OK, here we go...for those with a weak stomach or adverse to profanity, you probably should not go on...cuz it is gonna get ugly and probably profane. Anthony, you are cleared to edit at will.
I was a senior officer in the US Air Force in a position that oversaw the largest morgue in the world at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware in the NW US. I was home on leave "vegging" when my wife called me to asked if I had seen the news...that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I'm thinking another puddle jumper, right? Then I turn on the news just in time to see the second airliner strike...holy shit...as I'm sure the rest of you thought. I get a call from the Pentagon to begin to ready the morgue for the remains, when an airliner hits the Pentagon...double holy shit. The next morning, after conferring with the 4-star, I'm on my own special jet en route to Dover...the only frigging plane in the sky.
We started to get people in, dentists, pathologists, explodance disposal, photographers, FBI, military intelligence, troops to move bodies...and many more. Complicating the situation was a NASCAR race in Dover that weekend...that actually took place. But we had no billets, so we had everyone, including the pathologists and FBI 4-bunked in hotels over an hour away. It was ugly.
Then the next day, the helicopters started coming in. Body bags for torsos and FBI "evidence boxes" for parts.
Let me back up and say I have no background in mortuary...and avoid any death if possible. Yesterday, I had to clean up an iguana our cat ate...hurt like hell.
Anyway, as I was trying to get this enormous operation under control (I had lots of help from the professional morticians and pathologists), I felt like I had to be the strong guy...showing no emotion or problems. I insured everyone had work-rest cycles...except me. There was incredible support from the community. We had every meal brought in free (McDonalds, Pizza Hut, etc). That was good for a while, but the only seperation from the "back" and the break room was a swinging door.
I would roam the entire morgue 8-10 times a day, showing support. I have vivid memories (and some memories I have repressed). Probably my most painful is the one time I ventured into the autopsy room...bad idea. Then comes the personal effects, with pictures of loved ones, wedding rings, etc...soaked with jet fuel. With the jet fuel, the smells became very complicated. And of course the remains...a few intact. No open caskets came out of there.
The senior pathologists liked to bullshit...and who better to bullshit that with the guy in charge? So, I learned in great detail the pathology of heads and legs in an airplane crash. I also learned to origin of the many, many flies that were sharing our McDonald's Eggmcmuffuns!
Our biggest challenge, besides the media...was identifying and reassociating the pieces. We used fingerprints, dental records, and DNA to identify every single victim...including the ****ing terrorists.
And to my ongoing disgust, we treated the terrorists with the same compassion we did our own people. I reckon I could have done it differently, but in discussing it with the highest people in the Pentagon, we decided to keep the moral high ground. Lot of good that has done us, huh?
Now, the flashbacks are less often, but the anxiety is tremendous, sometimes unbearable. One day, I took some pills (nothing dangerous) and went to bed (I call it quit...can anyone relate?) at 1 in the afternoon. Today I'm already up after 4, so it is a good day. My wife is a dear...worried sick, but holding stronger than I have ever seen her. I seldom eat...just can't choke it down. I eat lunch with a beer. Which, as I recall, I haven't finished today's...so maybe this is a good place to quit.
Sorry if I have offended anyone...Terry
I was a senior officer in the US Air Force in a position that oversaw the largest morgue in the world at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware in the NW US. I was home on leave "vegging" when my wife called me to asked if I had seen the news...that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I'm thinking another puddle jumper, right? Then I turn on the news just in time to see the second airliner strike...holy shit...as I'm sure the rest of you thought. I get a call from the Pentagon to begin to ready the morgue for the remains, when an airliner hits the Pentagon...double holy shit. The next morning, after conferring with the 4-star, I'm on my own special jet en route to Dover...the only frigging plane in the sky.
We started to get people in, dentists, pathologists, explodance disposal, photographers, FBI, military intelligence, troops to move bodies...and many more. Complicating the situation was a NASCAR race in Dover that weekend...that actually took place. But we had no billets, so we had everyone, including the pathologists and FBI 4-bunked in hotels over an hour away. It was ugly.
Then the next day, the helicopters started coming in. Body bags for torsos and FBI "evidence boxes" for parts.
Let me back up and say I have no background in mortuary...and avoid any death if possible. Yesterday, I had to clean up an iguana our cat ate...hurt like hell.
Anyway, as I was trying to get this enormous operation under control (I had lots of help from the professional morticians and pathologists), I felt like I had to be the strong guy...showing no emotion or problems. I insured everyone had work-rest cycles...except me. There was incredible support from the community. We had every meal brought in free (McDonalds, Pizza Hut, etc). That was good for a while, but the only seperation from the "back" and the break room was a swinging door.
I would roam the entire morgue 8-10 times a day, showing support. I have vivid memories (and some memories I have repressed). Probably my most painful is the one time I ventured into the autopsy room...bad idea. Then comes the personal effects, with pictures of loved ones, wedding rings, etc...soaked with jet fuel. With the jet fuel, the smells became very complicated. And of course the remains...a few intact. No open caskets came out of there.
The senior pathologists liked to bullshit...and who better to bullshit that with the guy in charge? So, I learned in great detail the pathology of heads and legs in an airplane crash. I also learned to origin of the many, many flies that were sharing our McDonald's Eggmcmuffuns!
Our biggest challenge, besides the media...was identifying and reassociating the pieces. We used fingerprints, dental records, and DNA to identify every single victim...including the ****ing terrorists.
And to my ongoing disgust, we treated the terrorists with the same compassion we did our own people. I reckon I could have done it differently, but in discussing it with the highest people in the Pentagon, we decided to keep the moral high ground. Lot of good that has done us, huh?
Now, the flashbacks are less often, but the anxiety is tremendous, sometimes unbearable. One day, I took some pills (nothing dangerous) and went to bed (I call it quit...can anyone relate?) at 1 in the afternoon. Today I'm already up after 4, so it is a good day. My wife is a dear...worried sick, but holding stronger than I have ever seen her. I seldom eat...just can't choke it down. I eat lunch with a beer. Which, as I recall, I haven't finished today's...so maybe this is a good place to quit.
Sorry if I have offended anyone...Terry