GottiFBI's Agents Notes

Shortly before 0900 hours, one of my co-workers was watching CNN in our office. He said one of the Twin Towers was on fire. I took a look at it, sipped my coffee, and thought there must have been a reasonable explanation for it. Another co-worker thought he heard that a plane accidentally flew into the tower. Hoping that everyone was OK, I returned to my desk, not thinking too much about his comment. A few seconds later, he screamed. He had just witnessed a jet plane hit the other tower. We immediately knew what happened. A terrorist attack had occurred and we were somehow going to be involved in an extremely tough undertaking..

For the next twenty minutes, we discussed how this could have happened, not knowing that this attack had yet to be concluded. During our discussions, someone from the hallway came rushing into our office, telling us the Pentagon was being evacuated. I thought we were evacuating because of a possible threat to the building. So, I called my wife to let her know in case I didn't get to talk to her for a while. As I left the office with my belongings, I glanced at the TV and there was a picture of a building in Washington DC which had thick black smoke billowing from within. I didn't think anything of it until I got outside and looked behind me as I was walking out the north entrance away from the Pentagon. Our building had been attacked as well. Thankfully, my office was on the opposite side of the building, so we neither heard nor felt anything. I remember telling myself it would be a miracle if the death toll were less than 200 people.

Thousands of personnel continued to gaze in horror and amazement at what had just happened. Something had gone terribly wrong and we were all fixated on its origin and consequences. At that moment, we heard what sounded like a muffled cannon firing ordnance in the distance. We later discovered it was the Pentagon walls collapsing at the point of impact on the other side. A few minutes later, several people rushed over to where I was standing under a tree. They were carrying an individual on a stretcher. He didn't seem to be hurt badly, but he was cold and needed medical attention. I scoured the area looking for someone willing to give up his or her jacket so this wounded individual could receive some comfort. After obtaining what I could, we carried him over to a makeshift collection point for wounded personnel. At that time, there were about 20 people in various states of injury.

After bringing this injured person to the collection point, I heard someone yelling for some assistance. A medic had brought out another wounded person on a golf cart-type transport. This injury was more serious. He was covered in debris and groaning in pain. He was already been administered an IV, but it wasn't helping. This person needed immediate medical attention. I asked him his name and he replied in a very painful voice, "Brian." He was a LTC in the Army and he had been right in the thick of it. Again, I assisted in bringing him to the collection point, and then went about my business of trying to find my office co-workers. I wanted to let them know I was OK.

After trying in vain to contact them, I began walking around to see if I could help anywhere else. What I saw shocked me beyond belief. Brian was still on his stretcher totally exposed to the sun. I ran over to see what was going on and some people were still trying to get him some medical attention. Since he was in the sun, I began searching for someone with an umbrella to keep him somewhat comfortable. After finding one, I stayed with Brian until we could get him to safety. Coincidentally and fortuitously, approximately 30 Chaplains were at the Pentagon for a conference, and Brian had his own spiritual guide with him during his ordeal. All 30 Chaplains were engaged in activity they probably never thought they would experience. In some warped way, I felt a divine purpose for this conference occurring during this time period.

At that moment, we were ordered to move far away from the building because of information that there were still several planes unaccounted for and the Pentagon could be hit again. We obviously didn't want to be casualties ourselves, so we carried Brian about 200 yards further away. He was in shock and, although we had a medic with us, we desperately needed to get him to a hospital. With the assistance of another person, we flagged down a passing SUV and forcefully told him he was now an ambulance driver charged with taking Brian to the hospital. We cleared out the back of the vehicle, put Brian in, and he was off to receive the medical attention he needed.   Some days later, I talked to the medic who was with us that day and he told me Brian received third degree burns over 90% of his body. He had several skin grafts done, and they seemed to have been working. However, he was being medically retired and would no longer be able to serve his country in uniform. To me, Brian is a hero and I am proud to have assisted him that day.

