The Only Plane in the Sky: An Oral History of 9/11

by Garrett M. Graff

As Rosemary Dillard, an American Airlines manager in D.C. whose husband, Eddie, was aboard one of the hijacked flights, said, “I still think that we all walk on eggshells. I don’t think that the young people who will be [reading] this will know the same freedom I knew growing up.”

Like everyone else in aviation that day, I thought, How in a clear-and-a-million day could someone hit the World Trade Center?

One of the firemen from Rescue 1 looked up and said, “We may not live through today.” We looked at him, and we looked at each other, and we said, “You’re right.” We took the time to shake each other’s hands and wish each other good luck and “Hope I’ll see you later,” which is especially poignant for me because we all had that acknowledgment that this might be our last day on earth and we went to work anyway.

Ultimately, 60 of the FDNY personnel killed on 9/11 were supposed to be off-duty that morning.

Sen. Tom Daschle (D-South Dakota), Senate Majority Leader: Sen. John Glenn, a dear friend, came by. I said, “Did you see that? A pilot flew into the World Trade Center.” He said, “Pilots don’t fly into buildings. That wasn’t a pilot.”

Bruno Dellinger: While I was walking down, they were going up to their deaths. And I was walking down to live. I will never forget this.

Lila Speciner, paralegal, Port Authority, North Tower, 88th floor: That will stay with me forever. They were going where we were running from.

Rick Rescorla, vice president of security, Morgan Stanley, in a phone call to his best friend, Dan Hill: The dumb sons of bitches told me not to evacuate. They said it’s just Building One. I told them I’m getting my people the fuck out of here.

Rick Rescorla, in a phone call to his wife, Susan: I don’t want you to cry. I have to evacuate my people now. If something happens to me, I want you to know that you made my life.

Ultimately, eleven Morgan Stanley staff—out of more than 2,700 in the South Tower—died on September 11th. Rescorla and two of his fellow security personnel were among those eleven.

Bruno Dellinger, principal, Quint Amasis North America, North Tower: It taught me something about human beings in distress. We were receiving from everywhere around us warning signs that this was a very, very dangerous situation. The moment we got those messages something inside—a defense mechanism—kicked in and stopped us from panicking.

Constance Labetti, accountant, Aon Corporation, South Tower, 99th floor: I would start to cry, and I’d start to tremble, and I heard my father’s voice. My father had been dead since 1985—and I heard his voice, clear as day, telling me that I was not going to die in this building. I straightened up and kept walking down the steps. A few minutes later, I heard my uncle—who kind of took over being my dad when my dad passed away. My uncle passed away in ’99, and he used to call me “Kiddo.” I heard my uncle’s voice in my left ear telling me, “Kiddo, just take one step at a time.” And I did.

Constance Labetti, accountant, Aon Corporation, South Tower, 99th floor: We got to the lobby and my coworker Jules and I had to rest for a moment because we were perspiring terribly. We had walked down 100 flights of steps. People were coming up to me, hugging me, and telling me, “Thank you, thank you,” and hugging me as they walked by me, and I said to Jules, “What? Why? What are they doing that for?” She said, “Connie, you don’t know what you were saying? You were saying, ‘We’re not going to die in this building. Just take it one step at a time.’ ” I was repeating what my father and my uncle were telling me, and I didn’t even know it.

Jeannine Ali, controller, Morgan Stanley, South Tower: They were directing people out, up through Borders and out toward Five World Trade. There was a fireman—he couldn’t have been more than 19 years old—with a hose on his shoulder. I remember looking at him and saying to him, “There is nothing you can do. Don’t go in there.” He said, “Lady, it’s my job. I have to do it.”

Det. David Brink, Emergency Service Unit, Truck 3, NYPD: There were a lot of bodies that were coming down. I saw daisy chains of four people holding hands, just leaping out of the buildings. I kept looking up, saying, “I want to help you guys. Hold on. Please hold on,” but I knew there was nothing I could do. I felt so helpless and powerless.

“Well, that’s not good at all. They’ve hit the Pentagon and they’re evacuating the White House.” It was a clear signal that this was no longer just about New York City. It was about the United States.

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John Cartier: You’ve got to look at the small gifts that we were given as a family. There’s a lot of families out there who didn’t get a last word or a last phone call. One of the other young ladies who lost her husband said it best. She said, “We were the lucky of the unlucky to have those last words.”

Tracy Donahoo: In the academy, they said, “If you think you’re gonna die, you’re going to die.” So I’m not gonna die here. This is not my day, I’m not dying here.

Frederick Terna, Holocaust survivor and Brooklyn resident: As ashes were falling, I was back in Auschwitz, with ashes coming down. In Auschwitz, I knew what the ashes were. Here, I assumed I knew what the ashes were—it was a building and human remains.

He saw me and said, “Wes. What can you tell me?” He had just retired from the FBI and he was on his second day as director of security for the World Trade Center. I said to John, “You’re no longer with the FBI. You don’t have a clearance. I can’t tell you what’s going on.” Even under times of stress and crisis, I can be a smart aleck. He said, “Wes, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to wring your scrawny little neck.” I told him what I knew, and he asked, “I’ve heard that the Pentagon has been hit?” I said, “We’re hearing that. Let me confirm,” and I called headquarters. They confirmed that the Pentagon had been hit. I relayed this back to John. He said, “Well, I need to go check on my people in the South Tower.” As he walked away I said to him, “Hey John. I owe you lunch. I missed your going-away lunch. When this is all over, let’s have lunch.” He said something that’s music to every agent’s ear. He said, “Wes, I’m on an expense account now—lunch will be on me.” John O’Neill was last seen in the stairwell of the 48th floor of the South Tower.

