I think that probably every generation has those tragic days they remember. They know exactly where they were and what they were doing when they learned of some tragic event. Whether it was when JFK was killed, or Martin Luther King. Or maybe it was Pearl Harbor or the death of Elvis or John Lennon. We all have those moments. I had two. As of yesterday, I now have another. Yesterday, I was at work when I heard some employees talking about Charlie Kirk getting shot. At that time, it was not known that he had died. I didn’t learn that for sure until I turned on the news on my way home from getting a haircut. There are many polarizing political voices out there, who stir up so much hate and vitriol. Charlie Kirk was different. Yes, he had Conservative beliefs and values, but he believed in having conversations. He would listen to the other side and then reasonably counterargue his case. Many times, he left the other person speechless. He never raised his voice, or called people names, or talked down to people. He just wanted to have conversations with college students and persuade them to think differently.
The following is from a post I published four years ago. The story is my history, so it doesn’t change. On this anniversary of 9/11, I don’t plan to drink and watch 9/11 footage, but I am reading this post and seeing the lost faces and hearing the hushed voices and the deafening silence of a world that has come to a stop. My heart still feels pain every time I allow my mind to go back there, so I don’t go there often. I do walk through that day at least once a year, because I promised to never forget, and unless He takes my memory from me, I will keep that promise. So, anyway you can read it again if you wish, or for the first time. It is a little dated in parts, but I decided to leave it as it was.
On January 28, 1986, I remember walking into the main building at Clay County Central High School (now Rector High School), I was walking in front of the water fountains in the hallway across from the cafeteria during class time, when Bill Hurst came running around the corner. He slowed down just enough to tell me the Challenger just blew up after takeoff and he was out the door to go to tell the other buildings. The Challenger flight was a big deal. It was the first time they were taking a teacher into space, and she was going to teach some classes from space. The mission had been hyped for months, and everyone knew about it and schools all over the country were going to watch it live. Everyone on the crew of seven was on a special mission and the crew was known for its diversity. Christa McAuliffe’s (the teacher going to space) students were going to be at the launch. All of America was watching. All of America witnessed the moment seven Americans lost their lives just seconds after the country celebrated those same seven Americans for their diversity, their achievements, and their place in history. That was a day of broken dreams of so many, and devastation to so many others.
The second event I remember like it was yesterday, is September 11, 2001. I normally have a horrible memory, but there are moments of that day that are just frozen in time, like snapshots. I was attending the Defense Information School at Ft. Meade, Maryland, just 20 miles from Baltimore and 26 miles from Washington, D.C. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue that only God can create, and the air had a hint of chill that lets you know that autumn is closing in. Every morning, we started our day with physical training, followed by breakfast and morning formation before marching to school. On this day we were doing our final photo-journalism page for journalism school. Three of us chose to spend the morning with the Army Field Band. Once the instructor dismissed us, we walked across post to the building where the band rehearsed. We were having a relaxing morning, taking photos, enjoying the music, and just hanging out. When the band took a break, we all just waited for things to start up again. After quite a while, the colonel returned and said they were going to continue their break for a while longer. A few minutes later someone came in and was talking about an airplane that had hit the World Trade Center. Small planes had hit it before, it was interesting conversation, but apparently, all that was known was that an airplane had hit the building. Not long after that rumor started, someone came in and announced that everyone was to stay away from windows and doors. Ok, something strange was going on.
A few minutes later, I heard them talking about the airplane again and someone new entered the room and said that a second plane had hit the World Trade Center. Everyone who heard that knew immediately that it was a terrorist attack. The three of us had already packed up our camera equipment as it was clear the shoot was over. We weren’t sure what we should be doing because we were about a mile away from anyone who knew us. Finally, a sergeant major came in and asked if we were the journalism students. I said that we were. She said that our teachers want us to come back to school. I said, “We were just told not to get near doors or windows, and you want us to walk a mile back to school?” She sort of shrugged and told me that is what they want us to do. All we could do was what we were told. We grabbed our gear and started out.
