Gary Holm

As far as I know, I was the only North Dakotan in the part of the Pentagon that was hit on 9/11.  Lt. Gen. Jerry Sinn of Minot, who had an office down the hall from me, was away on a trip.  A native of Rugby, I had just moved back to DC from ND the year before.  I was active in ND Democratic-NPL politics from 1966 to 2000.  I was a candidate for ND State Treasurer in 1992, State Labor Commissioner in 1994 and State Auditor in 1996.

My office was in the part of the Pentagon that had been totally refurbished just a few weeks before 9/11.  New desk, computer, everything.  It was my first day back to work after a long weekend.  After a couple of hours of work, I heard a commotion in my boss’s office and went in to folk see folks gathered around his TV watching the World Trade Center burn.  I went back to my desk and a short while later heard folks exclaiming that the second tower had been hit and that it was probably a terrorist attack.  Someone said maybe the Pentagon would be attacked, but, that was discounted when someone else said it’s the safest building in the world especially now that our part had been rebuilt to withstand any bomb attack.

I went back to my desk and a few minutes later the building shook and there was a “kaboom” followed by people screaming.  In shock, I got up and headed for the door.  My co-workers yelled at me to come the other way.  The direction I was heading was toward the impact area where the fireball came through. They were trying to get an emergency door open so we could get out.  We made our way outside the building to see billows of thick, black smoke.  We then went out into the parking lot and into what was a surreal scene as we watched the Pentagon burn.  It was almost eerily quiet except for people talking and yelling.  No sirens.  We wondered if someone had called the fire department!  Although fire trucks and emergency vehicles soon came with sirens blaring, it seemed to take a long time.  Then the rumors started to fly as we were standing around.  There had been a car bomb at the State Department, the airport had been hit, and another plane was heading in to attack the White House or Capitol.  Nobody’s cell phone worked.  Then people thought we were targets out in the open in the parking lot.  Seeing a plane in the sky people became scared and apprehensive.  We were told to just get out of the area.

I made my way away from the Pentagon, as most everyone did, on foot.  Looking back from time to time I saw the smoke continue to engulf the sky around the Pentagon.  At that time the streets had become parking lots.  I walked past the airport and ran into passengers that had been on planes that had landed en route to different destinations and were told to get out.  They didn’t know where they were or what to do.  Women had taken off their high heels and were walking on their nylons.  It was like we were refugees or in a disaster movie.  Everyone was eager for news as to what was going on.  I didn’t know.  No one did.  I walked six or seven miles to where I had parked my Jeep at a subway station and slowly made my way home the rest of the way.

When I finally got home some five hours later, my wife did not know what had happened to me.  Someone had left a short message saying I was OK, but, she didn’t know what that meant because she hadn’t been watching TV.  When she started getting calls from ND friends and family she found out what had happened and turned on the TV.  My wife and I along with all America, in the aftermath, were then glued to the TV.

The next day I started getting calls from Pentagon officials trying to account for everyone.  I found out that my office had been destroyed primarily from smoke and water damage from fire on the roof above us.  And, I learned that my good friend and co-worker, Col. Dave Scales, had been killed.   The Pentagon became a fortress with combat vehicles and soldiers all around it.  A couple weeks later I went back to work when my office was reconstituted in nearby Alexandria.  All our files and records were no more.  All the “hot” projects I was working on gone.

For several years after 9/11 my body would instinctively “jump” when I heard loud noises.  For months after 9/11 fighter jets flew over our neighborhood reminding us of the terrorist threat.

I was selected as Budget Chief for the Army Reserve shortly after 9/11 where I remained through the ensuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq until retiring in 2007.

