I have been to hell and it is the World Trade Center, Ground Zero
By: Janet Crum
I have been to hell and it is the World Trade Center, Ground Zero.
The alarm clock sounded at 3:15 a.m., after a restless short night of sleep. Time to finish preparations for the special assignment Union/Titusville Rescue Squad is going to New York to help. By 4 a.m., the crew is assembled at the firehouse EMTs Allie Freeman, Jim Willut and me EMS Chief Janet Crum. We double- and triple-checked the rig. By 4:15 a.m. we met Pennington First Aid Squad and then joined up with three other squads at the New Jersey Turnpike entrance to start our trek northward.
Several State Troopers passed our small caravan and flashed their lights in salute. They knew where we were headed and understood our mission. The Turnpike was pretty still at 5 a.m., but what I slowly realized as we approached Newark Airport was the eerie emptiness of the sky no planes were overhead or "buzzing us" as we drove passed the airport. Allie and Jim rested in the patient module of the ambulance they had been up most of the previous night on a search assignment.
We were not prepared for our first view of the changed New York skyline a ghostly sight just before sunrise with the dust clouds ringing the area where the World Trade Center should be standing. I could hear their surprised reactions from the back.
Our initial staging point was the Gold Dome Student Center at Rutgers in Newark. By our 6 a.m. arrival the street was lined with BLS and ALS vehicles. EMTs and medics from paid and volunteer services all have come together. The Salvation Army greets us warmly at the first of several check points. They offer a hot breakfast and more. The long hallway plus two racquetball courts are lined with supplies: cases of everything from gloves and goggles to toothpaste and T-shirts. Their volunteers urged our volunteers to fill bags to take with us. Not knowing exactly what lay ahead, many of us declined. They insist, saying we may be able to share supplies with the firefighters in the trenches, so we finally fill a few bags to take along. We then received our orientation that ended with a moment of silence and closing prayer from the Salvation Army captain.
Off to our ambulances we went, ready to do whatever New York needed. The Gold Dome volunteers walked out with us, which seemed odd to me. They disappeared around the corner and lined the street. As we went by them, they were clapping and cheering shouting words of encouragement and thanks for coming.
Now over 25 ambulances were in our caravan. Our flashing lights were on and sirens blared as we sped toward our destination. Many of the intersections were secured by Newark Police officers, who also waved or saluted. Signs approaching the Holland Tunnel declared it was closed though Newark’s finest moved barriers and waved us onward. This also became an unnatural ride … only our emergency vehicles with lights on were in the tunnel, just us with a cascade of colors bouncing off the pale walls. We twisted through the streets of New York to pause at the Chelsea Pier on West Street along the Hudson River probably 30 or more blocks north of Ground Zero. Yet, even from this distance the plume of smoke and dust was mesmerizing. Now we were instructed to tape our unit designation on the windshield so all emergency personnel could easily identify us. Our personal credentials also were examined as we received our location assignment for the day. Most units were relocated to the Chambers and West Staging Area about four blocks north of the WTC. We were sent a block south of Ground Zero to the Battery Park Staging Area.
Driving through this part of the city was a unique experience. The financial district truly reflected a war zone as seen in W.W.I and II documentaries: National Guard Units or NYPD police on each corner and barricades everywhere. They waved us impatiently the wrong way down one way streets without the blink of an eye. Vehicles covered with inches of dust were everywhere. Almost every moving vehicle has some type of flashing red, yellow or blue light on it to designate its emergency status. We pass three tow trucks, each carrying a car that looks like it was dropped 50 feet or more. There are aid stations along the way manned by the American Red Cross and we even see an emergency veterinary services tent. Another sudden surprise was encountered when we turned onto West Broadway from Chambers Street smack ahead should have been the Twin Towers, now a seven-story high pile of twisted metal, fractured concrete and wires leading nowhere.
After completing a serpentine trail, we finally reached the Battery Park Staging Area, backed into our designated spot, and reported to the staging manager. He oriented us to this locale and routes to the nearby hospitals. The map we received at Chelsea Pier would be invaluable for the anticipated emergency calls. A common reaction at this point when looking to the north toward Ground Zero is for the jaw to strike the ground. Words cannot describe the inhumanity wrought before us. Volunteers quickly become subdued with the realization that little "save and rescue" can be done at this point. Our mission now is to protect the dedicated firefighters and support personnel who are working to recover the souls still locked in the World Trade Center complex.
In pairs we walk, drawn, toward the center. The block is very dusty and dirty. Thousands of papers are strewn on the pavement a memo requesting vacation time, financial projections, a performance review, all cast about the earth. It is apparent several of the vehicles along the way have not been moved since Sept. 11 and we wonder the fate of their owners. We walk by a noisy jackhammer that is working to restore electric service to this area. Suddenly we come to what certainly must be an aberration a lot piled with crushed vehicles but they are twisted fire trucks, police cars and remains of ambulances. This certainly cannot be real. Half a block to Ground Zero is another checkpoint. It is good we have our photo ID.
