In Part III of this five part series, licensed veterinary technician, Bash Halow, recounts the unsettling scene that was 9-11 in the hours after the attack.
Paper and Plasterboard Dust Everywhere
I walked all around the city that day, even to places I should never have been allowed, but the chaos created cracks in the check points so I got through. I took my camera which was filled with shots of both melting towers and now took pictures of the constant smoke and the winter storm of dust that was everywhere east of the disaster. I took pictures of the ash covered firemen and the long, quickly assembled blood lines where each donor had their blood type magic-markered on their arm or printed on sheets of paper.
Elsewhere I saw people with their heads covered in Saran Wrap because they were afraid the explosion contained biological agents. I wandered around the outside of City Hall and watched volunteers hammer together makeshift stretchers out of the lumber stripped from nearby construction sites. I witnessed whole dump truck loads of dust-masked volunteers, search and rescuers, drive off and
disappear into the heat, smoke and black of the wreckage beyond. I stopped to sift through the sheets and sheets of paper that blanketed all the streets and filled the gutters. Here was a trading order, 2100 shares purchased for 25 3/4; a Morgan Stanley conference room voucher requesting hot coffee and danishes; the technical specs to a building’s water sprinkler system. I stopped on the corner of Reade and West Broadway to watch flames consume the bottom floors of World Trade Building Number Seven until a policemen asked me, “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said get out of here. I’m sorry that there aren’t some bodies for you to see.” I wanted to tell him that it was impossible not to be mesmerized by the enormity of the scene, but I realized too that he was probably tense and following orders and trying to keep the casualties low, so I swallowed my anger at his accusation and obeyed his orders.
By the time that I reached the west side again, a break in the smoke allowed me to see a small stream of water being directed onto the heap that was once the South Tower. That tiny, tiny stream and that mountain of rubble were a disheartening combination. The heroic, hard effort behind it was very moving. You had the sense that the fire was going to burn for days and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
An Unprecedented Response
If there was any one thing I learned from my tour of the downtown on September 11th, 2001, it was this: New York City’s response time to the disaster was unprecedented. In only a few short hours, thousands had been organized, mobilized and were in place. By 2 p.m., Houston Street (a major east/west conduit) was lined with around 200 sanitation trucks ready to remove debris. Twenty-third street was similarly lined with buses to ferry people (trapped by the bridge and tunnel closures) home to their respective boroughs. Police were everywhere. In a city used to pandemonium, things were safe, secure and controlled. It was a feat of urban planning and good government that should go down in the history books.
That night, I went to the bar across the street from where I live and watched the events of the day replayed on television. The crowd was somber and respectful, but familial in a way that you don’t often see in New York. I began to hear stories about people who lived or worked in the area; tales of people who had skipped a meeting which would have put them in one of the Towers, or who got up late that day, or who were out of town. All the stories were near-miss stories. I was surprised to hear so many. If I heard a dark story it was about someone who was still missing. At that time of the rescue operation, there was much hope in the word ‘missing’.
There was an intense longing to do something, to contribute, to aid. I watched many New Yorkers organize candlelight vigils, donate blood or offer to volunteer, but relief poured into the city and most of us were left with nothing to do but live with whatever uncomfortable thoughts and feelings we had.
[…] Read Part III […]