As soon as we stepped outside, it was clear the world had changed, at least for the moment. As we walked back, there were armed guards at every street crossing, and there was very little traffic on the roads. There was no one outside besides us and the armed guards. We walked as fast as we could to get back to our classroom and when we entered, I saw snapshot one: Drill Sgt. Blackmon and our instructor were standing near the corner of the room watching a television mounted near the ceiling. Drill Sgt. Blackmon had her hand over her mouth and was wide eyed. When we entered the room, we saw a replay of the second plane hit the World Trade Center. That was the first that we had known about what was going on. When they noticed we were there, they told us to leave our things and go back to the barracks. We did. Before we got back to the barracks, we were getting information overload from people all around us. Cell phone service was out. The Pentagon had been hit. The National Security Agency, which was literally across the road from us, was a suspected target. We were going on lockdown. My only thought was to get to the payphone and call home while I still had a chance. I knew Mom would be worried sick knowing I was so close to D.C.
My room was on the second floor of the barracks and I got there as quickly as I could and made a bee line to the phone. There were not many people around as students were still making their way back from photo shoots and recordings. I tried to call Mom but got no answer. Grandma was the first person I could reach. It went something like this: “Grandma, I can’t find Mom or Dad. Tell them I am ok, but I may not be able to call them for a while. We are going on lockdown, but I will call when I get a chance.” She said, “What’s going on?” I said, “Turn on the T.V., Grandma, I have to get off the phone, other people need to use it. Tell everyone I love them.” I hung up. Less than 20 minutes later we lost landline also. I was so relieved that I reached home because most of my classmates didn’t.
Others kept pouring in as they were returning from their projects. Most people went to the dayroom where we all just gathered around the big screen television and watched as things unraveled. Grown adults in Army uniforms sat together in silence with tears streaming down their faces as they watched their fellow Americans die over and over and over again. Our drill sergeants were just there with us, no yelling, no orders, they were just there with us, part of us. At some point, one of my classmates, Pvt. Scheisser, realized that her mother was supposed to be on the flight that left Boston. She could not reach anyone in her family to get information. Drill Sgt. Blackmon’s husband worked on the Army side of the Pentagon and she couldn’t get in touch with him and didn’t know if he was dead or alive. All the staff knew people who worked at the Pentagon, but no information was getting through. All they could do was to watch the television and try to pick out their loved ones from the people on the screen.
We saw on the news that the President had ordered all planes to land. We were hearing fighter jets fly over occasionally, but for us, planes flying over was the norm. We were within thirty miles of Andrews Air Force Base, Bolling Air Force Base, Baltimore-Washington International Airport, Dulles International Airport, and Reagan National Airport. Half the time we couldn’t hear the drill sergeants during formation because of planes flying over. Within an hour it would be so quiet outside that is was surreal.
Once most everyone was back at the barracks, we had a formation. We were told that we were going on lockdown, which meant we were not to be outside the barracks and courtyard area. At night, we would have guards around the perimeter of the building. They took volunteers to be guards. The only place we could go outside this area was to the chow hall, and only then in groups. The tone of this formation was much different than usual. There was no yelling, no orders, just information. After formation we went to lunch. The cafeteria was serving in takeout boxes and we took our meals to the courtyard to eat. Snapshot 2: Drill Sgt. Waltman sitting with student soldiers eating lunch. That had never happened before. Drill sergeants were on a different level. They did not communicate with us on a person to person basis. They never spoke to one of us without a buddy and then we were standing at ease or at attention, not sitting in the grass eating lunch together chatting about what’s going on the world. This drill sergeant was putting himself on our level, was letting us know we were all in this together.
Most of the day we all just milled around, some in small groups, some alone. People would just sit and stare into space and not say anything, even when they were in groups. We didn’t know what to say. How do you comfort one another when everyone is feeling the same things: anger, sadness, pain, hatred, confusion? We wanted to know about our friend’s mother, about Drill Sgt. Blackmon’s husband, but no one could know. All we could do is wait. The day was like a dream or maybe like a funeral. Everyone was quiet. Even when people would speak, they were quiet. Maybe it was because the drill sergeants had quit yelling. Maybe it was because the planes were gone and there was no noise anywhere. I just remember it was so quiet.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the television. Before that day, I don’t remember seeing people die in real time on television. I was seeing people fall to their deaths, just one after the other. Either because they could no longer take the smoke or heat, or they knew there was no hope and they just wanted it over quickly. How do you make that decision? What must one be going through to decide to voluntarily fall hundreds of feet to their certain death? As a Christian, I think one either must have no faith, or one must have complete faith. I don’t know that there can be an in-between to make that leap. My eyes were glued to the television most of the day. I watched the same scenes over and over. People came and went, some stayed and watched most of the day, like me. Some stayed outside the room and watched through the window, maybe trying to keep some space between themselves and the horror on the screen or the emotion inside the room.
