As an ironworker with Local 361, I was assigned to a job in Queens on Monday, the tenth of September 2001. I remember the amazing view we had of the Twin Towers that day, but little did I know that it would be my last time. I was off Tuesday, September 11th, and like most people, watched from the safety of my own home as the world changed forever. I was glued to the TV all day and by 11pm, I finally drifted off to sleep.

Then the phone rang. Three of us hopped in a truck and headed into the city. Due to the numerous checkpoints on the Long Island Expressway, we didn't arrive at the Trade Center until 3-3:30 am. Again more soldiers, more checkpoints, and after showing our Union Cards we were finally allowed into "Ground Zero." The sight of sheer devastation moved me to tears. My first recollection is the collapsed wreckage of the forty-story World Trade Center #7.

Best way I can describe the operation in those first hours was that of controlled chaos. We were quickly assigned to one of the pedestrian bridges, but there were so many ironworkers that you couldn't get hold of a torch. We joined a bucket brigade desperately trying to find survivors. Right away we thought we had found a firefighter alive, but he was gone.

We were jubilant when they rescued an NYPD Officer who had fallen 86 stories when one of the Towers collapsed around him. It was nothing short of miraculous.

By dawn, I finally got hold of a torch and went to work cutting and clearing out the Westside Highway so the heavy cranes could come in. We were there until about one to two in the afternoon. But the stress of cutting steel, passing the unending buckets and searching for people finally wore us down.

I worked nights for the next two weeks, and quit twice, I won't tell you why. I can never forget the piles of body bags, crates of them, or the bittersweet feeling at finding a body. The sadness of it all, but at the same time knowing that a family would have some type of closure.

When it became apparent that there weren't going to be any more survivors, I decided it was time to go. After cutting steel for more than two weeks, both my body and my mind were exhausted.

Never in my life would I have thought I'd see anything like Ground Zero. I was amazed how everyone worked together as one. Ironworkers came in to volunteer from as far away as Ohio and Pennsylvania. Everyone wanted to help; all had to be there. You can see what kind of men they all are. So many volunteers, we couldn't walk ten feet without someone offering you everything from tools clothes, and shoes to food and water. I witnessed both the best and worst of the world simultaneously.

Of all the victims, I'll never forget the images of the women and children we found. A friend of mine sifted out a child or what was left of her still clutching a teddy bear.

What can I say, I wish I was never there, but again, I felt that I had to be. For a long time I couldn't sleep after that. Time will never heal these wounds and I'll never forgive those who did this.

Ed Fritz
Ironworkers
Local 361

Through The Ashes

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