Edward Whited, California, USA

My wife, Margaret, and I were living in Saudi Arabia, where I was working for the Saudi Aramco Company.  The company has several compounds dedicated to housing expatriate workers.  We lived in the Ras Tanura Camp, which is located about 60 kilometers north of the main camp “Dhahran.”   Once a week I would take my wife into Al-Khobar to the shops and the Tamimi Grocery store (the only modern grocery store in eastern Saudi Arabia). For us, it was evening as compared to being morning in New York (seven or eight hours difference from N.Y.)  Our routine was usual: shop, have dinner, walk the streets for fun, then drive back home to Ras Tanura.  To get started and save time in our shopping, I generally would drop Margaret off first at the market, then proceed on to the local aquarium supply store, where I could buy special food for my fish. As I drove up to the aquarium shop, the radio (Armed Forces Network) announced the news about the first tower being hit. “Probably an accident,” I figured, and went into the store.  A few minutes later the shop turned into a state of panic. All expatriates in the area were exiting to their cars. One guy stated, “Did you hear about the WTC being hit?”

“Yea…,”   I replied.

“Well the other tower just got HIT.”

I ran to my car and headed to the Tamimi to get my wife. It was well after dark by then. I could hear celebration gun shots in the area and see bullet tracers zipping up into the sky.  My first thought was, We are in the lion’s den and need to get to the closest safe- house, (Dharan Camp,) asap. As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Margaret standing by the curb with a cart of groceries.  She had a look of panic on her face. As I pulled up close to her, she quickly yanked open the back door and threw the sacks into the back seat, screaming “Let’s get out of here!”

While in the store several Saudi men who recognized her as an Aramco expatriate circled her.  They told her she was safe there, which only added to her feeling of panic. Due to the rush of all the exiting cars, we were moving at a snail’s pace trying to get to the main street out of town.  Traffic heading towards Dhahran camp was slow. We rolled up the windows and got into the middle traffic lanes for security. Again, we heard celebration gun fire. The line of traffic getting through the gate into Aramco camp was long and seemed tedious.

At the entrance there were two armored personnel  carriers with heavy machine guns parked in proximity of the gate. Aramco and the King of Saudi Arabia were determined to insure the safety of the expatriate workers.  After we got in, we went to the camp cafeteria to get coffee/soda and wait a couple hours before we would make the trip to our home at Aramco Ras Tanura Camp.   It was a long 60 kilometers trip across hostile territory and we were nervous about driving through it.  Around eleven p.m., Saudi ime,  activity seemed to slow down.  I decided to make the attempt to get us home.

As we exited out the North gate we were stopped by the security guards. We were told we had to wait for the next convoy to go out. This meant we were going under armed escort from Dhahran to Ras Tanura. There were two security cars and a military vehicle leading five cars with the same number of vehicles bringing up the rear. We were escorted the entire distance into Ras Tanura.  During the trip, off into the distance we could see tracer bullets flying through the sky.   I figured we were a safe distance from the party people.

After getting through the security check points and the Ras Tanura gates, we were safe, for sure. Finally in the safety and comfort of our home, I poured myself a strong (illegal and homemade) alcoholic drink,  turned on our satellite T.V.,  and watched the news unfold until the sun came up.

Despite the events going on in the U.S., I put in my usual 10-hour day of work without being even slightly tired.  It had been impossible to sleep and I had been too wound up and worried to move away from the T.V.  The official company communications announced the news adding this statement: “Anyone celebrating or making derogatory remarks will be arrested, and will be a great disgrace to their families,” meaning, Any Saudi who is out of line will be arrested.

Over the next few months there were a few car bombings in Khobar and Dammam. One expat compound was invaded where several were killed and injured. I remembered that a couple years before,  the Dhahran Towers were blown up (next door to Dhahran camp) killing a number of civilian and military personnel. A few weeks later, I lost a friend in Yanbu,  Saudi Arabia, to a wild crowd of disgruntled Saudis. The country went into a type of police state exceeded only by Afganistan.

After 10 years things have calmed down considerably.  But, there is still some stress between Saudis and expatriate workers living in the country.   My wife passed away in 2006.  I continued to live and work in Saudi Arabia until 2009, when I retired and moved back to the U.S.  I have wonderful memories of my life living, working,  and traveling in that area of the world, but as September 11^th approaches every year, I am swamped with memories of  what it was like for an American living in the part of the world where some people were,  and continue to be,  determined to destroy my home country.

