The following is my cousin's response to my sister's e-mail asking if his wife is OK. His wife works at the Pentagon. Only because he describes her so, I will mention that he is white and she is black.

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Barbara,  I am so exhausted and awed from yesturday's events I hardly know where to begin, except to say we were both there!

Denise's office is being moved out to another building so she has been in the process of sorting out which records to send to the new office and which to bring home for storage.  I had agreed to drive Denise in and load the van up with boxes to bring home.  Yesturday morning about 8:15 we said good bye to the kids leaving them to work on their school assignments.  I expected to be back within two hours and I admonished Phillip to focus on his work so we could get started on his math as soon as I got back.  I had been up very late the night before scanning Aunt Kappy's photo album and was still very sleepy and had to slap myself a few times to stay awake.  For the entire drive I was trying to work out how I might squeeze in a nap given the packed schedule I was facing for the rest of the day.

When we arrived at the Pentagon it took several minutes to get security to clear the van as we needed to park on the Mall entrance deck to have the "Gunny" load the boxes.  I parked in one of the visitors slots about 80 feet from the entrance and Denise went inside to her office.  Between the walk to her "A" ring office on the inner court and the usual distractions and interruptions she usually gets, I knew I would have up to 30 minutes before they would come out with the first load.  That would take care of the nap issue.

When I spotted the gunny comming through the entrance pushing a large cart of boxes, I backed out of my parking space and pulled up to the steps.  We emptied the cart  and the gunny said he would be a while getting back with the second load so I decided to pull back into my  parking place, as the guards tend to get edgy when unofficial cars linger at the entrance.  At that moment Denise came down the stairs and told me she had to return to her office for about 10 minutes.  "They want me to write a couple of memos; They've just hit the World Trade center in New York and we don't know if there are other targets", she said.  

It has long been a pet peeve of mine that for years VERY low overflights have been permitted at the Pentagon and the METRO runs right through the building.  I've always believed that when the attack came It would be a sudden rush of terrorists up the escalators from the trains. So I gave her a kiss and said, "I don't know about other targets but I would be more worried  about THIS building.  As usual she dismissed the idea, dashed up the stairs and disappeared through the entrance.

I moved the car back to the parking slot and waited.  It was a little chilly and I did not have a jacket so I left the windows closed and relaxed again.   A few minutes later my attention was snapped back to the building.  I was instantly aware of the roar of engines.  Although I could not see the source of the noise I knew instantly what was about to happen!  I can't explain how I knew what I couldn't see but time slowed to a crawl and I thought; "It's coming and it's going to hit."  The scene seemed to be moving in still pictures, frame by frame, . . click! . . .click! . . . click!

The roar of the engines came to a sickening stop and there was a fraction of a moment when it seemed there was no sound on earth, followed closely by an oddly hushed THUD!  Debis shloshed over the roof and rained down on the parking deck in front of me, like water  from a wading pool.  Then came the concussion,  the ground shook, the building shook, and the noise came back!   I looked up again into the face of an angry, boiling, swelling thing.  A black and burning orange ball of pure hate rose to what seemed like two hundred feet in height and breadth above the central court yard.  Then came the  heat wave and through the glass I felt the burning on my skin and for a few moments I knew the face of Satan!

From where I sat I was positive it had hit the central court yard.  From the direction it came in I knew it would have taken the "A" ring of the wedge occupied by the offices of the Secretary of Defense.  Of course!  That would be the logical target. Did Denise hear the roar as I did and look out the window?  There would have been no time to run. Did she see it? Did she suffer?  These were my thoughts because at that moment I knew she was dead.    I sprang from the car but realized I would not be allowed in the building.  I tried to get on the parking deck wall as if that would help me see over the roof into the courtyard.  I ran mindlessly back to the car and dialed her office and let it ring thirty times; no answer.  I thought of our children at homeby themselves.  My God! MY God! Are they bombing other military installations?  No, No,  this was a plane not a bomb.   Should I call the kids?  No, they should not be alone when they hear.  Have they heard?  No, no, the radio is going on and on about New York,  old news,  they don't know yet,  Thank you God!  I need to go to them!  I need to stay here!!  I called Carrie, Denise's sister at the department of Ed.  "I want you to go get the kids.  Get them off the instillation."  "I can't" she screamed,  "I have to get to my sister".  I pleaded but it was no use.  I let her go.   

Try to call Aunt Jean.  She is near the post.  "We are sorry, all circuts are busy."  Ten minutes of this went by as I struggled to get word out to someone who could help.  Sirens all over, yet no crowds pouring through the door.   Only a few stragglers, coughing, brushing off plaster dust, trying to breathe.  Was it soo devistating?  Are there more dead than alive?  Maybe she made it, maybe so!  Is it possible?  I grabbed a lady in a grey suit.  She was dazed and doubled over, trying to catch her breath.  "Did it hit the courtyard?  Did it hit the courtyard?", I yelled as I shook her.  "I don't know, what was it?  I told her it was a plane.  "Oh, God!", she said.  "If it hit the courtyard, they are all gone!"  "Did you know someone in there?", she asked.  "Yes, Yes, I did", I said, "my wife's office was on the courtyard side."  She looked at me sadly and walked off.

Back in the car again.  Trying to get a line out.  God be with me.  I need you with me now.  I look up through the windshield across the parking deck.   There is someone over their, a black woman, searching, looking around.  She's wearing the suit.  I see her face.  GOD, Oh God, it's her!  Unhurt!  Looking for me.

I can't describe the height of relief and joy?  To answer your first question, Yes Denise is OK.

Yes I am at this moment planning to proceed with the reunion.  You may have to submit to an auto search at the gate, so if you can put up with that I will be here to welcome you.  If we have to plan our lives around evil things then we must submit to the power of evil.  I am not in a submissive mood!

-- Anonymous, September 13, 2001

Answers

Wow, Buddy, thank you for sharing that look into this tragedy. Very well written.

-- Anonymous, September 13, 2001

Summary

The glimmer of hope, the possibility, the realization, the JOY of seeing her! The range of emotions he went through is such a short period of time that some people never experience in an entire lifetime. I am thrilled by the miracle of his wife's survival. This is incredible. In the midst of so much misery and hopelessness for so many, this miracle emerges. I felt like I was living it as I read it. This says more than anything I have heard or read so far has. This takes me there, makes me feel what he is feeling, the concern for his children and his wife ripping him apart, his immediate attempts to protect his children while feeling the horror of his wife being in the building as it was hit. Especially right after having just voiced his concern about the possibility of it happening.

The glimmer of hope, the possibility, the realization, the JOY of seeing her! The range of emotions he went through is such a short period of time that some people never experience in an entire lifetime.

Please tell him I, and I am sure many others have been touched by his experience. I am thrilled by the miracle of his wife's survival. They must be mourning many friends and coworkers who were not as fortunate, but that should not take anything away from their own personal miracle. Thank you for sharing it with us.

-- Anonymous, September 13, 2001

Thanks, Buddy. That's great.

I'm still amazed about that guy who "rode" the 82nd floor of the WTC all the way down!

-- Anonymous, September 13, 2001

Excellent news Buddy. Friend's daughter working in the Pentagon hasn't called yet.

-- Anonymous, September 13, 2001