I have primarily read two books during 30 or so hours of flying over the past couple of days, Ordinary People; Extraordinary Heroes, chronicling stories of heroism on 9/11, and The Fellowship of the Ring.
It is so easy to forget the violence and horror of September 11th.
At unprovoked attack was launched against our country, with commercial planes filled with civilians used as missiles to attack two of our most storied skyscrapers, also filled with civilians.
What must it have felt like to be above the collision points in the Twin Towers, knowing that your way to safety was effectively blocked? Or to be an emergency coordinator who conceded that there was no hope of rescuing the trapped people on those floors?
What must it have been like to be below the towers when the second plane struck above and know that this was no accident? What would it have felt like to be in the north tower when the south tower crumbled to the crown, presaging the demise of the north tower as well?
All of these thoughts and feelings were going through the minds of the civilians fleeing down the stairwells and the rescue workers climbing toward ever-greater danger.
Yet, on the rescue workers pressed. Some of them may not have expected to die, though many likely knew it with greater certainly after the first tower collapsed, but many of them realized pretty quickly that this would likely be their last day on earth.
Rick Rescorla was the top platoon leader serving under Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore in the battle of Ia Drang, and the face on the cover of Moore's eventual book, We Were Soldiers Once, and Young. He was an incredibly decorated war hero from Vietnam, and had largely anticipated the 9/11 attacks, which is why most of the employees of the firm he provided security for were able to escape the south tower before it was hit by the second plane.
In his final phone call to his wife, he told her that he would not stop saving people from the towers until they were all out. He concluded by telling her, "You made my life."
For many a rescue worker, realizing that they were likely proceeding to their deaths, this knowledge prompted handshakes and hugs before walking up the stairs--a final act of love and gallantry toward their brothers-in-service.
On 9/11, one coordinated terrorist attack was perpetrated on the the United States of America. Four planes were turned into weapons of terror. Three found their target. All of these matters are quantifiable.
What cannot be quantified is the countless acts of heroism on 9/11, where thousands of rescue workers and civilians, not knowing the nature of their enemy and without weapons, began to fight back and guard lives at the cost of their own.
The passengers of Flight 93 were soldiers, and they won the battle for either the U.S. Capitol or White House. With pick axes and fire extinguishers, thousands of firefighters and police officers stormed the world's biggest deathtraps, winning the battle for thousands of lives.
Each of these first-response soldiers left behind spouses, parents, siblings, and children. Because of them, many thousands more went home to their families.
On 9/11, our freedom came under attack. But it was not freedom, but moral conviction, that allowed the first wave of heroes to defend our freedom at the cost of their own lives. Let us forever pay them homage, not in their defense of freedom, but in their moral courage that saw freedom and the dignity of human life as worth their sacrifice.
