, "No. They're gonna hit Washington."
Shortly thereafter, the report came in from the Pentagon.
My mother started to worry and wonder what other cities would be hit, what other buildings. The Prudential Tower in Boston would have been a prime target, but again, something told me otherwise. "No more buildings," I said, not knowing why I felt sure of that, "but it's not over."
Once the last plane had landed in the field in Pennsylvania, I said, "Now it's over."
To this day, I don't know why I said it like I did. I don't know how I knew. But it was there. And by the way, the CAT scan came back clean. No intracranial bleeding, just a nasty concussion.
That afternoon, we stopped by a Wal-Mart for something, I don't remember what, but I remember the hushed tones throughout the store, and how everyone was talking to everyone else. Reassuring and supportive comments from total strangers. Even with a splitting headache, I was still a Soldier, and I tried to reassure people who looked like they were going to break down. We all did that for each other. It was the strangest feeling.
Regardless of the political fallout of this tragedy, which will always try to taint the losses, the heroism, the true American spirit that shined in so many people eight years ago today, let's try to remember what we felt on that day without that tarnish. Let's remember the tears we shed as Americans, as brothers and sisters, regardless of political leanings or personal background. Let's remember the heroes who rushed into the building to save people when everyone else was rushing out. Let's remember the determination we all felt to stand tall even as the towers fell. And let's remember that despite our nation's faults, it still MEANS SOMETHING to be an American, and we should make it mean something good.
I salute the heroes of this tragedy. I honor the families who suffered losses on that day. I remember the pain shared by all Americans and our friends throughout the world.
And I swear by my oath of office as a commissioned officer in the United States Army, a commission which has never been resigned, and by my proud status as a native-born American citizen, I will do what I can to stand for the best that America is and can be. THAT is how I shall honor the heroes and victims of September 11th, 2001.
How will you?
