My Father's Shoes 9/11/01

By Michael Carolan

On the morning of September 11, 2001, everything seemed normal - another day in New York City.

Everyone rushing off the trains, up and down the avenues attempting to get to work on time. I stopped at the coffee vendor outside the office on 31st Street before attending the second of two corporate classes at 21 Penn.

I said hello to the boys in our corporate Post Office garage. John, the manager, would share a joke or two before the daily routine would really get rolling. My normal day would put me out in "the field" visiting my many garages.

At about ten minutes to eight, I started up to the office. The class started at eight, so this morning seemed extra long. Normally starting at 7a.m., there was an hour to talk with John, the guys, and just see the activity on the streets.

It was a beautiful morning or so I remembered thinking. At 8 a.m. class began with coffee and discussions. At this point in time the day was nothing more than a blur, the same old thing. It was like replaying a video game from the start over and over again.

The class was extremely boring; our instructor bored us with personal stories and teased us with the amount of time until the break. Everyone was waiting for a break so as to get a smoke or whatever, just to get out of this room for a few minutes. We were on the 12th floor, facing downtown, and the blinds were down due to the brightness of the summer sun.

"A plane just hit one of the Twin Towers!" someone said entering the class. He figured it was a small private plane. We opened the blinds and the sixteen of us viewed the smoking hole in the side of the tower. From this 12th floor on 31st Street it did not seem to be as big as it actually was.

After about one minute we watched another plane coming from the right. Its pace was fast and furious, and I thought it was circling in for photos or whatever film they could get. From were I stood it didn't look like a commercial airliner; and I remember thinking where is this plane going? One of my friends said exactly what I was thinking out loud.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS GUY GOING?" I will never forget Tom saying.

Seconds later, we all watched this jet slam into the south tower. A ball of flame mushroomed up as others who had just entered the room let out a collective scream of horror and disbelief.

I grabbed the phone, called my wife and told her to stay inside and turn on the TV. Rightly so, I believed we were attacked by terrorists. Johanna was completely unaware of what was happening as I heard the usual morning at the Carolan house with the children in the background.

"Oh my God!" was Johanna's reacted upon turning on the TV and seeing what I was witnessing live with my own eyes. She asked me where I was where I planned on being. I told her I was in Midtown and had no plans to go anywhere.

Little did I know.

I told Johanna I loved her, and that I'd see her tonight and hung up as we said goodbye. Everyone in the room grabbed for the phone, as cell phones were ringing and calls going out frantically.

As an operator of parking garages, our company has garages and lots all over the city, including downtown Manhattan. As other operations people and I gathered at the Operations Office between 7th and 8th Avenues we listened to breaking news of other planes going down around the United States.

A woman was on the phone talking with her daughter who was in one of the towers. Her daughter was fine and after being told to first return to her desk was now being ordered to get out of the building.

I saw fear in her eyes as she hung up the phone.

My boss was sitting at his desk trying to remain calm and keep order as our Director of Security readied a list of all locations. We started combing through the list to determine which were in direct danger.

Carlos was the Regional Supervisor for the area of attack. As we looked through the list, Carlos phoned my boss Joe and told him what was going on downtown. Carlos was next to the Trade Center a few minutes before "it" happened. Joe barked out specific orders to "get the hell out there, take all employees and get out!" Joe then told Carlos to "Call me every half-hour without fail!"

We at the operations office all agreed that we would start calling the locations in that area and tell everyone to lock up and get out. As I was given my list to start calling - Joe got a cell phone call that our "Gotham Garage" was on fire, and sent me to check it out. "Gotham" was right next to the Empire State Building, and I immediately took off running. I was at the garage in seconds, passing crowds of people frantically moving in every direction. I climbed under its half open doors and saw the manager Jamie. "Is everything okay here?" "Yes," he replied, and told me that the police had asked him not to allow anyone in, only out. He had closed up for security reasons. Jamie and his crew checked the garage and everything looked fine.

To this day no one knows who or where the call about the Gotham Garage came from.

Seeing that everything was okay, I began heading down to other locations along Broadway.

I remember thinking that everyone in the city was trying to use their cell phones now for mine was working on and off. I finally reached Joe, he told me that he had not heard from Carlos since the last call and that he had tried reaching him several times. We both hoped it was due to the massive mobile phone traffic and outages. Like a drill sergeant Joe ordered, "Go down as far as you can and try to find Carlos and get him and his guys out of those garages!" Before hanging up Joe told me to call him every half-hour and to "Stay out of trouble!"

As I continued down Broadway, I noticed everyone else was going in the opposite direction - uptown! Winded from running, I had lost all track of time as I reached our Varick Street location.

I was not familiar with the area since I worked in midtown. I only knew Varick Street because I had attended a meeting there once and I took a car!

I was there hoping to find Carlos and crew inside the garage, but before I could enter I saw more confusion. People were crying, yelling and running north. I was in the middle of a "War Zone."

The South Twin Tower had collapsed.

Everyone was covered in gray dust, as if they had bags of pre-mixed concrete poured over them. Firemen, police and men wearing jackets blazoned with the letters FBI gathered as if huddling to make a game plan.

I was standing next to several other men, some construction workers, some businessmen and some store workers. The conversation among the uniformed men was about 7 World Trade Center and that several of their guys were unaccounted for. They were visibly upset and the one in charge grabbed at my collar; "We need help."

That moment changed my life forever.

The FBI seemed to select people based on gut feeling; the construction workers and myself, skipping several others who seemed able bodied. I was in a suit…

Why me?

I was okay with being picked out, but I didn't understand why.

Next thing I know, I'm atop a fire truck heading down West Broadway. It was the first street sign I noticed - I remember that I was not sure what we were going to do, but I was still looking for our parking garages to see if they were closed, so I could call my boss once we got to were we were going.