Then we reach the wire parameter patrolled by the National Guard. From here we stare in disbelief. Four huge cranes are lumbering with metal girders and concrete slabs. As these are shifted great clouds of dust and smoke rise up. A fleet of tractor-trailers and flat beds are lined up to receive the pieces. We are told only about 2 percent of the building material has been removed from the site. Slowly we go back to staging. It is good to see the New York sanitation truck go by and wet down the roadway. With each passing truck a trail of concrete dust is left behind. You can feel it against your cheeks and are glad to be wearing a hard hat, eye protection and a face mask.
We sit and watch all of the activity and realize another arena is being played out in front of us. Police and National Guard personnel walk by with groups of a dozen or so people. They walk west empty-handed and return later with a bag or a couple of suitcases in their arms. The police tell us these people live in the nearby condos and apartments that are unsafe at this point. They are escorting the residents to retrieve a few things from their homes. Some turn and look toward Ground Zero. Their tears just stream down their dusty cheeks. Some just look straight ahead with strong resolve. Some turn toward us and mouth a "thank you for coming." The groups remind me of refugees, clutching tightly to their possessions.
We see many groups marching by firefighters, ironworkers, police details and the National Guard each moving purposefully toward their assigned tasks. We see the intensity of their dedication and concern etched on their faces. Some groups are going to Ground Zero, others will be the protection around the Towers, and yet others have completed their work of the day and are leaving in a greater level of exhaustion than they ever have experienced before. We see some weary firefighters and share with them some items from the bags gathered at the Gold Dome much earlier that day. There are thousands who have come together with the same common purpose to help those at Ground Zero in whatever manner is needed, whatever it takes.
Periodically a couple of SUVs swing by with food prepared by local restaurants. Sandwiches, snacks and questionable coffee are freely distributed to the volunteers. In the evening there is a promise of a hot meal, which does arrive and is eaten watching the Ground Zero efforts. This is such a surreal setting. Another unnatural sight is the sky during the entire morning we only saw one airplane fly overhead, though helicopters constantly circle above us. Around 5 p.m. this starts to change when a slim trickle of planes resumed their task of transporting people from place to place.
The hours move on. Several BLS and ALS units snap into action an ironworker has fractured an ankle, a police officer with difficulty breathing. We’ve met some mighty fine people here. Robin is with the BLS unit from Bloomsbury in Hunterdon County. Medics Stevie and Ted from Capital Health Systems stop by on their way back to Trenton. The NYPD officers protecting our intersection relate where they were and what they did Sept. 11. We enjoy the interaction with our fellow emergency workers and exchange pins and hats with them. I am honored to wear the NYPD 69th Precinct lapel pin on my EMS shirt. Allie proudly sports an NYPD baseball cap. By 6 p.m. we are the second BLS in line ready to respond. We are scheduled to depart soon, we think.
Evening comes and yet another truly unnatural setting surfaces. The 30- to 50-story skyscrapers that line the route to Ground Zero are dramatically dark. There is no power in this section of the financial center. The mighty banks of emergency lighting are thrust into action. The glaringly harsh artificial light makes this area much brighter than daytime and starkly contrasts the looming pile, its shadows filled with secrets. The smoke rising from Ground Zero seems to intensify as the evening marches on.
Though we were asked to provide coverage from the 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift, our replacements do not arrive until 10 p.m. We do not mind. Now we need to report back to the Chelsea Pier and return emergency equipment assigned to us. New York City at night is vastly different from the daytime. Fortunately, Bloomsbury Squad is relieved by us and their driver is familiar with Manhattan. Again, we serpentine through the city with lights down one-way streets the wrong way, taking turns with hummers over custody of the streets. Now we, too, are shouting words of encouragement to the dusty emergency workers we ride past.
As we approach the Chelsea Pier another surprise greets us. There are crowds along the roadways cheering, clapping, holding up signs and shouting their grateful thanks to us. Some people stand in the road offering water and snacks as we go by like the dedicated participants in a marathon that seem to go on and on. All over the city, the police and residents have displayed the highest level of kindness and appreciation toward the volunteers and the rescue workers. It is definitely a side of New York that many did not know existed until now when it needed to be pressed into service.
At the Chelsea Pier Staging area, we turn in our allocated equipment, sign ourselves out. We are dismissed, done with our special assignment for the day. Our crew is ready to return to our reality with a new sense of appreciation for where we are and what we have experienced standing by near Ground Zero.
I have saved the best for last. When we first arrived at Battery Park, I walked away from the center and toward the harbor. There standing majestically before me was our favorite lady the Statue of Liberty. Erect and proud! In the morning light, the flame was bolding gleaming. Several times during the day I needed to see this symbol of America. Before we left in the night, I walked back to see her one more time. She was silhouetted against the darkening sky as strong as before. She had company. In the harbor was a United States Coast Guard cutter, ready to be of service if needed. And, she had another friend, a plane just had taken off from Newark Airport and was heading west. It looked as if she just had sent it on its way.
God bless America!

