Hell's Gate Part 2 (Mik Byrnes)

9/22 Saturday Three funerals and one memorial service mark my calendar with what will seen to be an endless repeat of the same day over and over and over again. I am to find that the tears will not flow and as I watch family members give in to the emotion I feel as if I have lost a part of me. I have shut off the ability to feel loss and move through the next few weeks like a robot without the programming required to feel emotions. 9/23 Sunday Two memorials held today. I did not report to the site today but instead went to the park. As I walked I took in the green, even in its fade to autumn it was a stark contrast to the colors at Liberty and Church. 9/24 Two more… Mayor Giuliani had acknowledged the chances of finding any survivors have nearly evaporated. But our stated mission continued to be seeking out survivors. We needed to believe. If God brings you to it - He will bring you through it. 9/30 And yet another memorial service held. The litany continues over the next week: 10/10 Agnello, father and son, memorial service held 10/12 Funeral service for Walter Weaver. Memorials for Claude Richards and Brian McDonnel. 10/13 I was unable to sleep again tonight and after tossing and turning for several hours, got dressed and went out for a walk and found myself back at the site where lights continued to burn and illuminate a vision of hell. 10/19 Memorial service for Stephen Driscoll. 10/22 Angelini Jr, memorial service held. Memorial for John Coughlin. 10/24 Memorial for Thomas Langone, NYPD, his brother a fireman was also lost. 10/27 James Leahy Memorial 10/29 Atlas, memorial service 10/31 NY Waterway announces that it will name two new ferries in New York Harbor for police officer Moira Smith and Fire Department chaplain Mychal F Judge. 11/07 Memorial for Robert Fazio ( Laid to Rest January 9, 2002) 11/8 Anaya Jr, memorial held.(Laid to Rest May 10, 2002) 11/9 Today I decided that I was not going to attend anymore services. Instead I went home and sat out on the balcony and listened to music. Then over the sound of my music I heard the tolling of the bells…5….5….5 and I cried. 12/5 Twenty-three police officers who died in the attack on the World Trade Center are honored at annual medals day ceremony of New York Police Department. 2/13/02 Smith,Moira Ann, memorial service held. 3/21 Remains of Moira Smith, only policewoman killed at World Trade Center, are found, along with those of two court officers and two Port Authority police officers. ************ The following are entries made in journal that were not included in the above: When the first building came down, a sergeant was on the street outside. He's long and lanky, and when he dived under a car for shelter, an arriving emergency vehicle ran over his legs. Another sergeant dived under a fire truck, and later described the debris hitting the truck as sounding like someone dropping Volkswagens from 50 stories. As he lay there, he thought he heard gunshots, but dismissed the idea. But he was right. Other cops were shooting out windows of buildings so they could dive to safety inside. In the days and weeks that followed the attacks, I worked side by side with Steve Bucshemi, was handed water by Matthew Modine, drank beer with sports figures, and was the recipient of best wishes from Jason Alexander, Melissa Gilbert and Kevin Spacey. For one night, Midtown becomes "celebrity Ground Zero." A telethon was being held to benefit victims and their families. Billy Joel came down to the site afterwards and upon rounding a corner and taking in the panorama of the destruction, Joel got the "cannot speaks." We all knew the feeling, and ignored the fact that the star was openly weeping as he signed hard hats. “They should build four buildings, four towers exactly like the ones that went down. They should build them high, straight toward heaven, where they now got one helluva fire department.'' Jimmy Wind, FDNY The first time I had a chance to take a shower, early Wednesday morning before dawn, it occurred to me that not only was I washing away asbestos, dirt, chemicals and sweat, I was also washing away the ashes of incinerated human beings who once lived, loved and breathed just like me, and had families who love and miss them dearly. The equivalent of 15 showers at 4 A.M., and I could not wash away the smell of death. Is it any wonder that I prefer not to sleep? It is only by staying awake that I can keep the full detail of the memory from coming back. The pictures do not even begin to show the tragedy. They show the devastation, but they can not convey the horror. You lost all sense of time. The sense of urgency made everything seem as if it was happening in slow motion. The simplest gauge was sunset, about 4:30 p.m., when they hit the switches on the false lights and the pit took on the look of a lunar landscape. Imagine a war movie with carnage everywhere. Now, magnify that by 1000, and immerse yourself in it. Add the smells; jet fuel, dust, garbage, smoke, burning flesh and rotting bodies. Smell it so much you can taste it. Now hear it-hear the cranes and backhoes and engines and generators and people talking. Worse, add the sounds you THINK you hear-- the cries for help that you're sure came from over there-or is it over there? That way? Now see the haze in the air- a haze that makes your eyes sting, your throat choke, and your skin itch. See enormous chunks of steel, and concrete and glass. See cars upside down, inside out, 30 feet up on a pile of rubble. See clothing and shoes and vendor's carts and paper, paper everywhere. And see bodies. And parts of bodies. More than your other senses, though, you FEEL the pain and terror. You feel the grit in your eyes, despite your goggles. You feel the uneven world below your feet. You feel the ache in your bones from lifting stones, only to find nothing underneath. You feel the scrapes and bruises. You feel tired. You feel despair as you realize the people you have found are nowhere near the 10,000 missing. You feel nauseous, all the time. You feel incredible frustration, because in your mind, you could be directing the rescue efforts better, and getting more done. You feel the tears always in the back of your eyes, because your friends and so many others are dead. And then you feel anger. Rage. Fury. And deep sorrow. Guilt. Grief. Gratitude. And often, strangely, pride, for your country, your city, your co-workers, your friends. And you keep digging. People will eventually forget. After all, they were just doing their jobs. But we had better remember, not what we have seen, but what we have done. The way you remember the things you have done makes you who you.