After seeing off Brian in the makeshift ambulance , I had plans to go home because we were all told to go home. No one wanted to be a target of future air attacks, so many people were in the process of leaving. But I felt a sense of duty to stick around and help. After all, it wasn't just the Pentagon that was attacked, but everyone in that building was as well. This was my home for the time being, and I was going to help protect and secure it. At that moment, an individual walked up to where I was standing and said volunteers were needed for search and rescue operations on the other side. I leaped at the opportunity and eventually found a ride over there. Medical professionals were seeking personnel to be on three teams: Red, Yellow, and Green. The Red team was going to collect dead personnel. Yellow Team was going to help diagnose those persons who needed immediate medical attention. The Green team was for all others. We formed up under a highway overpass about 300 yards from the Pentagon. Eventually we moved forward to set up our respective units. I was on the Red team. Due to previous life experiences , I was not averse to dealing with corpses.

As we made our way closer, I saw for the first time the horrific display of terrorism as it lay burning in front of me. I was still 200 yards away, but I still felt the heat of the flames pumping out of the Pentagon. While trying to keep focused on the task at hand, I could not help but feel the anger, frustration, and sorrow for all that had happened. I didn't have too much time to dwell, because we were told to move back from the building, across the road. Another plane was possibly headed to the Pentagon. Thankfully, nothing happened.

While waiting for our next move, I finally had the chance to sit down and ponder what was going on. I knew the WTC was hit and I knew another plane crashed in Pennsylvania. I was thinking about the casualties inside the Pentagon when someone asked me if I heard what happened to the WTC. Aside from two planes hitting it, I didn't know of anything else. When he said they both collapsed, I sat in stunned silence. While staring at the wreckage in front of me, my mind drifted to New York City. If what he said was true, then the casualties at the Pentagon would pale in comparison to what was happening up there. My emotions starting churning again. You see, I was born and raised in New York, and grew up about 30 miles north of the City. A part of my heritage was ripped from me that day and I didn't know how to react to it. I was utterly speechless, but my mind was racing with thoughts of rage, revenge, loss, and anxiety. Before I completely shut down, I had to snap out of it. So, I turned my attention to the Pentagon, knowing full well that when I got home, I was going to see the devastation in New York and experience the same emotions when I watched the news.

As the fires raged on at the Pentagon, we organized ourselves into teams of four people with a stretcher. The task was now different. We were only to extract living bodies because the FBI declared the wreckage as one big crime scene. We never got the chance to go in because the fires were expected to rage on for hours more. No one could go in until it was declared safe. At that point, I decided I had done all I could do. I made the decision to go home.

By the time I got to the metro station, I was tired, angry, sad, but strangely motivated to fight back. I must have looked the way I described myself because several people were looking at me as if I stepped in a time warp and it was 1969 all over again.   They must have been wondering what was going through my mind. I'm sure they felt sorry for me, but at the same time I thought they might have been seeking my non-verbal reassurance that everything was going to be OK. I could not give them that sense of confidence because I didn't have it at that moment. I was extremely insecure about how my country was going to deal with this mess, about how our lives were going to change, and how future generations were going to deal with this new aspect of terrorism. That day, we entered a period of great uncertainty, and I simply had no answers, for them or me. In some respects, I still have no answers.

Like many other people, I will never forget this day. When people ask me, "Where were you on 911?", I'll tell them I was at the Pentagon, fulfilling my obligations. I'll tell them that I was supporting the warfighter in the field and doing what I could to protect my country and our way of life. I'll tell them about the mounds of "prideful anger" I felt trying to come to the aid of others, as I would hope others would do if the same thing happened to me. I'll tell them about the pain, anger, frustration, and confusion I felt as I pondered the death and destruction which lay before me. Lastly, I'll tell them about the resiliency of our national spirit, and how, regardless of rank or stature, our Pentagon family pulled together for a common cause of immense proportions.