It’s been 20 years, and I’m a lot older now than I was on September 11,2001, but the memory is seared into my mind like it was yesterday.
On my ship, the cruiser USS MOBILE BAY, I was a Firecontrolman 2nd Class. I had been in the navy for five years and had been married for just under a year. I had finished a tour in Yokosuka Japan and was enjoying being back in the states again as a young married man.
My ship had just finished a yard period and was doing some basic phase training off the coast of San Diego. I had just stood the midnight to four watch, and had been granted late sleepers on account of the schedule.
The berthing cleaners were talking near my rack in excited, albeit hushed, tones. Something was wrong, but in my groggy state, I didn’t know what it was. Having been up most of the night before for maintenance, I had just hoped to sleep in a little, as has been custom. With those guys talking, it would be impossible!
One of them said, “Look! A plane hit the World Trade Center!”
I rolled out of my rack and slumped on the floor, exhausted. Putting my flip-flops on (one dares not walk in berthing without them), I assumed a little Cessna had hit the big building. No big deal. The FAA would do an investigation while a team of industrial cleaners would come fix up the building.
And I really just wanted those guys to shut up.
“Another one!” the guy shouted.
I walked over to the television in our lounge and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I asked what happened. I still couldn’t fathom anything bigger than a small private plane lost in the fog.
When they told me two passenger planes flew into the World Trade Center, I stopped dead in my tracks.
I looked at the screen and saw that it was indeed not a little Cessna. The explosion told me that things wouldn’t be the same for a very long time, if ever again.
All I knew to do was get ready. I don’t really even know why I was getting ready, but I felt I should. Before I had even put both feet into my coveralls, I heard over the 1MC: “This is the TAO from Combat…All Hands! Flex Air! Flex Air!” Suddenly, I had more motivation to get ready. I was part of the response team for air defense. I raced up to the Combat Information Center (called “Combat” or “CIC on ships) and checked in. Already the FAA had grounded all aircraft. Everything in the air was directed to land at the nearest airport. My ship, the USS Mobile Bay, was tracking all aircraft still in the air over San Diego and Los Angeles. I watched the screens, still groggy from a lack of sleep, hoping that nothing would happen, yet hoping something would at the same time (a sailor’s dream, I suppose).
It didn’t take long for me to start thinking about my wife, Alicia. Once the adrenaline had slowed from a potential combat situation, I realized I had also heard an announcement that the ship was no longer sending or receiving email and wasn’t allowing phone calls out, which meant I couldn’t communicate with my wife. Alicia was on her own. It was the first time I ever felt worried. I didn’t think San Diego was a very big target, but the radar screens still showed a lot of aircraft in the air. And what if the attackers tried something else?
Thankfully, that stressful day passed without any attacks on San Diego. I was grateful, but still worried. I can’t really describe the fear that something might happen to the person you love more than anything in the world, and not being able to do anything about it. It’s the closest thing to being powerless as I’ve ever been.
The next morning we headed north, if I recall, having been relieved in the area by an aircraft carrier. Shortly thereafter we were off the coast of San Francisco, again in the air defense mode. Only by this time, the only thing in the air was combat patrols. It was eerie. I don’t know exactly how to explain it. The west coast has some of our country’s largest airports…and all of the air lanes were empty…
We spent the next week or so patrolling the West Coast of the States as part of Operation Noble Eagle. Somehow in there I was able to make contact with Alicia and found out that she was ok, although worried about me. She didn’t ask when I was coming home and I’m glad, because I had no idea at the time.
Add another week, and we pulled into Port Hueneme Navy Base, 185 miles from our apartment in San Diego, for planned calibration of our radar systems. This had been scheduled before the attack and with things slowly dying down, our commanders decided to send us in for our maintenance. I called my wife as soon as I could and she tore off to come meet me.
What a reunion! What joy and relief and excitement and power in that night! I know that some “old hands” who have fought in wars would laugh at us, but I had never been separated like that before. It was amazing to have her in my arms again.
After Port Hueneme, we did some more patrolling and finally arrived back in San Diego for upkeep.
I’ve heard many times from my parents and grandparents that there are certain events where you’ll never forget where you were when it happened. I’ve heard a number of people from my dad’s generation talking about Martin Luther King’s assassination and JFK’s assassination. I’ve also heard from my grandparents about the day Pearl Harbor was attacked.
Now I have my own. I’ll always be able to tell my kids and grandkids about how I woke up on a routine patrol off the coast of San Diego to the word about 9/11 and hearing “Flex Air!” And now I’m telling you.
Someday, I suppose, you’ll have your own moment that is so memorable that it stays with you for the rest of your life. You’ll know it the moment it happens. You’ll instinctively know that everything you thought was true isn’t anymore and things will never quite be the same.
When that moment happens, I hope you’ll remember every detail you can so you can pass on your history to those who come after you.
The thing that makes me the saddest is how quickly we went from being brothers in arms and ready to take on the world together as a united country to being back at each other’s throats. What could have been a great foundational event for America couldn’t even last for one generation. We’re more divided today than we were in 2001 and it’s heartbreaking.
This is why I’m so grateful for groups like Essential Church, Naomi, and others who are bridging gaps during devastating times like these. Support these organizations and be part of the change I wish would have been permanent after the 9-11 attacks.
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