At some point in the afternoon, some cell phone service was restored and a few more people started making contact with loved ones. Drill Sgt. Blackmon heard from her husband and he was ok and helping at the Pentagon. At an afternoon formation, we were told that the President was going to speak at 8:30 if we wanted to watch in the dayroom. After dinner I was going to my room. I passed by Pvt. Schiesser’s room on my way and poked my head in to check on her. What I saw was snapshot 3: Schiesser Looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. I was prepared for the worst when she smiled and said, “She missed her flight, my mom missed her flight.” She and I, and our friend who had walked up behind me, at that moment all embraced and cried together. No better news could come from such a horrible day. The two people we were all concerned about, who were most likely harmed or dead, were found to be alive and well. Things seemed just a little better from that point on.
Everyone started pouring into the dayroom as it got closer to 8:30. Days later, I noticed a sign on the dayroom wall that said maximum capacity 44. When the President came on the screen, there were probably over 120 people in the room. He looked tired and disheveled. I know that there were a lot of people in that room who did not like President Bush, but during his speech, you could have heard a pin drop. After, “and God bless America.” There was a roar of applause and approval. I believe that we all probably realized by then, that our peacetime enlistments had just changed to wartime service. We were a bunch of journalists and broadcasters, who got into this for any myriad of reasons, except to go to war. Many of us would end up going for multiple tours. There may be a couple who didn’t make it back. Fortunately, I was saved from the horrors of war. This is where I thank God for a bad hip and knee, and whoever decided I should go to Korea as my first tour of duty.
A couple days later, we went back to class. The first time we were standing in formation and an airplane flew over, everyone stopped listening to the yelling drill sergeant, and he stopped yelling, and we all watched the plane. It was a very strange moment. I guess it was one we had to have, to start getting back to normal. We all seemed to have a much closer bond after 9/11. The next week we all graduated and moved on.
After 9/11 there were American flags flying everywhere. Everyone rallied behind the police and firefighters and other first responders. Support for the military was akin to that after World War II. Left and Right came together for once for one purpose, to let our enemies know that Americans stand as one and nothing they do can change that. A little over a month after 9/11 I was in Korea, stationed at Yongsan Garrison, in Seoul. At Harvey’s bar, a place many of us frequented on weekends, the evening ended with Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” When the song came on, everyone stood up and put their arms around each other and sang. When I first arrived in Korea, we were restricted to post after 10 pm, so Harvey’s was usually packed. There may be a couple hundred people holding onto each other singing. By the time I left nine months later, when we no longer had a curfew, there may have been 40 people there, but every night ended the same, and I got chills every time. There is nothing like the comradery of soldiers, especially those with a cause. The wound was still fresh in those days and we were still in pain. In the daylight we did our jobs and we were strong and a mean green fighting machine. When we could unwind, it was ok to lean on one another and take care of each other, and nothing could bring a group of soldiers together like a patriotic song, whether it is sung by Lee Greenwood or Toby Keith (Toby got a sing-a-long too).
On the first anniversary of 9/11, I was back in DC, stationed at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. There were so many news programs and documentaries about that day, and I watched them all. Some I watched more than once. I watched and cried and emotionally wore myself out. I felt then, as I do now, we must remember how we felt that day and the days after. This world has not been the same since 9/11/2001. There is a whole generation of Americans that were not even born on that day, who have no idea what that day means and what it felt like. It was not an attack on New York City and the Pentagon, it was an attack on America. It didn’t just affect those who were there that day and who personally witnessed the smoke and the shutdown of everything around them. It affected all of us. To some extent, it took away America’s innocence. For the first time since Pearl Harbor, a foreign force attacked us on our own soil and made us look at the evil in the world. We were nonchalantly going about our lives, and selfishly enjoying a peace unknown by most, unaffected by a world of violence and tyranny on the other side of the globe. We were caught off guard and vulnerable. For the first time ever in this nation, a foreign force attacked civilians, everyday people; and the weapons used were our own planes filled with our own people, who were also, just going about their lives, going on vacation or to work, or to see grandma. I think that makes it worse, that they used our planes full of our people to bomb our buildings and kill over 3000 people. People are still dying from the effects of that day.