Laura Nye – works in Moorhead, MN

I often think about the events of that Tuesday morning in September: where I was and the movie in Spanish class we were watching. I was in 11^th grade at Jefferson High school in Bloomington, MN; it was first period and we were watching a movie on Mexican-American outlaw Gregorio Cortez. For most of us, we were falling asleep because of the early hour and the dark classroom.

Then static came on over the intercom, and our Principal somberly announced there was an attack in New York; Senorita Penewski turned off the movie and turned to CNN.  When we saw it was the World Trade Centers, one of my classmates left the room in tears. It turns out her dad was in one of the buildings, but he made it out safely. As the hours progressed and as I went to chemistry class, we learned about the attack on the Pentagon and the crash in Shanksville, PA. It was the crash in PA that I think I will feel a connection to forever.

Thomas Burnett, Jr. was a Bloomington native, a standout quarterback on the football team, and a 1981 Jefferson graduate. He was a legacy, holding all sorts of HS records, 20 years after he left. Burnett was also a passenger on United Flight 93 and one of the few who did something to fight back against the hijackers. While I never knew him personally, I always felt a connection to his family since I grew up playing soccer with his niece, and her mom (Burnett’s sister) was always the one who cheered the loudest, brought the best post-game snacks, and coordinated team parties.

During a home football game the following week, Burnett’s jersey (No. 11) was retired and his parents were honored during the half-time show; it seemed everyone from the Bloomington community, regardless of High school rival, was in attendance. There wasn’t a dry eye in the stands. Mr. and Mrs. Burnett attended football games regularly before and after their son died. Of course they were anonymous fans cheering on a victory for the Jaguars before Sept. 11, but after the attacks I wondered if they were there to hold onto an old memory.

What I will remember the most about September 11, 2001, and days that followed, is how quickly my perception of the world changed. Not only for our “new normal” of terroristic threats and war, but how our country rallied together as a community to persevere and “fight back.”

David Buchanan

Fargo

The 9/11 attack is the first truly major event that I learned about on the internet. I had gone to work (for my job as a Professor at Oklahoma State University) earlier than normal that morning because I needed to make a report at a meeting that started at 7:30 AM. My report was brief so I arrived in my office by about 7:45. I remembered that I had promised myself to send a note to OSU’s newly elected Chair of the General Faculty. I wanted to let him know that I would be praying for him. I had held that same position a few years earlier so I understood the challenges he was facing. The new Chair was known around campus as a person who was not particularly interested in expressions of faith. This did not deter me from expressing my faith around him and the reminder of the fact that I would be praying for him would not surprise him. After I sent the note via email, I turned to the internet to check on the morning’s news. A plane had struck the World Trade Center but the report did not indicate the type of plane. Of course, as the minutes went by, a second plane struck and we knew that the situation was not accidental. Later in the day, the new Chair called. He had heard about the attack on his car radio while driving to work and realized that one of the planes was for a flight upon which his daughter frequently served as a flight attendant. By the time he arrived at the office, his daughter had called the staff to deliver the message that she was not flying that day. He wanted me to know that he appreciated the prayers.

Jessica Lura – Fargo, ND

I was a fresh-out-of-college graduate who had just moved from Fargo to California to take my first teaching job.  Living on my own in a brand new place was a great adventure!

I woke up the morning of 9-11 to pour myself a bowl of raisin bran and park on my couch to watch a bit of The Today Show before getting ready for work–just a normal day.  The 3 hour time difference meant that when I turned on the TV, I didn’t see the normal Matt and Katie routine, but instead, a smokey plume rapidly rising from one of the Twin Towers.  I remember thinking…”Huh! A plane hit the World Trade Center??? Weird.”  As I was watching, the media was still trying to predict just what had happened…an accident? a hijacking?

As I watched, another plane flew in, seemingly in the background of the smokey scene. I thought to myself, “Ironic, It almost looks like that one is going to hit, too.” Not so ironic, and definitely NOT in the background.

It was at that moment that the whole country realized we were under attack, and because of the time change and a morning routine, I watched it happen live.  It should have been a regular morning, eating breakfast on the couch of my 1-bedroom apartment–my first home away from home!  Instead, it was the morning that changed all of our lives.  All of a sudden, being on my own, 2,000 miles away from my family, seemed way too far away.

