NINE - ELEVEN

by Danna Shirley

Where were you at 8:46 a.m. on September 11, 2001

My alarm sounded at 5:00 a.m. and I readied myself for the day. I arrived at the Ocean Springs Fire Department at 7:00 a.m. with no thought that this day would be different than any other.  I worked with 32 wonderful men, all part of a “family” that I called my own. Each morning the crew would go through their checklist of the pumper and its equipment and then settle down to breakfast, coffee, and the news…all to be interrupted if the tone sounded.

My office was near the front entrance to the Central Fire Station (Hwy 90) but I would make my way down the hall to the kitchen and dayroom often to conduct daily business. Later I would sometimes eat with the men and watch a little television on my lunch hour. I liked being the only woman in the department. Since I was the oldest employee there, I felt like the mother or the big sister to everyone.

This particular morning’s routine was interrupted with a commotion down the hall and then dead silence  . . . I knew something was wrong. As I emerged on the dayroom with the television in view and the news reporter’s voice in total disbelief, I began watching the report and saw the World Trade Center in smoke. All eyes were glued to the scene and all eyes were in shock.

My first thought was that this had to be an accident. It was a mystery how someone could not try to miss this huge building. We all waited for reports of an explanation and any kind of rationalization of what we were witnessing.

 

When the second plane repeated the accident, I thought, “This can’t be real; this CAN’T be happening!” I could hardly go down the hall afterward but it was harder still to stay away. One lone moment when I was in my office with the Assistant Chief, he made the comment, “Those buildings are coming down.”

I thought, “Surely not! How could he know for sure?” Then he said that all the fuel on the planes would melt the steel.

We were dumbfounded as we watched the first building collapse . . . and then the second. I ran to my office in tears. I covered my eyes and sobbed and sobbed. Mark Hare, my Fire Chief, was right behind me. He knelt down on the floor beside my chair and put his arms around me. I put my teary eyes on his shoulder and thought, “Oh, no, I’m going to get mascara on his white uniform.” He spoke soothing words that I don’t even remember.

Then it got very personal as all of these wonderful firefighters watched, listened, and gave their commentary on what was happening now, what would happen next, and what the New York firefighters were facing in the heat of the battle.

Within the week our own fire department was inundated with thank you notes, posters from elementary school classrooms, dinners, snacks, and goodies from our local citizens as they expressed to us the appreciation and gratitude they felt for our commitment to them. It was an outpouring of recognition that we all understood but wished it didn’t happen in this way.  It reminds us to pause and give thanks for those who give their all.