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

by Garrett M. Graff

7:59 a.m.—American Airlines Flight 11 departs from Logan International Airport in Boston, bound for Los Angeles International Airport.

8:14 a.m.—Flight 11 is hijacked.

8:46 a.m.—Flight 11 crashes into the north face of the North Tower (1 WTC) of the World Trade Center.

9:42 a.m.—The FAA issues order grounding all flights already in the air.

9:59 a.m.—The South Tower collapses.

10:03 a.m.—Flight 93 crashes outside Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

12:16 p.m.—Final airliner over the continental United States lands.

8:30 p.m.—President Bush addresses the nation from the Oval Office.

Nearly every American above a certain age remembers precisely where they were on September 11, 2001.

The 9/11 victims represented not merely Americans but citizens of more than 90 nations. The toll obviously stretched beyond the dead alone; more than 3,000 children lost a parent on 9/11, including some 100 children who were born in the subsequent months and would never meet their fathers.

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.”

Indeed, to understand all that came after, we must first understand what it was like to live through the drama and tragedy that began under the crisp, clear blue skies of Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

One of the most startling effects was that within about two orbits, all the contrails normally crisscrossing the United States had disappeared because they had grounded all the airplanes and there was nobody else flying in U.S. airspace except for one airplane that was leaving a contrail from the central U.S. toward Washington. That was Air Force One heading back to D.C. with President Bush.

The storm of September 10th that swept across the Northeast, marking the passage of a strong cold front, preceded a high-pressure system of dry Canadian air that gave rise to a unique—and memorable—meteorological phenomenon known as “severe clear,” cloudless skies that made an enduring impression on all who would witness what transpired in the hours ahead.

Only a single stairway in the South Tower, Stairwell A, survived the crash. Fewer than 20 people would escape from the impact zone or above.

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.

He said, “Another plane hit the Towers.” I knew instantly it was terrorism. We started to increase security around the plane—made it a tighter bubble.

Andy Card: I was pleased with how the president reacted—he didn’t do anything to create fear.

Karl Rove: When the president walked back into the staff hold, he said, “We’re at war—give me the FBI director and the vice president.”

Soon after we got on board, I see the president pop out of the cabin. He’s heading down the aisle. He says, “OK, boys, this is what they pay us for.”

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.”

Danielle O’Brien: The Washington National Airport controllers came over our speakers and said, “Dulles, hold all of our inbound traffic. The Pentagon’s been hit.”

“Tom, are you okay?” He said, “No, I’m not. I’m on an airplane that’s been hijacked. It’s United Flight 93.” He told me what was going on. “They’ve already knifed a guy. I think one of them has a gun.” I started asking questions, and he said, “Deena, just listen.” He went over the information again and said, “Please call the authorities,” and hung up. I felt a jolt of terror run through my whole body. It was as if I’d been struck by lightning.

Tom came back on the phone and said, “I’m putting a plan together. We’re going to take back the airplane.” I asked, “Who’s helping you?” He said, “Different people, several people. There’s a group of us. Don’t worry. We’re going to do something.” Then he said, “I’m going to call you back,” and he hung up.

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.

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.

the passengers and crew aboard Flight 93 tried to wrest control of the plane from the hijackers, their decisions in the air would alter the lives of those who lived in the small towns in Somerset County, near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, who suddenly found themselves in the midst of the nation’s still-unfolding tragedy. The crash sowed even further confusion among the military and air traffic controllers who were mustering the government to respond to an attack they still didn’t understand.

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.

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.

The fires at Ground Zero would burn for another 99 days, until they were finally extinguished for good on December 19.