Eric and I hadn’t been married long, and he hadn’t been living in New Jersey long. We were on our way to family court in Jersey City. As we were going through the toll booths on the Garden State Parkway at Raritan the radio announced that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. They thought it was a small plane and asked everyone to pray for the victims. I immediately said, “That’s terrorism.”

Being a former air traffic controller, he said, “No honey, it’s just an accident. You don’t know that it’s terrorism.”

Being a Jersey Downtown Girl I said, “Oh no, our pilots are trained to ditch in the river. I know that is terrorism. I felt it in my gut.”

As we got through the tolls traffic was backed up a bit, but it got so much worse when we got off the exit for the NJ Turnpike. It came to a dead stop around the Carteret exit.

While we sat there thinking about where to find an exit to get off the turnpike, the skyline was right across from us. At the very minute we watched the second plane hit. If I close my eyes I can still see the flare of red, the black smoke, and feel every hair on my body stand up, the feeling of flight or fight kick in, but also feeling so helpless.

Under attack

Overhead we had F-16s roaring in the sky. Eric, who was in the Navy, knew the sound well. When we could, we got off the turnpike and high-tailed it home.

When we walked into our living room my secretary Margaret had come from my business office downstairs.

Her brother was working in one of the towers. Then came the news that the Pentagon had been hit, and there was another missing plane. Fighter planes flew over us at least every 20 minutes. Our entire house was shaking.

No one slept that night.

Margaret got word her brother had gotten out and he was OK.

The next day we tried to go on with life, business, etc., but we were both glued to the TV.

We answered the call for mental health providers to come to either Jersey City or ground zero to help counsel the emergency responders.

We met with organizers in the parking lot on the Sixth Street side of Newport Mall, where large vans waiting were waiting for volunteers. I showed them my certified trauma counselor certificate and they took us to the Datek building.

To my left I could see a makeshift triage asking for nurses as well, so that’s where I went first. People were forming human chains and passing cases of water, men’s pants, shovels and equipment.

Volunteers

Vinny Calabrese, the son of my mentor, Joanne Calabrese, coordinated three lines. All three lines were at the dock to wait for Captain Jack to bring one of the boats back. Captain Jack was someone who owned a charter boat service out of Belmar and Brigantine. He volunteered all of his vessels for many days after the attack. The first line was for emergency responders. Each company would line up together and go with their group. East Orange, Bayonne … no specific order but one company at a time. Firefighters, cops, probation and parole officers went.

The second line was for perishable foods. I cannot tell you how many restaurants, and food chains were there. McDonald’s had people walking around like vendors at a circus or baseball game feeding the volunteers constantly. Outback Steakhouse sent a tractor-trailer full of food.

Supplies came the same way - Baush and Lamb has two tractor-trailers of eye wash out there. The last line was for the supplies, shovels, men’s boots, etc. Army Navy stores were sending their inventory, people. Average people were bringing their clothes down to donate.

Volunteers included nurses on their days off, doctors on their days off, Jason Seahorn-NY Giant-standing right next to me in one of our chains passing cases of water. Gov. McGreevy came and sat with Margaret and I that night.

Throughout the day I counseled so many responders.

When the boat would arrive with the returning companies, the men would come off the boats crying, heads all down, and downhearted. The crowd would immediately burst into applause to say thank you to them, but many of them didn’t want it.

Some of the firefighters said they didn’t want people clapping because they didn’t come back with survivors, felt they didn’t do their jobs. About 3:30 as I was making my way through the sea of volunteers, I bumped head on into my own brother! My brother John was an Iron worker, and was there with all of his co-workers. They were going on the pile. All during the day we had loads of responders and volunteers coming back with their eyes burning, we washed many eyes out that day.

We had one firemen code (heart attack) - he was stabilized and rushed to JCMC. We had one broken arm (Army Core of Engineers), but not one survivor.

The mood grew grim with no survivors coming and the fire continuing to burn. We never thought that fire would die out.

Margaret and I refused to go home because my brother was not back off the pile and I was starting to panic. At 2:30 a.m. I saw his boat coming through the fog on the river, and I knew he was safe. When he got off he was yelling because his eyes were burning.

We quickly triaged him, washed his eyes, took his vitals. Then the rain poured down, and it was as if God was telling the firefighters he knew they were tired and he would do this for them. We drove home and returned for several more days.

I will never forget all that I encountered, all that I saw, all that I experienced, nor will I forget the brave people who all came together, all races, all creeds to help. Everyone was there as one.

If only this could have lasted. The love we all felt, the kindness showed, the camaraderie experienced was immeasurable. That’s one thing the terrorists gave us and I’m sure they never counted on that response.

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Elaine Caruso

Kresgeville