(LifeSiteNews) — Even before 9/11, 2001 had already proven to be a very challenging year for the New York Fire Department (FDNY).
In late August, a young firefighter, Michael Gorumba, succumbed to injuries after fighting a three-alarm fire in Staten Island. I remember very clearly attending his funeral in my old hometown and seeing friends I hadn’t seen in a while. You see, at funerals for fallen colleagues, we honor the dead but catch up with the living.
Two friends I saw that morning outside of Saint Charles Roman Catholic Church were Capt. Vinny Brunton and Lt. Glenn Perry. I remember distinctly having a good laugh with Glenn and then when I saw Vinny, I asked him one question, “Hey, Vin, are you studying for Chief?” His answer was not only quick but prophetic as well. “No Tom” he said, “I’m a Captain for life.” Two weeks later, both of these men would be dead.
On the morning of September 11, I had just finished working a night in the South Bronx and was preparing to start the day tour as a Lieutenant in Engine 60. While shaving, I heard over the voice alarm, “A 3rd Alarm has been transmitted for Manhattan Box 8087-The World Trade Center.”
To be honest, initially I wasn’t too concerned as 3rd Alarms in Hi-Rise buildings are common because you need manpower to cover the large footprint of these buildings.
And then even when I heard it was a plane that struck one of the towers, I just thought, “Wow, bad pilot.” It was not until I started to listen to the department radio and turned on the television that I realized that this was obviously much bigger than I had originally thought.
When the second plane struck the South Tower, it confirmed what many of us in the firehouse had already assumed: We were under attack.
Within two hours, thousands of people would be killed as both towers collapsed, including 343 members of the Fire Department of the City of New York.
And while our day tour continued in the Bronx, names of the deceased members of our department straggled in a few at a time. The one name I did not want to see on any of those lists was my younger brother Joe, who was working a day tour in Brooklyn – where many of the FDNY casualties were from. But because his unit was at a scheduled training event, he arrived at the World Trade Center shortly after both towers collapsed. So, my mother and father, himself a retired firefighter, who had two sons working that day, were blessed that both their sons were safe, but sadly there were other parents who lost not one but two of their firefighter sons.
In the days and weeks that followed 9/11, we were all either working in the firehouse, working amid the rubble of the fallen towers, referred to as “The Pile,” or attending funerals and memorials of our fallen brothers – a very grueling and demanding schedule.
Members of the department continued to operate heroically under dangerous conditions recovering the dead, and the funerals were all well attended — with the pipes and drum band always leading the way — providing the families of our lost brothers a dignified and respectful FDNY presence.
Eventually, when the city and the department were able to catch their collective breath, a more organized approach to the rescue and recovery efforts was eventually implemented. Members would be detailed to “The Pile” as part of a task force for a 30-day period, with the sole purpose of victim recovery, returning to the firehouse after 30 days, and then replaced by a new batch of firefighters. This schedule would be in effect until the FDNY left “Ground Zero” in May 2002.
I was honored to be part of the first team down there in November 2001, working with a group of amazing men, men who I will always hold in the highest esteem. They know who they are.
We were tasked with the very difficult job of search and recovery; working in an environment created by two collapsed high-rise buildings that were occupied by thousands can be quite demanding, both physically and emotionally. Although most of the victims were recovered in the months that followed our detail, our team did find and recover many of those who were lost, and in doing so we were helping bring closure to those families.
When a victim was found it was not unusual to see work stop, because when any victim was found and recovered — either a civilian or member of a uniform force — a dignified honor guard was always provided.
I will never forget one honor guard we provided to a police officer who was found by members of the FDNY but respectfully recovered by his brother police officers. It was around 2 a.m. when what appeared to be an endless line of police officers, firefighters and construction workers all respectfully lined up to pay their final respects to this fallen hero as he was escorted home for the last time.
In the months and years to come, the stories of the heroic actions of the FDNY began to be told. It wasn’t until I started to work in the 8th Battalion and with the brave men of Engine 21 in mid-town Manhattan that I learned of the selfless heroism of Capt. Billy Burke.
Burke, a renaissance man if you will, was a Captain in the NYC Fire Department, a well decorated and a very respected Fire Officer, and was in Command of Engine 21 on the morning of 9/11.
He was given orders to operate with his crew in the North Tower. While working on the 27th floor, they came upon two men, one of whom was a quadriplegic. Shortly after that the South Tower would collapse, and with the order to evacuate given, he had a hard decision to make: he knew he could not abandon the two men they were in the process of rescuing, but he also knew he needed to protect his men and get them home safely to their families.
So, Captain Burke ordered his men to go ahead of him, and with the voice of a confident leader he yelled to them, “I’ll meet you at the rig.”
Well, it was that last heroic order, a last act of love that saved the life of all the men working in Engine 21 that day.
Billy’s story is just one of “343” stories of heroism. Unfortunately, there is not enough room to catalogue all of them here, but I do know this, that today on the 24th Anniversary of 9/11, each of those stories will be told in firehouses, and quite possibly at some of the bars as well, throughout all of NYC, remembering those who gave their all, so that others may live.
Rest in peace, brothers, we will never forget!
Tom Lapolla is a former New York City Fire Department Battalion Chief
