JOINT BASE LANGLEY-EUSTIS, Va. –
Most people can still vividly remember where they were 10 years ago on Sept. 11, 2001. The twin towers of the World Trade Center came crashing down, the Pentagon was struck and courageous citizens stood up to foil the plans of terrorists on a plane that went down in Pennsylvania. Here at Joint Base Langley-Eustis, operations went into overdrive; from security forces locking down the base to F-16s scrambling to start combat air patrols. The following are a few first-hand recollections from JBLE personnel who were stationed overseas on that fateful day.
MSgt Walter T. Moore III, 192d Fighter Wing
I am currently the 192d FW Armament Systems supervisor here at Langley Air Force Base on the F-22 Raptor, but on Sept. 11, 2001 I was counting stock in a walk in freezer as the general manager of an Einstein Bagels. There had been chatter about a small aircraft flying into the Empire State Building from one of the customers around 9 a.m. It was met with a combination of indifference and slight curiosity by my employees working the front counter. I headed into the cooler, lit only by a small bulb and cooled by two very loud compressor fans. The world changed outside in the next five minutes as time stood still for me in the cold, dark room.
Somewhere between counting frozen bagels and muffins, my assistant manager walked in behind me holding the phone looking emotionally shaken and in the know of something I was obviously unaware of. "Someone is on the phone for you," she said. It was my chief, who in his best, calmed voice, asked a simple question, "How soon can you get here?"
I had no idea of what was going on, but I distinctly remember the sensation as I stepped out of the walk in freezer and up to the front of the restaurant, the eerie sensation that something was different in the world. I could see it on the faces of my employees, my customers and in the quiet tension on the phone awaiting my response, very busy chatter coming from the background around him.
"Real World?" I asked.......
Then came a flurry of instruction and details, "Do you have Guard Plates?"
"Yes..."
"Then turn your blinkers on, do not endanger yourself or others, but the state and local police will consider your vehicle an emergency vehicle. You need to get home, grab whatever you can, make whatever arrangements are needed and get to base as soon as possible."
The next hour was a blur. Little did I know that the pinnacle of my life and career up to that point as a civilian was about to fade to a memory, and my training as a Guardsmen was about to put to the test in defense of my country.
With a quick phone call to my regional manager and bark of commands to my staff, I raced to my car. The radio at that point was a mix of news and speculation, varying wildly between pending air attacks on the Federal Bank in Richmond, nuclear power plants and other countries. Some stations kept playing music, oblivious to what was happening around them. I choose to turn it off and concentrate on driving the 15 minutes back to my apartment. A flurry of thoughts running through my head: duffle Bag, uniforms, mail-box key, check book, notes to neighbors........ Would I be on an airplane in two hours? Would I still be here in two hours?
It was now 9:30 a.m. and I was standing in my closet frantically filling my duffel bag. It was the beginning of the rest of my life, of every American's life. That day I would load live missiles, launch aircraft and race to Langley for Alert Status. I don't think we slept the first 24 hours.
The following year saw me spending 24-hour shifts on alert status, launching F-16's loaded with live munitions to protect the President and local infrastructure. The year after that, I accepted an appointment with Transportation Safety Authority and my federal employment began. Three years later and a transfer to the Virginia Air National Guard as a full time technician with the F-22 program puts me where I am today.
My life has changed, as have all of our lives changed since that day. If it would have been different, if we had not been struck that day, our lives have stayed the same. It's not just where you were on Sept. 11, 2001, but where are you now because of Sept. 11, 2001.
Never Forget
Master Sgt. Jerry Prickett, 27th Intelligence Squadron
I was stationed at Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, Japan. I lived at a Marine Corps Base five miles from the air base. The island had just started recovering from a typhoon, which had all bases locked down for about three days.
With the time difference of 14 hours, we received the call in the middle of night. My supervisor called and said, "We're in Threatcon Delta, I'll call you back," and the line went dead.
My wife turned on the TV, and the Armed Forces Network was broadcasting coverage from the U.S. Minutes later, U.S. Marines in humvees with .50 caliber weapons were driving through base housing, issuing instructions using loudspeakers: "Do not leave your residence. You will be instructed what to do later."
When mission essential personnel were directed to report the next day, it took four hours to drive five miles and get on the base. This was a particularly difficult situation for Kadena. Recovering from a major typhoon meant that all aircraft were relocated to bases across Pacific Air Forces. We couldn't project airpower in the traditional sense.
Soon after, the Pacific Command area of responsibility began Operation Enduring Freedom-Phillipines.
Staff Sgt. Tamita Kea, Air Combat Command
I was stationed at Malmstrom Air Force Base, Mont., at the time. The base was running exercises, and I had just finished a 12-hour shift. I went to my boyfriend's room to hang out with him before he went to work. I had given my supervisor my number to his room, since I was there a lot. Well, my supervisor called me and said, "Come back to work ASAP, and look at the news."
