18 years ago today, my mom was getting ready to leave for school, to work at her job as a teacher in Manassas Virginia. My dad went to work at his fire department, Dulles International Airport, early in the morning. He remembers watching Flight 77 taking off at the runway.
Business went as usual at the department. After roll call, they set about with gear maintenance, and small jobs. Then around 9:00am, one of my dad's friends turned on the TV, and was shocked to see the Twin Towers in flames. The whole department was empty, except for that one breakroom with the TV. A few were in tears, a few with blank expressions, all shocked to see what was happening. One of his friends said, "My God, we are at war". Everyone knew what he meant.
Soon after 9:30, they learned that the Pentagon was hit. The chief yelled out that they were going. They were called to the Pentagon.
My dad threw on his gear, and called my mom who was in hysterics. When he said he was going to the Pentagon, she was understandably upset. Then the entire fire station left towards the wreckage of the Pentagon.
My dad drove one of the trucks there, and helped stop the blaze, and ensure folks got out. He, along with several of his fire fighter friends, volunteered to help search for dead or wounded people. All night long, my dad would tag body parts - half burned entrails, arms, legs, and pieces of someones head. My dad didn't sleep for almost a week after that. Neither did my mom.
My dad never told me this, it was my mom. She said that he didn't even tell her everything he saw.
A few days ago, one of my dads close friends who was with him at the Pentagon, died due to not wearing a proper face mask, and getting cancer.
My dad went outside this morning at 5:30, and he has been slowly working on small projects. He wants nothing to do with the TV today, and he just wants to be let alone. I can honestly say, that this event changed his life.