Day 110: Seven Years Ago

Seven years ago today, I walked into the subway stop at the Pentagon on my way to school. It was a normal day and this was part of my normal routine--leave home, catch a ride to the Pentagon, and then ride the subway into school. Little did I realize, that a few hours later, I would return to the Pentagon. However, this time the journey was not part of a normal trip home. I watched as flames engulfed the front portion of the building where terrorists had just hijacked and crashed a commercial airplane. The date was September, 11, 2001. A day I, nor few who witnessed the tragedy, will soon forget.


I was in my second year of medical school at George Washington. Sue had just survived nine months of morning sickness and our beautiful little Abbie was almost 5 months old. I had recently joined the Navy. Life was busy but we were happy living in our little 2 bedroom apartment in Lorton, Virginia.

I had an 8 AM lecture on that day. I don’t remember the topic of that lecture but I do remember the break we had after the speaker was concluded. I called Sue to say hi and was shocked to hear her in tears. She told me of planes crashing into buildings in New York and something about the Pentagon. I didn’t know what she was talking about but before I could ask questions I started noticing some commotion in the hallway. I told her I would call her back in a few minutes, not realizing it would be several hours before I would hear her voice again. I walked into the library where the news was playing and watched in horror with my fellow students as scenes of the planes crashing in New York were replayed.

Within a few minutes, an announcement was made that the school was to be evacuated. We were told to leave immediately. My friend Travis and I grabbed our bags and left. Once outside, we realized that not only was our school being evacuated but the entire city. It was a mass exodus on foot as thousands of people tried to find a way home. The subway was closed. No one knew exactly what was happening but there was talk of “more planes”, car bombs, and speculation about who was behind the attack.

Our only way home was to walk by way of the Pentagon. We jumped the fence into Arlington Cemetery which is right in front of the Pentagon and watched as smoke and flames rose from the crash site. Rescue workers were frantically working. Helicopters were flying overhead. At some point, someone yelled that another plane was coming and the small group I was with ran through the cemetery away from the Pentagon. Once we realized that no plane was on its way, we walked back to the fence and just watched. It was a surreal experience as we watched, through the smoke and chaos, history being written right in front of our eyes. We saw a rescue worker and explained that we were medical students and that we could help. He told us to come on over. We jumped over the fence, not sure what we would do on the other side, but confident that a 2nd year medical student could be helpful. Our rescue efforts didn’t last long as we were quickly escorted off Pentagon property being told that our help wasn’t needed.

I called Sue from a gas station nearby, told her I was alright, and then continued on the walk home. Shortly thereafter, by some twist of fate, my Elders quorum president drove by as we were walking and picked us up--saving us the final 10 miles of walking that lay between us and home. Once at home, Sue and I hugged, we cried, and I kissed my sweet little baby girl. It had never felt so good to be back home with those I loved the most.

Seven years later, the effects of that day are still shaping my life and that of my family. When those planes crashed, it started a series of events that ultimately led to me leaving my family and loved ones and coming to Afghanistan. I think of those who lost so much that day. I think of those who never went home. Somehow my sacrifice seems small compared to what they gave. I pray that my work here, as small as it may be, will honor those whose lives were lost on that September day.