I went to the day room and looked at the news channel. Footage depicted the New York city skyline, but it looked odd -- something was missing. When they replayed footage of the planes crashing into the towers and the buildings collapsing, my jaw dropped, chills ran down my spine, and I ran back to get my boyfriend to show him. He was as shocked as I was. I had some security forces friends that were in the missile field at the time. They stayed out there for nearly two weeks, as opposed to the normal five day rotation, along with services and missile personnel. We were in FPCON Delta for a little more than a week, and were on high alert.
Needless to say, I've never seen things so tense.
Steve Helveston, Air Operations Squadron
As a personal pilot assigned to serve the transportation needs of the U.S. CENTCOM commander, we had just landed at Souda Bay on the Greek island of Crete after an overnight flight. We were making a stop before proceeding to Pakistan the next day. A few hours after bedding the aircraft down and arriving with Army Gen. Tommy Franks at our hotel, all hell was breaking loose in the United States. Within a couple hours, my crew received word that General Franks had been ordered by the President to return to the U.S.
I immediately made phone calls to the refueling wing at RAF Mildenhall to urge them to put a tanker on Bravo alert. We knew we would need a tanker to get back to the U.S. non-stop the next day. Although the person on the other end of the phone balked at my request, I finally was able to convince him to put a tanker on alert for our return. A few hours later, RAF Mildenhall received the official order to do what I'd asked.
One of our three pilots stayed up all night piecing together the mission to get home. I was the aircraft commander the next morning as we prepared for takeoff. Literally seconds away from departure, I was summoned to the rear to talk to the TACC senior controller, a colonel in the U.S. I got on the air phone and was informed that the U.S. was implementing new Safe Passage procedures and they didn't know what they were going to be. We could be in danger of getting shot down if we flew into U.S. airspace. Knowing we had some very sophisticated communication capability onboard the aircraft, I eventually reasoned with the colonel to allow us to takeoff. I told him we had about ten hours to figure out how to enter U.S. airspace, and if that didn't work, we would land in Canada. He agreed and we departed for the U.S.
There we were, at 30,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean en route to the U.S.-- the only plane to do so on Sept. 12, 2001. We completely avoided New York and Washington D.C., and safely landed at MacDill Air Force Base, Fla. It was a day I will always remember, one of the most memorable and challenging events in my aviation career.
Technical Sgt. Larry Durant II, Air Force Global Logistics Center
I was stationed at Incirlik Air Base, Turkey. I remember coming into work that day; it seemed ordinary. I saw the first plane hit the towers. I wondered if this was a movie or a practical joke. Nothing about what I saw seemed real. As the moments started to become more and more true, I realized that I was watching history creep by. These moments would be solidified inside my mind for the rest of my life.
I saw people falling from the buildings and plumes of smoke pouring from the backs of the people hanging of the ledges trying to escape. My mind raced many times over counting whether or not my family or close friends were in proximity of what we came to know as Ground Zero. I shed tears in horror and hope that the first plane was the end. Then to my amazement another hit. It all culminated when the actual towers fell, and so did I, horrified at what I just witnessed. All I could do was pray and so I did...
Michael F. Munitz, Air Combat Command
I was stationed at Aviano Air Base, Italy, from April 2001 to April 2006. My cousin was visiting from the U.S. during the first two weeks in September. He had not been on vacation since 1975, which ironically was a trip to Italy when he was 25 years old. We are of mostly Italian origin. So suffice it to say he was really excited about the visit, to the point where he spent six months practicing Italian with Rosetta Stone. He was supposed to stay for two weeks.
A little background; my cousin lives in northern New Jersey, and owns and operates a small executive taxi service. Many of his customers in 2001 were executives who worked in the many offices right around ground zero. In fact, in his spare time, he would often take his bicycle to the area and ride around, eat at different restaurants etc.. So he had a very intimate relationship with the area, both personally and professionally.
I had gotten to Aviano AB in April 2001, and lived in a tiny village called Dardago at the base of the mountains. At the time, I worked in the Personnel Systems Management Office, which manages the Military Personnel Data System. We went "live" with MilPDS on July 1, 2001. The new data system had some initial issues, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to host my cousin. By early September, things at work were calming down a little. So I was still able to take a couple of weeks leave and my cousin came to visit.
The first week was idyllic. I had a little, red Honda Del Sol, and the weather around Aviano in September is amazing. We would tool around the Italian countryside with the top down; seeing the sights, eating amazing food and catching up on old times. It was such a relaxing visit, but especially for my cousin. He had been working so many extra hours for years to pay for his son's college tuition, that the trip to Italy was just what the doctor ordered for him. He was visibly different in his demeanor after just a week. He would walk down to the town square in the morning, get his espresso, try out his shaky Italian with the locals at the café, and then bring back the newspaper and relax in the sun on the balcony.