By the end of the day, they had collectively evacuated somewhere between 300,000 and 500,000 people from Manhattan—a maritime rescue larger than the World War II evacuation from Dunkirk.

Keturah Bostick: As we rolled by the Statue of Liberty, I wondered if the statue was going to blow up. Was all of Manhattan going up in flames, and, if so, was my family okay?

Bert Szostak, equity broker, 100 Wall Street: A blue New York Waterway ferryboat was there, about half full, and we got on, not caring where it would take us. There were three passengers aboard of Arab descent who had backpacks, and people—average people, not police officers—demanded to know what was in them. The guys looked scared and opened their backpacks. Inside were just books.

Al Kim, vice president of operations, TransCare Ambulance: I started to see clean shirts. That was a big deal. The cavalry had arrived, if you will. I remember seeing people I knew with no dust, no burns—they were normal. It was a welcoming sight.

They wanted to enlist to go and fight. I had a man who called and he said, “I am 80 years old. I still fit in my pilot uniform from World War II. I can still see. I can still hear. I have kept up with my training as a pilot. Tell whoever you can tell that I’m ready to report for duty.” That broke my heart, this 80-year-old man saying that. Chris Combs, special agent, FBI, at the Pentagon:

I also remember looking at my son and thinking how one day, he would know about these horrific events. I wish he didn’t have to know such evil exists.

Rosemary Dillard, Washington, D.C., base manager, American Airlines, and wife of Flight 77 passenger Eddie Dillard: I had to drive by the Pentagon. I wanted to stop, they wouldn’t let you. I got home, went in the house, and I smoked four cigarettes. I figured if I smoked in the house, it would bring my husband back because he didn’t smoke in the house. Then I had to call his brothers. I had to call my friends, the rest of his family, and my sister. My neighbors started coming over right away, because the flight attendants lived in the area. They came and brought me dinner. After that, it’s kind of a blur. Life changed.

Charles Christophe: I got to Maplewood—we usually parked our car by the train station, but I didn’t have a key—so I had to walk to the daycare. I took my daughter from the daycare, and I asked about my wife. Only my daughter was there. All other kids were taken by their parents, and one or two people from the staff. She was a baby—11 months old—and she didn’t understand. She recognized my face, and obviously was happy to see me. One of the employees of the daycare drove me to my home. I didn’t have a key. I had to break the window on the back door in the kitchen to enter. I immediately took care of my daughter—I had to feed her and change her and put her in the bath, because it was already six, seven o’clock. And then I was just sitting by the phone waiting for a call. Jillian Volk, preschool teacher, Lower Manhattan: We

William Jimeno: He said, “What’s your name?” and I said “Jimeno.” He goes, “Scott Strauss NYPD ESU Truck 1.” I said, “Jimeno, Bus Terminal. Port Authority Police,” and he said, “Listen, you got to hold on—you can’t give up now.”

Mary Dettloff, communications staff, Michigan legislature: My partner and I made an effort to patronize our favorite Middle Eastern restaurant a day after the attack because we feared people would retaliate against it. They had put a sign on their front door saying how sorry they were about the terrorist attack and that they didn’t support it. I remember thinking how sad that they felt the need to do that.

It’s a very, very eerie video. I don’t want to say it’s premonitory, but if you see it from that perspective it’s like, “Wow.” I actually named the video “September 10 2001 Uno nunca muere la víspera.” It is a saying in Spanish. It’s impossible for you to die on the eve of your death. You only die when you have to die. You’re never close to death. You die or you’re alive.

Ali Millard, whose stepfather, Port Authority executive director Neil Levin, was killed in the attack: The Friday after September 11, there was a candlelight vigil, and a bunch of friends of mine were sitting on the sidewalk. My friend Lani said, “Ali, don’t think of it as you losing a person; think of it as you gaining an angel.” I don’t really believe in angels or the afterlife, but the way I interpreted what Lani said was that people are only put on earth for a certain amount of time, and you’re lucky to get to know them for as long as you do.

On September 10, 2001, cameras placed on the 91st floor of the North Tower by artist-in-residence Monika Bravo captured an intense thunderstorm passing through New York City. Bravo later titled the video “Uno nunca muere la vispera”—“you cannot die on the eve of your death.”

Fate cursed as well as saved on 9/11. Jeremy Glick’s flight on September 10 from the Newark airport was delayed, so he switched onto United Airlines Flight 93 the following day; the flight attendant Betty Ong ended up working American Airlines Flight 11 because she wanted to go meet her sister to plan a vacation to Hawaii. Melissa Harrington Hughes, an international-trade consultant, was in New York, at the North Tower, for a one-day business trip; had the attacks come on any other day, at any other moment, she would have lived. Mike Warchola, a lieutenant with the fire department who ultimately made it all the way up to the 40th floor of the North Tower, was working some of his literal final hours in the FDNY on 9/11, having turned in his retirement papers after 24 years of service.

“It is a saying in Spanish: ‘It’s impossible for you to die on the eve of your death.’ You only die when you have to die. You’re never close to death. You die or you’re alive.”