Hannah writes:
This is a moving account of a volunteer working in a shelter at Ground Zero. Many things to be thankful for in this holiday season -- especially knowing at all of my loved ones are safe right now. Stay that way.
xo Hannah
Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2001 21:57:45 EST
A volunteer recently wrote a friend of mine. here is what she said:
Last night was hard. One of the big cranes you see on TV fell into the pit. The "pit" is the underground shopping concourse and parking lots that were uncovered last week or so. Most of the firemen currently work there rather than on the pile. Miraculously, no one was injured. The chaps ran like hell and the crane operator was on a break. But now it's an enormous undertaking to get it out.
Also, five of my firemen came in for beds at 4 am or so. I had one bed free (did I tell you? My usual job is checking chaps into the "beds" -- horrible cots eight to a room-- changing linen, and waking them up when they have to go out there again -- usually in 3 hours or less). As always, none of them would take it. No fireman takes a bed if one of his "brothers" (the universal term) has to sleep on the floor. It's beautiful to see the way they care for one another. They bunked down on the filthy floor with blankets, sheets and pillows and asked me to turn the lights down.
I have constant fights with the head of the place -- I turn the lights down or off and he screams because (get this) it is a fire hazard for firemen to sleep in darkness in the main lobby area. It is also a fire hazard for them to sleep in cots. It is not a fire hazard for them to sleep on the filthy floor. (It's only cruel and stupid.) And of course, the fire marshall, the site supervisor, the Red Cross head, and all the people who believe in these asinine rules are never around when it's time to tell an exhausted team of cold wet firemen that they can't have cots and I can't turn the lights down.
When Lou, a sweet lieutenant (I love the lieutenants -- they break my heart -- they take such care of the men working under them) took me aside, grabbed my shoulders and begged me to turn the lights down "for my boys," and when he used all the logical arguments I've been using all along ("These are FIREmen," "They've been working like dogs," etc.,) I'm the one who has to enforce the idiot rules. I did turn down the lights, and my supervisor came roiling out to make me turn them back on.
The poor team lay there miserably for the two hours they had, got up without complaint, and insisted on helping me put away the blankets and pillows they'd used. Then they strapped on what little gear they hadn't slept in and headed back out to the pit. Lou stopped to give me a big hug and to thank me. Thank me! I felt as if I'd assaulted them.
That was last night (Friday). Tonight I amused myself by finagling beds away from well-rested cops on overtime and giving them to firemen. I was abetted by a prodigious snorer who cleared out one entire bedroom when I had no beds left to give out. (I like the cops, but they don't do the work the firemen do. The cops' work is dull and cold and depressing. The firemen's work is dangerous, misery-inducing, filthy, wet, backbreaking and -- Matt, they work in hell. Remember, on a "good" day at Ground Zero, they find bodies.)
One sweet fireman got an hour and a half's rest tonight. When I went in to wake him, I knelt down, touched his hand, and said his name, and (as many of them do) he jumped. It has to be so hideously disorienting to wake up after far too little sleep to find yourself at Ground Zero, in a horrid cot, in a room with 7 other men, being awakened by a stranger and to know you have to go back out there. (And they all thank me for it.) This particular fireman simply grabbed my hand and clung to it. So I stayed there for several minutes. Neither of us spoke or moved. We just held hands in the darkness.
I could go on forever. These men are astonishing. I am hugely proud to know them even the tiny bit I do.
| Ground Zero | 9/11 | New York City |