The peace and tranquility we were experiencing could not have differed more than what was about to befall us. We got back to my apartment on Sept. 11 at about 2 p.m. Aviano time, which was about 8 a.m. on the East Coast. I noticed my cousin had started to fall asleep on the couch in the living room. I went up to my room to read, and soon I had drifted off into a deep, relaxing midday sleep as well.
A short while later, a local-national acquaintance of mine called me and woke me up. She was babbling on in broken English about what is going on in the USA and that "they" had bombed the World Trade Center. In the fog of waking up I said that happened in the 80's, and asked her why the heck she was calling me about it now. She said something to the effect that she was talking about RIGHT NOW, and I need to turn on the TV -- RIGHT NOW. I woke up my cousin and we went downstairs to my American apartment neighbor to see what she was talking about. My neighbors were so transfixed by the sight of the attacks on the TV that they didn't even think to come upstairs to get me.
Well, let me tell you in a nutshell that my cousin ABSOLUTELY...LOST...HIS...MIND. He became extremely agitated and increasingly distraught. There were so many questions running around everyone's heads, but he felt especially upset because ground zero was such a big part of his life. He did not know if, or how many of his clients were killed. He did not know if he was going to go back to a police state in the US. He was terrified at the thought of getting on the plane. He did not know if more attacks were coming. He figured his livelihood was over and so on. He was literally coming unglued.
I was in a tough spot. I did not know if I was going to deploy or at the very least get called back to work right away, and I had a totally, freaked-out relative staying with me. Imagine finding out someone is bi-polar, manic depressive, paranoid and not terribly stable emotionally, all at the same time during one of the nation's worst calamities. And you are solely responsible for their well being. AND oh-by-the-way...you're in a different continent to boot.
I was kind of in a holding pattern, still on leave, but taking it day by day. After a couple of days I went to the base to talk to my supervisor to ask for an extra week of leave in hopes I could calm my cousin down enough to get him on a plane back to the states. To his credit, he agreed and I headed back to my apartment.
The small towns in Europe have many blind spots in their streets, and just before I got to my driveway, I just missed getting into a head on collision. I started talking about the near miss as my cousin was opening the door to my apartment when I stopped in mid sentence. He was swaying back and forth, with his eyes rolling all around. He was going on about how everything is alright, he was meant to be here, he made it through or whatever. I was like, "What are you talking about, dude?" And it was at that moment I started to smell...the GAS.
I ran into the kitchen and saw a pillow next to the stove, and the gas line that he had cut with a steak knife down to one thread. He tried to take the "big nap" right next to the hose. Many older houses in Italy have doors for the kitchen. So after closing the door and the window, the gas was overpowering. I think what saved him was the fact that the ceiling was very high, there was a crack at the bottom of the door which enabled some gas to escape, and I wasn't gone very long.
I finally got him calmed down again, and I just kept talking to him; reassuring him and telling him everything would be ok. He was safe in my apartment and he needed to start doing things to get himself together. I had him call around and when he realized our relatives in New Jersey were all ok, he relaxed a little. Obviously, I was not letting him out of my sight until I got him on the plane.
A few more days went by, and he seemed to be doing a lot better. He thanked me for being so calm and helpful. He had some pain medication for an injury to his hand, and that seemed to help his nerves too. Well, I wasn't quite out of the weeds yet. I don't remember how many days went by, but one night at about 3 a.m., I was awakened by a huge, crashing sound.
I nearly fell out of bed, and ran down the hall to see what it was. Apparently, my cousin was still really upset. Because this time he had tried to drop an electrical converter into the bathtub with him, but it just so happened that the cord was just short enough that as he stretched it over the edge of the tub, it unplugged itself from the outlet when he dropped it. If you've never seen one, a converter converts 220 to 110. They are heavy, this one weighing about 30 pounds, and pretty much all metal, so when it hit the tub, it made a helluva noise.
At that point, I was on total cousin-watch and seriously considering trying to get some emergency, professional help at the base. I figured I'd wait one or two more days to see how it went. I slept on the loveseat while he slept on the couch. Any time he moved, I was right there.
Over the next week, he finally, truly came to his senses once he realized things were sort of stabilizing in the States, and was very apologetic about what he had put me through. He thanked me profusely for being such a calming influence.
In retrospect, he realized that being with me in Italy was probably the greatest blessing for him. He would have been far worse emotionally if he had been there. Not to mention the fact that he had at least a 50-50 chance of being very close to ground zero when the attacks occurred. The last remaining hurdle was getting him on the plane the day of his departure.
He started getting nervous, but I took him by the elbow and walked him up to the ticket counter like a Boy Scout assisting an elderly woman slowly across a street. Once he saw that everyone around him was acting normally and life was going on, he relaxed enough (he MAY have finished his pain medication earlier than expected) to check in and get on the plane, and has been fine ever since.
I know you probably won't run this, but what a story, huh?