Posted by Madelaine Vitale and Bridget Murphy (165.247.13.205) on September 19, 2001 at 12:26:14:
Unforgettable experience for rescue teams
September 18, 2001
By MADELAINE VITALE and BRIDGET MURPHY Staff Writer, (609) 272-7218 Staff W
They've been back in New Jersey for three days, but the memories will sting for a lifetime.
New Jersey rescuers are reeling from the sights, smells and sounds of Ground Zero in New
York City, where they went last week to help recover the remains of those who perished in
the worst terrorist act in American history.
Al Juliano, a team leader for Mid-Atlantic Search and Rescue out of Absecon, got a call
Wednesday that his team and the Monmouth/Ocean County, or MONOC, hospital system
ambulances would be going in.
At 9 a.m. Friday about 12 workers from the squads got out of two MONOC ambulances in
front of the Jacob Javitz Center in Midtown Manhattan. They showed identification and got
clearance to meet with two special officers who would ride with them from 34th Street.
The first thing Juliano noticed when he got out of the ambulance was the acrid smell of
burnt plastic, electrical wires and an unknown odor. A firefighter told him later it was the
smell of burning flesh.
By 11:30 a.m., the teams left Midtown traffic behind and headed to the tragic site.
"Soon there wasn't any traffic. Soldiers in full battle gear replaced cops," Juliano said.
"Every block or two we were stopped and our credentials checked again. I couldn't help
wondering if this was to be the America of the future; the one we leave to our kids."
They got to Ground Zero at 11:45 a.m. It was pouring. Rain mixed with thick gray dust to
create treacherous terrain for emergency personnel sifting through the debris of twisted
metal.
Ray Gough, of Lakehurst, Ocean County, is a paramedic for MONOC. He put on a mask
and respirator and went into the site to help the thousands of emergency personnel.
"I saw firefighters carrying out the bodies of their colleagues in body bags, with fire
helmets propped up on their chests," Gough said.
The body bags were orange and black. He said there are other smaller bags being brought
out that just have body parts in them.
Each firefighter's body was brought out by six firefighters who held the body bag in a wire
stretcher.
As they moved through the crowd they would say, "Make way," and you knew that it was
something terrible, Gough said.
"We helped move some debris out of the way for the firemen who were bringing bodies
out," Gough said. "We were able to get into the site itself. It's like a five-story crater."
Gough said he could see the firefighters and rescuers down in "the pit." "It almost looked
like a mountain range."
Other rescue workers brought sounding devices, a microphone on the end of a 6-foot pole.
Some had cameras on the end.
"They were putting that deep into the wreckage to see if they could hear anything," Gough
said.
A boat arrived while they were doing search and rescue, with food, clothing and a box of
dog booties.
"The poor dogs were getting their paws cut up on the sharp metal and glass that was
falling down," Gough said.
The pit
Juliano, 49, of Galloway Township, an investigator in the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office
has seen a lot in 27 years of law enforcement. But nothing prepared him for what he was
about to see.
His eyes welled up with tears as he told the story.
"We turned the corner and the scene hit us like a baseball bat between the eyes," Juliano
said.
Floodlights illuminated the seven-story pile of rubble. Smoke poured from the wreckage.
"I had trouble comprehending that thousands of people were buried under all of this,"
Juliano said.
The sounds of cranes and construction equipment drowned out everything but their
thoughts.
"It looked like a demolition job that got out of hand," Juliano said.
Thousands of ironworkers and firefighters stood atop a debris pile in the pit using torches
to cut through tons of steel girders.
"I could see the pancaked remains of a New York City firetruck," he said. "One of my
teammates told me that there were eight firefighters inside."
At 12:20 p.m. the two rescue teams were directed to the American Express building. They
thought they were going to a command post. It turned out to be a morgue.
Firefighters carried body bags to a white tent where a priest gave the last rites. Technicians
tagged the bags and put them in a tractor-trailer at the back of the building.
Juliano and his crew went inside the American Express building. Firefighters sat on the floor
and ate their lunch amidst thick dust and the constant procession of body bags.
"The firefighters just looked shell-shocked," Juliano said.
By 1 p.m. the rescue teams got disappointing news.
The rains made the site slippery and unstable. Everyone except firefighters, crane and
front-end operators had to get off the piles of debris.
Many rescue workers were injured.
"One firefighter had a broken back," Juliano said.
Feeling helpless
Because of the conditions, the paramedics and EMTs couldn't do their triage work. But
instead of leaving, the crews split up and helped the best they could.
Juliano went over to the collapse site at Building 7 around 2:30 p.m. and helped a
firefighter carry some tools into a building.
He had a "numb, zombie-like expression," Juliano said.
The firefighter was there since the first report of an airplane crash. All of the firefighters
from his station were missing.
"For three days and nights he refused to leave the pit," Juliano said. "He had no tears.
"I feared that Ground Zero had claimed most of his life. ... I think at that moment I felt
more helpless than I ever had in 49 years," Juliano continued. "Throughout the rest of the
day I would see this expression time and time again."
President Bush arrived at 4:30 p.m. Deafening cheers of "USA! USA! USA!" replaced the
somber silence and scattered talk. But after he left the mood returned.
At 6:30 p.m. the two rescue teams left New York City behind, but not the memories. No
one spoke as they walked back to the ambulances.
Juliano said his team would talk about critical-incident stress at the next training session.
But he couldn't imagine the post-traumatic stress disorders New York City firefighters and
other emergency personnel will experience after the site is cleaned up.
"As you walked down the street people would say, 'Save one for me,' " Gough said. "It just
makes you choked up."