NYC-WTC_000152373

NYC 9/11 Public Portal Document CT LJJ V

Edward Keating/The New York Times Firefighters sleeping near the search scene. Some had arrived wearing other men’s gear. One had on boots several sizes too big.

spect. Sometimes no one noticed in time. beads of toothpaste. In those quiet moments, anyone could be What day was it? Sometimes no one knew. Until the rain showers, which turned the a chaplain, as long as you had ears. Thursday, right? Thursday. Sure. ash into a muck like wet cement and made He said his first name and then he said There was progress. Someone swept up the air clean. The place was coming back. he had dug up two decomposing corpses. the glass from the floors in the buildings. Crowd-control efforts swung between He was a tradesman. He was scared and Someone mopped water in the lobbies. too loose and too tight. One day there were his body had given up. He slid off his Someone stacked mountains of trash. too many volunteers. The next, someone soaked pants and socks, and sat on the Someone handed out helmets and gloves. overcorrected and there were too few. edge of his cot in a hallway outside the It went like this; stop anyone, ask him to At one breakfast, four women who had Brokers’ Loft restaurant, eyes bulging and lift this beam, drag that bag, move those spent the night struggled to keep up. They streaked with grime, a tough middle-age boxes. He’d do it. When someone asked were in mad disbelief. “We need people,” guy in his underwear, about to break you, you did it, too. pleaded Angelica, who had not slept from down. Gradually, the edges were coming back. the day before. “We’ve got to have more.” Five times, he said, he had to sprint out By Thursday the 13th, Mr. Castellano, On Friday the 14th, hints of good humor when the whistle blew and everyone still there, had coordinated with the Salva­ emerged, or maybe it was crime. At John- thought something else was coming down. tion Army and Cross-Cultural Solutions, a ney’s Fish Grill, construction workers Was it a building? Which one? The pile? nonprofit organization from New’ Ro­ commandeered the bar. One slid open the Who cares? Go! Which way? Go! chelle, N,Y, Meals became more organ­ cooler and shouted with delight. “Look at Five sprints for your life were enough ized. Hot plates once a day. then all the this' ” he said, plucking out a long-necked for one man. His legs were cramped. His time. That night there was creme bruiee bottle of beer. “Two hundred beautiful bot­ mind was jumpy. Now when he worked he from the Tribeca Grill. tles of juice!” served food, standing by the overhanging The volunteers forced meals, water and For a few hours, there was a speak-easy glass in a building that had been frantical­ pastries on all who passed by. They traded in plain view of the police. Tables were ly evacuated several times, too. snippets of names: Mia, Tom, Amy. T. J.. still set for a lunch crowd that never Those two-block dashes had resembled Phil. showed up. The men leaned forward on Civil War retreats, a dream of stained uni­ My brother, Matthew, arrived from Al­ stools. Their forearms left imprints in forms swirling together amid random bany. He’s a former Marine Corps infan­ dust. They passed out free drinks and lit sounds; panting, footfalls, the plunk of a tryman. He walked down the West Side one another’s cigarettes. dropped helmet, high-pitched single-sylla­ Highway. The cops let him pass. He found The cops shut them down. ble swearing, the rustling of your own me in a windowless building, opened an Later, much later, by the morning of clothes as you tried'to extend your stride. olive-green pack and pulled out gifts. A Sept. 22, the ash and the glass was gone, He was confused. Where was the line be­ toothbrush. Clean pants. A pair of combat bagged up or rinsed away. There were tween exuding confidence and being a boots turned soft as velvet from years of more food tents, rings of chain-link fences, fool? “It’s the weirdest thing,’’ he said. forced marches. He urged sleep. Then he rows of Porta Potties, a new set of Nation­ “One minute they say, ‘Everything’s went looking for a way to pitch in. al Guard sentries and a forest of cranes fine.’ ’’ A storm came through before midnight, crowding the air in the shattered urban He thought about it. “The next minute and the winds whipped abrasive ash from amphitheater where the World Trade Cen­ they scream, ‘Run! ”’ the roofs and swirled it around. Down­ ter had stood. There were several places He put his head on a cot and was asleep drafts and dust devils, stinging in the eyes. to get bacK rubs. within minutes. At dawn, when people be­ People’s lungs felt like they had just But not yet. On the night of the 14th, the gan dressing and stretching in the make­ smoked 10 packs of Luckys. The taste of inhabitants were still seeking crannies for shift barracks, he stepped into his pants smoke lingered even after licking big sleep. '■ -> and said he was going back to the pile.

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