By this time, we went to the opposite side of the street across from the Pentagon. Things were more organized and folks were writing triage tags on the patients. I went over to a young man and asked his name and if he would like me to call someone on my cell phone to tell him or her he was OK. “John” was pleased and told me to call his mother “Georgia”, and started to give me the phone number. It was a 716 area code!! My hometown area code!! He said he was from Niagara Falls. I told him I grew up in Cheektowaga. The he said “let me talk to her–if she hears your voice you will scare her.” As I was trying to reach his mom, the thunder from US fighter planes roared overhead. Several victims were traumatized by the airplane sound and we had to reassure them that “it was our own.” “It’s our boys,” we said, “It’s the good guys.” John was taken to the hospital in a private citizen’s vehicle before I reached his mother, Georgia. It took several attempts to call her, as cell signals were busy all the time. When I finally reached Georgia I stated, “John is OK” as quickly as I could so as not to scare her. I then stated my name and that it was an unofficial call. I told Georgia that I was just with her son; he looked good and was going to the hospital to be evaluated. She was crying very hard and was thanking me many times over. I called Georgia yesterday for an update on John; he has called her and is doing fine.
Next I went over to a lady covered with a blanket, bundled on a stretcher. She was a civilian. The head of her stretcher was on the down slope of the small hill with her feet nearer the top; probably to help with shock. She was alone and I went over to reassure her. This must be when the Washington Post photographer snapped our photo. “Pat” had a very rough voice; probably a lot of smoke inhalation. I asked if she wanted me to call someone, but she said no. She asked for her purse and described it as a black bag with two handles. I chuckled a little and hoped Pat would too when I said, “we all have black bags in the military.” I never did find Pat’s bag before they took her in a civilian vehicle to an area hospital.
It was clear that things were settled in this location and we were redirected to the south parking medical station. This was the “hub”–directly in front of the impact area at the Pentagon. Medical personnel were setting up tents, medical supplies were pouring in. Doctors and surgical teams from Army and Air Force hospitals. Military air evac helicopters were just across the road. I stood waiting for direction as to how I could help. A Navy CAPT asked for someone who could take “notes” so I raised my hand and off I went. I was going to be his runner, relaying info between the “immediate” medical site established under the bridge (for fear of other attacks) to the “command post” that was set up. I soon learned his name was CAPT Feerick, a reserve neurologist from Ohio. This was his story: His office for reserve duty was directly at the impact site–had he not gone to the Pentagon concourse to buy some T-Shirts for his kids, he would have been killed.
I scrambled to find something to write with and all I could find was a paper bag (turned out to be a FBI evidence bag) and a “good old government skilcraft pen.” Those of you who use and loose these by the dozen are probably snickering! I was introduced to MSgt Sepulveda, a USAF reservist who had also been the lead medical support person at Kohbar towers. CAPT Feerick told me we were going to work together. I also met LtCol Hororho USA Nurse Corp. She works a few corridors past the impact area and felt and heard the impact in a significant way.
At this point, I think they still expected live casualties, but no one could go into the building until the fire was under control. My first assignment from CAPT Feerick was to go to the “immediate” area and get two volunteers who could identify “living/dead” for triage. The Command Physician, a civilian with the emergency response team was very emphatic…anyone who was “alive” would get care…he would not permit anyone to be triaged as expectant–that we had the full resources for medical care and we would use them. He was almost angry when he said it and he repeated this several times. CAPT Feerick said a nurse or PA would be very helpful to triage live/dead. So off I went to the immediate triage area under the bridge to ask for two volunteers for this grim duty. Surprisingly, two very enthusiastic young people said, “I can do that” with firm faces and pressed lips. I took down their names: Valerie Burkes and PRC Mickey Cotton. We returned to the Command Post to wait for further instructions. CAPT Feerick eventually briefed Valerie and SPC Cotton to remain at the “red” triage area and he would call when they were needed.
I pretty much shadowed CAPT Feerick hoping to help in any way I could. I realized that he and the Command Physician were doing lots of walking and talking but not drinking or eating so I scooped up some food items and water and handed these to the CAPT and the doctor. Later he was looking pretty sunburned and USAF Chief McIntosh secured the only hat he could find: an 11th Medical Group burgundy baseball cap. Now the CAPT was really tri-service! It was the only joke we afforded ourselves.
At one point there was a loud cheer clapping. We all thought “finally, survivors!” We looked over to see a firefighter in one of the windows holding up the American Flag. When he brought that flag out, military stood at attention, saluted and performed the official flag folding ceremony. Afterwards, they handed the flag to an Army 3-star. It seemed almost instinctive…the chaplains circled around the 3-star and started to pray. More and more joined the circle and it was the first time for many of us that we let a tear roll down our cheeks.
Later, CAPT Feerick was briefing Admiral Madison who needed to know what our “burn treatment” resources were in the area. I used my cell phone to call some numbers I had recorded earlier to find out the information from Walter Reed. I finally reached Lt Col Goff who relayed the number of beds he had available and stated that the number of burn injuries he could receive depended on the severity of the burns. We recorded that information and relayed it to the Command Physician.
As the medical team conferred with the rescue and firefighting leadership, it was clear that the medical team needed to be prepared for primarily non-living casualties. CAPT Feerick asked me to find out how many body bags were in the immediate area and to have the folks bring them forward to the triage area. One more unpleasant trip to the immediate area under the bridge.
I watched as LtCol Hororho walked around in high heal shoes and finally remembered that I drove into work that day and had a pair of sneakers in the car–I’d give her my flat military shoes if they would fit. Luckily she had the same shoe size as I, so we waited for a convenient time for me to break away and get my sneakers. LtCol Hororho and I chatted about our faith in Jesus, which version of the bible we were reading and other reassuring literature we have enjoyed.
An interesting twist of words: two firefighters came over asking for Tylenol. I said “you stay here, I’ll bring the Tylenol to you.” As I handed them Tylenol and checked to be sure they were drinking enough water to prevent dehydration the one firefighter said “You are a lifesaver.” I replied “You must be joking! You are the lifesavers. Thank you for all you are doing!”
As the afternoon wore on into dusk and then nighttime, the Command Physician and military medical coordinators Admiral Madison, CAPT Ferrick, Lt Col Hororho, USA Nurse Corp planned evolving medical contingencies. From living/dead triage to “this is Oklahoma–minimal survivors” and finally to “no expected survivors, but we need a medical contingency in case we have rescue and firefighter medical emergencies” and finally to finding a “relief” so we could go home for the night.
I handed off my “brick” radio to Dr. Cho, who was CAPT Feerick’s replacement for the night so he could appoint his own go-fer.
As I walked to my car at about 10PM, I called Rick to tell him I was on my way. I saw a young man walking and asked him if he needed a ride. He said he had to go to the Navy Annex past Bolling AFB, but only if it was in my direction. I smiled and said, “it’s your lucky day, it is my direction.” How this young man thought he would get home that night is beyond me. I dropped him off at the Navy Lodge and drove back to Fairfax to our town house where I was greeted with a really long hug from my wonderful husband.
Once again, thanks for letting me tell this story just one time instead of many. I feel much better and truly am not afraid. Remember, if you have faith you don’t worry. Believe! Pray! and Fly your flag! If you choose to live in fear, the enemy has achieved their objective. God Bless America, God Bless our leaders as they work to apply justice and God Bless you!
[LtCol Deltuva received the Air Force Meritorius Service Medal for her actions on 11-September-2001.]