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

by Garrett M. Graff

We had 90 minutes to set up for the next pass across the United States. We set up every camera we could. I said, “Guys, we’re gonna take pictures of everything we can see as we come across the U.S.” An hour and a half later, we crossed Chicago. I was looking all around for any evidence of further attacks. I could see all the way to Houston. In a few minutes, we crossed Washington, D.C., directly over the Pentagon. I could look straight down and see the gash on the side of it. I could see the lights of the rescue vehicles, the smoke of the fires.

launch a new toy, modeled on a New York firefighter, and had chosen the day carefully. The date, after all, seemed perfect for firefighters: 9-1-1.

Every once in a while I saw somebody go up—come up. They would mumble, “Oh, I left such-and-such on my desk.” I’m always wondering in retrospect: Did they ever come back down?

Try telling someone who is fleeing a crumbling building that they don’t need a life vest—what, like we’re having a good-luck day?