9-11-2001 Where were you?

I remember exactly where I was like it was yesterday. I was at work and I was working with a guy named Joe off of a service truck. We were at Joe Miller’s house repairing irrigation valves in his front yard. We were both covered in mud and dirt when Joe, the home owner, emerged from the house. He walked over to where we were working and told us that we had to come inside and see what was happening on the television. We were at first hesitant because of the mud, but he insisted that we come inside.

He had a big plasma TV on the wall and as we watched they showed footage of the second plane slamming into the towers. We stared in awe at the footage for about 15 minutes until it was interrupted by a new report. Rueters said that the Pentagon had been attacked and eyewitnesses on the ground said that a helicopter had fired a missile at it. I am not making any of this up; they later backtracked on the report, but we were long gone by them.

Shortly afterwards we hit the road to head back to our shop and as we did, we discussed the significance of the helicopter. Knowing what the range of a helicopter is pretty much guarantees that it is not foreign. A military helicopter of our own flavor firing on the Pentagon has a totally different significance.

So, as we are traveling we approached an intersection and there was a car parked in the turn lane, kind of cockeyed with the door open.As we slowed down to see what was up , a guy gets out and approaches us. He’ like early forties, long hair and kind of rough. Joe rolled down the driver’s window and this is what the guy has to tell us;” I just wanted to give you guys a heads up. My brother in law is in the military and he just called my sister. He told her to grab the kids and head for the mountains as fast as she can because the birds are up and in the air.”

We looked at him in shock. This dude was serious and believed every word he said. “Who’s birds are up? Ours? Theirs? Russia?”. He indicated that he did not know and was just passing the message. He closed by wishing us well and telling us to watch our asses.From that point on we got in a serious hurry and double timed it back to our shop.

Of course when we got there, we got the real story of what was going down. My wife worked there at the time doing dispatch and she couldn’t understand the level of freaked out we had going on when we came in and frankly I don’t think she ever will.She had the TV on and quickly gave us the low down on and assured us that there were no helicopters or birds in the air.

So later that day ,Joe being all introspective, asked me what I would have done if the birds really were in the air. I told him that I would have rushed down to the corner deli, which is right down the street, and gotten two bottles of wine and a hard salami. He looked at me perplexed and queried “Why?” I told him that my wife Deborah and I would sit in the parking lot and down the bottles of wine and wait; It wouldn’t be a long wait. So then he asked what I would do with the salami.

I asked him if he knew what a nuclear shadow was and he replied that he didn’t. I explained that if you are near a building or something similar, that when you are vaporized in a nuclear blast it leaves a shadow of your form. I then told him that after drinking the wine I was going to lay down in the parking lot and put the salami between my legs.Now he was really perplexed and wanted to know for what possible reason I would do that. I told him that some day some future archaeologists, 3000 years from now might excavate this parking lot and when they did they would say ” Hey, look at this. This dude is hung like a horse.”

He just looked at me and shook his head. “You really are a sick twisted bastard, You know that?”

I know. I am.

4 responses to “9-11-2001 Where were you?

  1. Reblogged this on LadyRaven's Whisky In A Jar – OH! and commented:
    “sick twisted bastard” – no – the jihadist and whoever was behind them were/are the sick twisted bastards.

    I was sleeping what was probably the last innocent sleep of my life. The phone rang, a sister from Texas, hysterical, turn on the TV! I sat there for five minutes before I watched the second tower come down. I ran to the bathroom where husband was showering and as calmly as possible told him what was going on. He had just broken his ankle a week before and was basically immobile, could not get out with any speed but he denied what I was saying could be true.

    Back in front of the TV – by myself – I wept and rocked, sometimes just wailing. The transformation from what was a possible accident to being absolutely positive we were under attack when I saw the second building hit was very fast and the level of anger I moved to emotionally has never left my psyche.

    Sorrow, oh hell yeah to this day I feel the sorrow – but the anger and rage will dominate until I die which explains much of my animus towards “our” jihadist-in-chief. He bides. The dude (fuc***) abides. But not much longer I suspect.


  2. I was asleep in my apartment off base in Vista CA. I was stationed at Camp Pendleton. I was just about ready to roll out of bed to go for a morning PT session with my platoon when my girlfriend comes into the room screaming for me to get out of bed and turn on the TV. Right about the time I turned on the TV I get a call from my Platoon Sgt. I answered and he says “Stackz, get your ass here most motherfucking ricky-tick. We’ve been attacked in New York at the Trade Center and intel is saying that there are more planes unaccounted for and for us to expect anything. Get to the motor pool, get the Marines accounted for and ready to hit the armory. I’ll meet you there, out…” I was hearing this shit in my ear as they kept playing the first plane hitting over and over on TV. It was unreal what I was seeing. I had to shake off the shock for a minute to get my feet moving and get laced up to make it on base. I grabbed all my gear since I knew were either about to go to war or we were about to be locked down on base for a few days. The entrance to the back gate at Pendleton looked like someone kicked over an ant mound. MP’s, Feds, Dog Handlers, Mirrors under cars, Bomb sniffing dogs, the whole fucking show was on and very real. They were not letting anyone off base and hardly anyone on without a thorough inspection.

    The second plane hit right after I pulled through the gate and I did not know it until I was able to get to my platoon and hear the news that another fucking plane hit… I made it to the motor pool, got a headcount, prepped our vehicles in sticks to roll out, and sent our Devils down to the armory to meet our Platoon Sgt. Small arms and crew served weapons issued, we returned to the motor pool with our dicks harder than Japanese Trigonometry because we knew that there were some war drums beating off in the distance and that we were finally about to get our fill of the foreign deserts of the world and kick some major Haji’s asses. Then, we hear about the other planes and the Pentagon. We didn’t know what to think. I do know this, we were not scared and were itching to go fight and kill the motherfuckers responsible for this bullshit and the killing of innocent people. We sat there all day glued to Howard Stern and the local news coverage just watching the footage over and over and over… We didn’t know anything for 3 days as we sat there and slept on cots and eating MRE’s waiting for the signal for us to get on the LCAC’s to head out to the ships. All we knew was that the fucking gloves were off and we couldn’t wait to bloody those fuckers’ noses. The signal never came. After three days of waiting they sent us back to normal day to day operations in the motor pool on stand by status. We were fucking pissed. It’s a day I’ll never forget the rest of my life. I left the USMC shortly after, in 2002. As soon as I left in July, my unit got orders to deploy two weeks after. It just wasn’t in the cards for me to do anything but get out of the Mariens and come back to Texas to try and nurse myself back to health after an injury that happened while on a WESTPAC. Had I gone on without that injury happening, the plan was to re-up and become a lifer. At this present time I’d have 1 enlistment left to be able to retire at the young age of 39. Oh well… Life goes on.


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