(LifeSiteNews) — For as many years as I can remember, on the anniversary of 9/11, at the end of the day, my wife and I find ourselves in a local watering hole ordering chicken wings and having a beer (or two) reflecting on the day’s events and toasting friends we lost that tragic day. This year will be no different.
How it came to be that we found ourselves sitting at a bar eating chicken wings as part of our family’s 9/11 remembrance, I really couldn’t tell you, but I can say with certainty that I will “never forget” the events of that day, or will I forget the days and weeks that followed, although looking back it seems like one very long day – a day that probably really didn’t end for me until I retired in 2022.
I was working that day in the South Bronx, still a young lieutenant, preparing for the day tour when we found out that the towers were hit … all eyes were glued to the television as we listened to the department radio gathering as much information as possible. Of course, each of us wanted to respond, but operational discipline was paramount, and you don’t respond unless you get assigned to “the Box,” and we understood that even better when we saw the towers collapse as we knew instinctively that many of our friends had just perished, I was no longer that “young” lieutenant.
In the immediate aftermath of those attacks, the FDNY mobilized all of its resources, and not only to address the rescue efforts in lower Manhattan but to provide fire protection across the five boroughs, which the FDNY had proudly and bravely done continuously for 136 years up till then. But with the loss of 343 members and the department’s ranks decimated, this would be no easy task.
As is always the case, the members of this department – from probies to chief officers – rose to the occasion. We kept responding to fires and emergencies, saving lives and protecting property.
The rescue and recovery efforts would not end until May 2022, and all of those lost would be provided with a funeral service worthy of a head of state.
On September 14, 2001, I along with other members of my firehouse who had just gotten off duty after a busy 24-hour tour did what every other member of the FDNY did that morning: We got in our cars and headed down to “Ground Zero.” This was the same day that President George W. Bush would give his iconic speech from on top of “the pile.”
You could see the military aircraft overhead, you could hear the chants of “USA, USA, USA” echoing off the rubble, and you could feel that energy from the other side of the collapsed walls of the World Trade Center, but we were too far removed from that part of the site to be eyewitnesses to that historic speech. But it didn’t matter. We still had work to do.
When our work was done for that day, we decided to head back up north to the Bronx, but we also decided we would attend Father Mychal Judge’s wake at Saint Francis of Assisi Church in Midtown. As Father Judge was a dear friend of our firehouse, celebrating an annual memorial Mass every June on the apparatus floors of the firehouse, we wanted to ensure we paid our respects, but more importantly, we wanted to pray for our chaplain, friend and brother.
It was on our way to the wake when a good friend of mine, Ray Callinan, a good and holy man, pulled me aside and mentioned to me that since I was on the list to be promoted that that promotion might happen sooner rather than later, because as I mentioned previously, the ranks of the department had been decimated. I respectfully dismissed my good friend’s insight. So, we entered the Church, paid our respects, said a prayer and headed back to East 143rd Street.
As soon as I entered the firehouse, I received a call from the chief of personnel informing me that I was to show up at headquarters in Brooklyn on 9/16 for my promotion to captain … just me, no family, no guests, just a swearing in, no ceremony. One hundred sixty-seven other members received a similar call.
I wanted to turn it down in order to stay with my company, because with promotions always came a new firehouse assignment. I hesitantly said “OK” and then eventually broke down in my friend’s arms.
The next morning, a new tour started in the firehouse, and a new plan for the promotion ceremony came about as well. It would now be a major public event with Mayor Rudy Giuliani attending, as well as many other prominent politicians. I saw this as a way for New York to show the world that we as a city and a nation may be down, but we will rise once again, and with the FDNY leading the way we would do just that.
Although there were 168 promotions that somber day, many others would be promoted as well, like my friend Vernon Richards. We had both been promoted to lieutenant together seven years earlier, I would eventually be assigned to his previous firehouse, and he would be assigned to Ladder 7, a company I would later have the privilege to lead as a chief in the Eighth Battalion, where he would eventually respond to Box 8087 on September 11.
The last time I saw Vernon was that summer of 2001, just a few weeks before 9/11 at a company picnic. I vividly remember sharing this story as a lesson for my 11-year-old son after he witnessed an awful act of bad sportsmanship from a player on the other team during one of his CYO basketball games just a few months after 9/11 and at a parish that had just buried five members of the FDNY.
Vernon and I were playing in a three-on-three basketball game, neither of us all that graceful on the court but neither of us afraid to bang it up under the boards either, we went at it for a bit until the game was over. I told my son I still have no idea who won that game, but then I asked him, not expecting a reply, if he knew where that man was today. He shrugged as I expected he would and said, “I don’t know, Dad.” I explained that this man, my friend, was killed during the attacks of 9/11 and then promoted posthumously to the rank of captain, a lesson in humility not only for my son but for me as well.
So today as we honor the memory of my friend Vernon and the other 342 firefighters, as well as all the heroes of the NYPD, PAPD, our military and all those who went to work that day never to return home, let us take a moment and say a prayer for them and their families, and if you just happen to find yourself in my neighborhood, the chicken wings and the beer are on me.
Tom Lapolla is a former New York City Fire Department Battalion Chief.