Reflections From Ground Zero
Updated: Sep 11
These are my initial thoughts on the day's events. This was originally sent in the form of an email to a private list group. At the time, Peter Merholz asked me if it was ok to post it to his blog. In some way, I consider this my first "unofficial blog post," and for that I will always be thankful to Peter.
Peter's intro:
All week, I'd been too busy and scattered to think deeply about the tragedy — other factors in my work and personal life (client demands, preparing for conferences, ending a romantic relationship, having two stranded Austinites staying in my house, etc.) left me little time for reflection. Yesterday morning was my first stretch of time alone since the hijackings, and I sent the following email to a small list I'm on. In it, Deborah Schultz relates her graveyard shift participation with the Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicle team. The combination of simple human encounters over things like Cracker Jacks with the description of the enormity of the damage touched me deeply, and for the first time since the misery that befell us Tuesday morning, I cried. Deborah has given me permission to reprint it here.
The First 48 Hours
I am one of the lucky few who have been able to channel my shock into action by being in the first group of Red Cross volunteers trained and deployed. On Wednesday evening I worked with a great group of volunteers setting up one of the largest shelters for 70 displaced elderly. Last night I worked on the scene. Both events extremely emotionally impactful in different ways. Being on the scene, however, is something truly indescribable.
I haven't processed anything yet, but after finally getting a good night's sleep, I will give it a try. It somehow feels strange to write this all down, very ego-centric. But people have been asking me what it was like, so I am describing the scene not because I think I did anything special, but to let you all know what I saw and felt. [Doc, please feel free to post.]
Last night (Thursday), I spent a 12-hour shift from 6PM - 6AM on a Red Cross ERV (Emergency Response Vehicle) with two other Red Cross team leads and 3 other regular folks like me. The ERVs are the red and white trucks that hand out supplies to the men and women on the scene - the firemen, policemen, and construction workers, etc. Driving downtown in the van in the dark from the Upper West Side felt like a descent into Dante's Inferno. The further south we got, the quieter and eerier it became: first checkpoint at 14th Street, then below Canal, then pulling up to the corner of Church and Duane. The smell was strong and memorable, bringing me back to a school fire I lived through in fourth grade.
All around us were National Guardsmen, Army personnel, HUMVs, police, firefighters, construction workers, and media vans. There was even a group of Franciscan friars walking the scene along with religious Jews helping to comb the wreckage for bodies. Most people were wearing masks of all types. Red Cross had told us to be prepared, but it is impossible to prepare someone for entering a war zone. I found it hard to get my bearings. Nothing looked the same. The landmark I always used was gone. Only the street signs told me where I was. Floodlights lit the area. There was white ash everywhere. It was surreal.
We parked the truck and set up shop. Loaded with coffee, power bars, sandwiches, juice, water, and treats, as well as T-shirts, socks, gloves, etc. We opened our doors, turned on our lights, and spread the word where we were parked. We heard that the fireman needed encouragement to eat. So rather than wait around for them to come to us, we loaded two boxes with supplies, put on our goggles and respirators, and walked down the street. At first, we went up to everyone and asked if they wanted anything. We often used hand signals because the masks impeded speech.
It is amazing how quickly you become sensitized to who is too tired or shocked and who can be approached. The men are exhausted and sometimes don't know what they want. So we tipped our boxes forward to show them what we had, and I watched the eyes of the individual workers to see if they registered interest. If I saw a flicker, I walked over and asked them if they wanted something.
Surprisingly, the biggest hit was the box of Cracker Jacks and Oreos. Somehow, the simple pleasure of a bag of Cracker Jacks brought smiles to the faces of these larger-than-life workers. We joked with a number of them, and they always asked if there was a prize inside. Every single one of these men and women thanked us for all our hard work. When we handed them food, they put a large hand on our shoulders, looked us square in the eye, and said a simple but impactful "thank-you". I was humbled. I answered over and over - "thank- YOU". One fireman, tired and cold, amazingly said to me, "We are paid for this, but you come here on your own". Can you believe these guys?!
A fellow volunteer and I walked one or two blocks further south. I stood on the corner of Church, by the Millennium Hotel/Century 21/Borders (the east side of the WTC) and stared in disbelief at what I saw. The two-dimensional photos cannot communicate the carnage. I couldn't tell which pile was which building. I won't waste words describing it.
Then the wind shifted, and the precautionary Evac was sounded...everyone started jogging north...no time to think... we ran back up the block-- back to the safety of the van, and we pulled back to a safer zone. Headquarters called and asked us to relieve another van, but by the time we got to the new spot, another van had arrived, so we decided to ride around and find a spot that wasn't being well serviced. There are plenty of ERV's and Salvation Army vehicles in the center of things, but we decided to find a corner a bit further away. We pulled up in front of a group of con ed workers, and they swarmed us for supplies.
Suddenly there was a crack of lighting that lit up the sky..This electrical storm added even more to the surreal and otherworldly nature of the scene. We turned around to look at the sky and were amazed by what we saw...the shadow formed by the smoke and remaining buildings etched a phantom WTC tower on the horizon. It was shockingly real-looking.
Then the sky opened, and one of those torrential NY storms brought a deluge. We took shelter in the van. Our first thought was that once the rain let up, our coffee, socks, towels, and T-shirts would be a big hit. We prepped. Once the rain subsided, we found a new location on the corner of Greenwich and Duane. Greenwich is the main convoy route for trucks going down to the scene and back, as well as the walking-out route for a lot of the guys coming off duty to go back to their cars.
The rain started again, and as we got the word out, cold, shivering, and wet workers swarmed our van. We handed out T-shirts, socks, underwear, gloves, and lots of coffee and sandwiches. When we ran out of T-shirts, we made scarves from four pairs of socks and handed them to the men to keep the pouring rain from running down their backs. We got a bunch of ponchos from another Red Cross van and handed them out to the inadequately dressed construction workers as well.
The convoy drivers stuck in their trucks began backing up in front of us, so we ran down the convoy in the rain taking orders for coffee and food. The six of us got a system together and started collecting orders and delivering them down the line. Cold and wet, the firemen arrived at our van, some of them looking dazed, some of them just tired. We smiled, we flirted and joked..."latte anyone, shot of bourbon, champagne?" A unit of firemen walked by us stoically, carrying a body bag; we can only assume they were carrying out one of their own.
We continued like this till 6 AM when we finally ran out of coffee. Then we packed up and headed back to headquarters. I exchanged phone numbers with my new friends, and we hugged and kissed as if we had known each other for years. I now have a small understanding of how my friends who have served in the army feel about the buddies in their unit.
There are so many scenes, images, sights, and smells engraved in my mind. I feel privileged and lucky to have served these brave men and women. I am touched to the soul by their courage and spirit.