I continue to watch the documentaries every year because I feel a need to do so. I think there have been two years when I was out of place and unable to watch, but otherwise, I watched. There are some I see almost every year, and sometimes there are new ones. In one amateur video shot by a freelance photographer, I found one scene to be particularly powerful. There were two small groups of people protesting and counter-protesting in New York City a day or two after 9/11. A person from each group was in each other’s face screaming at each other for several minutes. Then, out of nowhere, both just started crying uncontrollably and then just embraced right there in the street and held onto each other. To me that just proved, if only for a moment, that the terrorists did right the opposite of what they tried to do. Instead tearing us apart, they brought us together.
I hope that 9/11 documentaries will continue to be shown every year, and I hope people will continue to watch them. We all said we would never forget, but collectively, our actions tell a different story. Twenty years ago, police were our heroes. Now there is a push to make them society’s villains. Twenty years ago, the flag meant unity and one nation, and we were proud to fly ‘Old Glory’. Now there is a push to make it a sign of nationalism and racism, and it is no longer welcome in areas it was once proudly flown. Twenty years ago, our government came together to condemn acts of terror on this nation. Now many of our government officials are calling each other terrorists. They have forgotten what terrorists are, and the evil they represent. I wouldn’t call, who I believe are the evilest of our government officials, terrorists.
A couple years after 9/11, Darryl Worley wrote a song that says what I felt at the time. Here are some of the lyrics:
Have you forgotten how it felt that day
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away
Have you forgotten when those towers fell
We had neighbors still inside
Going through a living hell
And you say we shouldn't worry 'bout Bin Laden
Have you forgotten
They took all the footage off my TV
Said it's too disturbing for you and me
It'll just breed anger that's what the experts say
If it was up to me I'd show it everyday
Some say this country's just out looking for a fight
After 9/11 man I'd have to say that's right
Maybe it breeds anger to see it. Maybe it just reminds us why we should be thankful for what we have and that we have the freedoms we have. Over the past month, I have been watching in horror as Afghanis desperately try to escape what they know is coming. I watched as young men hung on to an airplane that was about to take off, only for some to fall to their deaths. Some of these young men have known freedom their entire lives because of Americans in their country. Some of them were desperately trying to leave because they knew what it was like before the Americans arrived and they didn’t want to live like that again. I watched as mothers begged American soldiers to take their babies. Can you imagine a mother begging a stranger to take their baby to a far away land knowing they would never hear from that child again? That is desperation. This is the desperation of people who have known freedom and who know it is being taken from them. Many of these poor souls know they won’t escape death in the Taliban’s hands, so they will do anything to get away or die trying.
As an historian, I have seen where history has repeated itself many times, because people got complacent and forgot. At this moment in time, we fight over the stupidest stuff in this country. Our military commanders are being forced to focus on race relations and climate change, instead of protecting out country and our assets. Our government spends too much time forcing mandates that do nothing but divide us. It seems that all that matters is political correctness, tearing down the police, building tent cities for the homeless, allowing rioters, I mean protestors, to speak their minds through burning, looting and murder. They let anyone come into the country unvetted, and they try to force race wars and rekindle a civil war. Our government has nothing to do apparently. so they can do all of this, because they have forgotten. The have forgotten that we all need to stand together. Unfortunately, through their complacency we could very likely be getting primed for another devastating attack. I pray that isn’t the case.
Let us not forget 9/11/2001. It is a day we need to share with our children and grandchildren. Have them watch the documentaries with you. Please watch yourself. It is so important that we remember we are one nation and we need to take care of each other. If you watch the videos from 9/11, you will see people helping people. They don’t see color or political affiliation; they see fellow Americans in need. Let’s get back to that. Let us all get back to loving and caring for our fellow Americans and stop putting people in groups such as race, politics, vaccination status, professions, religion, etc. Let us not forget.
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