We raced past more people heading uptown when suddenly everything got black as night and scorching hot.

The fire truck backed in reverse. West Broadway was empty as far as traffic was concerned, but many cars had been abandoned in the middle of the street as well as the sides. We seemed to be going backwards almost as fast as we had been going forwards.

The North Tower was falling.

People screamed. Clouds of dust were everywhere. Rocks and pebbles seemed to splatter like rain. Suddenly it seemed like we started back in again. We were basically stuck because another fire truck was blocking our way. I had no idea where we were. We got out and everyone grabbed at the hoses and gear. There wasn't much talk while we were moving, but it was briefly said that we would be trying to get "West under control." It all reminded me of a Vietnam movie.

There were hundreds of firemen everywhere, one was yelling for a chauffeur to move an "abandoned" fire rig; hoses were everywhere, entangled around posts, street signs, other cars and other hoses. The street was covered with about three to four inches of what looked like wet cement. As we moved forward, I looked up to see where I was… I had no idea how far or how close I was for that matter.

Then the heat hit me. Before me lay 50 to 100 cars afire. Up the street in the blackness I heard loud explosions. Everyone speculated just what those explosions were - rounds of ammo? Gas pipes from the buildings?

Suddenly, the Captain, or who I believe was the Captain said to me… me?

"Take these men and this three inch hose - hook up and start putting out fires!"

ME?

"Okay"

"And put something over your face. We don't know what the hell we're breathing." At this point I had nothing as far as equipment, and we were instructed to grab any turnout gear we could find from the abandoned rig, which was next to nothing.

The driver of the truck I was on whirled around the corner. He was really pissed off and yelled for everyone to "Get the fuck out of the way!" He drove up on the curb and took off. Next thing I know, he's flying up the side street smashing through an abandoned station wagon.

And got to where he wanted to go.

We were unsuccessful at finding much of anything. I had my shirt over my face and I found a fire fighters turnout jacket in rubble under the rig and put it on.

The jacket was filled with gloves, tools and lights. Why was it on the floor?

We all pulled hoses throughout the streets, but the hydrants were not working. We hooked up to stand pipes from buildings. As if a giant stationery warehouse had blown up, paper was floating everywhere. Floating and burning.

The fires too, seemed to be floating through the air, catching onto endless mounds of stationery littering the ground before flying off again. It was just like dominos.

I was holding a nozzle, spraying one car after another. There were so many trucks, mail trucks, Fed Ex vans, even taxis. Did everyone get out of that city bus?

The heat was unreal.

A truck pulled up and dropped off wet rags for us to wrap and clean our faces. The taste of cement and acid filled my mouth. I remember wiping my face with the first rag and turning it black. It hurt to wipe my face, as if I had very bad sunburn.

One by one, we kept putting out the fires as fast as we could. Sometimes we had to stop and free up all the tangled hoses.

Covered in soot, feeling exhausted I thought that these men do this everyday.

My father did this.

I know I was walking in his shoes.

All the others were exhausted as well, bending over at every break to get air.

I was listening to the firemen talking and speculating when my cell phone rang. I could tell by the caller I.D. that it was Johanna.

I told her everything was all right but I had to go. I couldn't tell her where I was or what I was doing. I felt pretty bad for not telling her, but I would just tell her later.

The firemen asked if they could use my phone to call their wives. It was passed around until it seemed to stop working. Men were frantically calling home, relaying info to relay to other firefighters' wives. I heard many comments. At least 300 firemen dead. My heart dropped.

My father Gerry, was FDNY.

He had past away years before, but he was on my mind all day because I was doing what he did for that moment. Perhaps that is why I was picked.

At that moment an F-16 fighter flew overhead.

Every firefighter and police officer in the zone stopped what they were doing and froze. We had no idea what was going on outside the area we were working. It was unreal. Minutes later a firefighter approached me and asked if I had his jacket. I told him that I had found it under the abandoned rig.

He sighed and said, "I've got to find the rest of my truck. I've got to find my guys." It was bittersweet. I was happy that he was alive and yet I wondered about the rest of the men from his House.

The rest of the day continued in the same fashion. I remember speaking with Johanna several more times, finally telling her what happened and where I was. I found out myself how close I was when we were ordered to pull back. The building we were working next to was about to fall. It was 7 World Trade Center. I was next to #7 and the North Tower remains the whole time. I really had no idea with all the chaos, smoke and fire. Again, it was unreal. After pulling back with a crew of men several blocks, another Fire Captain suggested that I should go, "You don't have to be here."

He thanked me and said that everyone was waiting for #7 to fall before anything else could be done. Again, he thanked me, but I remember not wanting to leave… I felt guilty like I should stay and help.

"You've been here all day. Go, there isn't anything you or I can do now."

I thought of Johanna and our kids.

And walked away.

On the long trek back to my office I heard that #7 had collapsed.

Exhausted, I wondered if this happened here, what was going on around the world? I hoped that no one else had been hurt or killed especially those I knew and loved.

This is a day that I will never forget. Finally I got home to my family. I was exhausted and filthy, but could not pry my eyes from the television, hoping that nothing else was going to happen and that they would find large groups of people alive in the tower remains.

I laid down around midnight, replaying the whole day over and over again in my head. F-16s were still patrolling the skies as I went to my son's room and laid in his bed thinking about my own father laying next to me when I was a boy. I thought of all the sons whose fathers may not be coming home tonight, and thanked God that I had a chance to help in some small way.

I thanked God for my wife, my daughter and my son. I thanked God for keeping me safe and seeing yet another side of my father.

As I lay in bed with my two-year-old boy who knew nothing about this day from any other, I knew this day would change my life and the world… forever.

Through The Ashes

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