I work nights, so I was off that sunny Tuesday morning, listening to the Curtis and Kuby Radio Show and working on my garage. Suddenly, someone on air notified the battling hosts that "something just happened at the World Trade Center." Moments later we all learned that in fact, an aircraft had deliberately crashed into one of the Towers. I knew that Emergency Services would be needed so I headed in to the city help the guys out.

When I heard that a second plane had just crashed into the South Tower, I threw on my hazard lights as I raced into westward, following dozens of other cops and firemen doing the same thing, staying on the shoulder and the horn the whole time. By the time I got to the Belt Parkway, the South Tower had fallen. "Well, we're going to war," I said aloud. A tremendous mushroom of ash billowed up from where Two World Trade Center once stood, as an endless stream of burning smoke poured out from the lone North Tower. The Belt was now a parking lot, so I went through the Canarsie section of Brooklyn to get to our headquarters at Floyd Bennett Field.

My car breaks were smoking by the time I arrived. I knew that all on shift were already at the Trade Center, and all off duty personnel arrived about the same time I did. Headquarters was frantic, listening to the radio while loading every piece of heavy machinery, power tools, chem-bio gear, and rescue equipment onto any vehicle we could find.

Then the North Tower collapsed.

We knew our guys were down there and some were certainly in the towers.

Within minutes I was behind the wheel of a diesel fuel truck following a caravan of twelve vehicles including armored personnel carriers, and generator trucks heading towards the rising cloud that had engulfed our city. When we arrived at the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, we were turned back; too much debris had closed the tunnel down.

Speeding north, we crossed over the Manhattan Bridge as thousands were racing in the opposite direction. Of all that I saw that day, one thing really sticks in my mind. It was the image of the largest American flag I had ever seen flying over the Manhattan tower of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Against this unimaginable explosion of black smoke were the striking red, white and blue colors of our flag.

The contrast and symbolism was just surreal.

When we arrived at the rally point, our on-duty guys started walking in. Struggling for air, they cursed, coughed, puked and cried; they looked like snowmen. We took a head count, heard about all our missing, and formulated a battle plan.

We couldn't breathe or see; there were no masks to go around. So we ended up falling back to Stuyvesant High School to re-set up the command center. At this time, it was reported that eight airliners were unaccounted for. So every time an Air Force Fighter screamed overhead, we all looked skyward anticipating another terrorist attack.

Seven World Trade Center, with its 40 stories, was a roaring fireball due to the thousands of gallons of Diesel fuel stored there.

After 7 came down, we formed into rescue teams, five to six cops and a sergeant. Most of our vehicles were trapped inside "Ground Zero", so we humped over rope, tools, gear, anything and everything we could carry.

It was nothing short of hell on earth; a fiery snowstorm. We started looking, climbing all over, under, and into the pile that was but a few hours ago the Twin Towers. Through the night and into the morning, we crawled and called and didn't leave until Wednesday afternoon.

The most profound site upon leaving the city was that of National Guardsmen in Humvees and manning 50 caliber machine guns, guarding the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

I arrived back home late in the afternoon, got a little sleep and spent the next couple of nights down there, and have been ever since. I do want to say something about the type of men down there; everyday, more and more volunteer and retired cops and firefighters arrived to help. Most were from Long Island, upstate New York and New Jersey. But in a few days there were guys from Rhode Island, Vermont even San Francisco all doing the same thing, trying to pull someone out.

Many politicians now talk about forgiveness or whether we are doing the right thing by defending ourselves. But I've been to too many funerals, been recovering people for too long and lost too many friends. I have no room for forgiveness in my heart.

For all the time I was there, I was fortunate enough to be a part of one of the few successful rescues that took place at "Ground Zero." That was good.

I only wish I could have done more.

Officer Kenny
Shield # 9971 - NYPD Emergency Services Unit

Through The Ashes

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