SEPT. 11, 2001: TERROR BECAME REALITY

BY TONEY ATKINS



The approach of the tenth anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001, finds me fighting a disturbing depression and unpleasant feelings of dread that the United States could be facing yet another devastating attack by our enemies.



Equally disturbing is the fact that some ultra-fanatic right-wingers in this country, including a few people who currently hold political power, have publicly asserted that another terrorist attack on America is needed to "prove" that the nation's first Black president, Barrack Obama, and the Democratic Party are not capable of protecting the country.



That, of course, outrageously pushes to an extreme limit the desire of many to see the Obama administration fail. Can anyone who remembers that day so vividly be so cold as to want, for political reasons, to experience the horrors of the potential destruction and deaths of possibly thousands of American citizens?



In their wildest imaginings, few ordinary citizens awoke that bright Tuesday morning in 2001 expecting the day to evolve into horror and bloody death on their own soil. Terrorist attacks occurred in other countries, but who would dare bring such villainous acts to the invincible powerhouse of the U.S.? It was unthinkable.



I had tuned the television to ABC's "Good Morning America" before sleepily approaching the shower to prepare for what I expected to be an ordinary day at the Daytona Times newspaper in Daytona Beach, FL. Running a little bit late, as usual, I was toweling myself dry when I noticed the bewildered expressions on the faces of the host and hostess of the news program. They were talking about the possibility that a small plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. A camera showed the smoke pouring from the upper section of the huge building. It initially appeared to be a horrible accident. As a graphic indicating "Breaking News" appeared on the screen, Peter Jennings began his report about what was known at that point.



As I drove down Orange Avenue, listening to a morning talk show broadcasting from New York, the host and one of his co-hosts were excited and not speaking in normal tones. Someone shouted that another plane had crashed into the second tower. It was becoming clear that these were passenger jetliners and that these occurrences were not accidental. A chill went up and down my journalistic spine and I broke the speed limit in getting to the newspaper.



At that time, the Internet was available only to the editor in charge, and I was only a reporter. When the editor went upstairs to consult with Managing Editor Charles W. Cherry Sr., I rushed to his computer, where his assistant was working, and reached over his shoulder to sign on to America Online's news page. What I saw stunned me and brought forth epithets that shocked the assistant, who was not completely aware of the tragedy-in-progress, into gales of laughter which literally had him rolling on the floor. The Pentagon had just been struck by a third plane. The publishable text of my comment to the young man was, "We're at war!"



WPUL-AM radio, the city's Black station, would ordinarily be broadcasting gospel music delivered by satellite, but the music had been replaced by the continually breaking news, including that of the crash of a fourth passenger jet into a Pennsylvania field. It was now known that the planes had been hijacked in some devious plan to wreak havoc, and that plan was succeeding. The whereabouts of President George W. Bush, who had assumed office earlier that year and who was visiting an elementary school in Florida at the time, was not known until later in the morning when he addressed a terrified nation. Adding to the ongoing living nightmare, the World Trade Center buildings dramatically collapsed into rubble as residents raced away.



I was extremely frustrated because our office had no TV and I had no consistent access to the Internet. Telephone systems were overwhelmed, so I could not contact my father, a World War II veteran who lived in northwest Georgia. He suffered from health problems, and I was concerned as to how he might be reacting to the event.



The assistant editor, who was in charge of laying out the pages of the paper, particularly the all-important front page, approached me and asked how I thought we should handle the developing crisis, pointing out that we were a Black-oriented newspaper that primarily covered issues affecting only the Black community. My reply might have sounded inconsiderate, but I practically shouted that Black people most likely were among the dead and dying and that what was happening was historic, impacting everyone. I urged a front page, lead story but, respecting his position, left it up to him. (He soon organized an excellent front page for our weekly newspaper that rivaled those of area dailies.)



Getting out of the office, I found that traffic was lighter than usual, but I was determined to get local reaction in person instead of in phone calls. A young Black female employee in the photo department of what was then Eckerd Drugs on Ridgewood Avenue was fighting back tears. She told me that she was concerned about her future mother-in-law who worked in the vicinity of what was to become known as Ground Zero of the New York attacks. Her fiancee had not been able to reach his mother, and they feared the worst. The young woman said her mind could not comprehend what was going on. (Several days later, she gave me the good news that her mother-in-law-to-be was safe.)



Outside, a man who was listening to a news broadcast on his car radio was equally concerned, his face lined with stunned disbelief. He was concerned about his father, who didn't live in New York City but who live in New York state and occasionally went into the metropolis. He couldn't get through to his dad, and he was worried.



Reactions were similar at several other locations as I made my way back to the newspaper. At an ATM, an elderly Black man said his bank had closed and he wanted to withdraw his money, because he was afraid of what might happen next.



All commercial air travel was grounded, not to be resumed for several days. Eerie feelings that I was experiencing were compounded by the occasional sounds of military jets which seemed to scream very low over our building throughout the day. The unknown, the unexpected had come to our land, and many of us knew that our lives were changed forever.



During my lunch break, I got my first look at televised live pictures of the smoke and debris billowing from a surrealistic view of the skyline of New York City. My phone call to Georgia finally went through, and my dad was okay. He had gone to the home of a friend to watch the scenes of devastation unfold on CNN.



Officials determined that the hijackings were instigated by Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan. In October, we were officially at war in that country -- a war that continues in 2011. Despite the eventual discovery and killing of bin Laden in Pakistan on May 1, 2011, under the command of President Obama, no end is in sight for the allies' war against al Quaeda and the stabilization of Afghanistan. (Not long after 9/11, then-President Bush would later erroneously tie Iraq to the attacks on America and initiated a war in that country. That ill-advised war resulted in the deaths of or injuries to thousands of brave military personnel.))



Amid the smouldering ruins of the World Trade Center and the damaged sections of the Pentagon were the casualties -- heroic firemen and police officers, ordinary citizens who had not known they were going to work in the buildings for the last time, the bodies of those people who had jumped from many floors up rather than die in flames or from suffocation before the structures collapsed. Final death statistics, including the passengers who had overcome other hijackers over Pennsylvania, approached 3,000.



The nation mourned. There were memorial services around the U.S., including one in Daytona Beach. Many days would follow before a degree of normalcy would return to our country. For some, feelings of real security ended on that terrible September day.



Although pushed by many into the deeper recesses of their minds so as not to let fear overcome their lives, most Americans still remember what is generally referred to as 9/11. Some have told me that they don't like to bring those horrible memories back to the surface, although that's difficult to avoid as the anniversary nears and fleeting, even fearful thoughts rush through: Will it happen again?



Those politicians and regular citizens who have remarked that another 9/11 is needed to "bring back our country" (bring it back to what?) need to see the images captured by the cameras and included in documentaries on the History and National Geographic television channels and on DVD to remind them of the horrors of that single day. They need to be shamed and chastised by the Americans who respect life and care about the future of our country. These radical unpatriotic and destructive citizens who seem to prefer hate and war over peace should be questioned, along with their questionable sanity.



We must never forget the uncertainty of tomorrow and the fragility of life. All could end as early as today.



Meanwhile, each of us can work to restore peace within our own country's borders in order to be stronger against any evil that might threaten us, working toward a better world that could be free or hatred, fear and war.