Going to work an hour later was hard to say the least.  We were told not to talk about it around the 700 children that we served at our school.  Answers to questions in my 2nd grade classroom should be generic at best.  Be brave for the kids as not to make them worry.

Our “normal” routine was to say the pledge first thing–on the playground–all 700 of us together.  That morning, it took on a whole new meaning as the adults stood there, hands on our hearts, tears on our cheeks and a pounding in our chests, wondering…”what now???”

10 years later, and I’m back in Fargo.  This year on September 11th, we’ll be celebrating our youngest’s 2nd birthday.  September 11th has taken on a new “normal” for our family.   We’ll still be remembering those who lost their lives–but now we also celebrate the fact that, one year on September 11th, our family welcomed a new one.

Even though I was only three years old I remember my dad coming into my room and telling me (and my mom) to go downstairs and watch the TV. And I was just in time to see the second plane hit the twin towers. At the time I didn’t know what was happening, I think I thought I was just watching a movie. It wasn’t until later that I knew it was real.

A Note for My Children: Dear Boys, On Sept. 11, 2001, we went to bed in one world and woke up in another. The images on television were horrifying, and the hours, months and days after the terror attacks were full of uncertainty. I thank God that you were too little to understand, yet I feel it is important for you to know the events of that day and how it changed our world forever. Adam was eight days old and it was hard to watch the images displayed on the television and then look down at the innocent life in my arms. I got a call from Auntie Trish and she commanded us to turn on the television. She said, “We’re being attacked.” At first I thought she was kidding, and then she said, “They think by terrorists.” Grandma was visiting, I went to teach, Dad stayed at work, and we tried to return to a normal life, knowing nothing would be the same again.

Jennifer, Fisher, Minn.

Patty Olsen, Grand Forks, N.D.

On 9/11, I was in Virginia with my 8-month-old son. We had surprised my mother for her 75th birthday a few days earlier, and we were prepared to fly home to North Dakota that afternoon from Dulles Airport in Washington. Obviously, we did not. So many memories — horror, sadness, shock. People all over Northern Virginia were lining up by the hundreds to give blood. The skies were crystal clear and as blue as can be — and very quiet, something so rare in the D.C. area. On Friday, I finally rented a car and made a two-day drive with my baby to Chicago, where my husband met me to make the rest of the trip to North Dakota. I had gone 10 days without seeing our 3 year old. But I got to come home. So many mothers did not.

Melody Olstad, East Grand Forks, Minn

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was on partial bed rest while pregnant with my twin daughters and only working at my teaching job in the afternoons. I was watching TV when the station cut to live news. A reporter was trying to make sense of what was going on and commentators were debating if this was an accident or on purpose. Not long after that, I watched the second plane crash into the second tower. My first thought was, “This is definitely not an accident….I think we’re in trouble”. Immediately, I called my mother. I felt that I needed to know where all my loved ones were and that they were safe. When I got to work in the afternoon, my third-grade students had already heard bits and pieces of what had happened. In the days following the tragedy, we spent a lot of time reassuring students that they were safe. In the years following Sept. 11, I think I take emergency drills at school and elsewhere much more seriously. I am more aware of my surroundings when I am in public. I haven’t traveled out of the country since that time. We, as Americans, no longer feel isolated from terror, and we are well aware that it could happen and has happened here. But this is still the best place on Earth to live.

Faye Miller, Inkster, N.D.

I was teaching at Fordville-Lankin School in the morning and Midway School in the afternoon. The teacher across the hall got a message from her son and turned on her computer and called me over to her room. We saw the second plane hit the towers. There was mass confusion on the TV as the announcers weren’t sure what was happening. I went to my afternoon school and they announced that the girls basketball game for the evening was postponed. We went home not sure what this would mean for me and my students as we are close to Grand Forks Air Force Base. I had a few students with parents in the military, and they were very concerned. The next few days were very serious in our studies in both schools.

Al Nohner, Bemidji, Minn

I was teaching an 8 a.m. Mass Media in Society class with 100 students at Bemidji State University when my wife, who also worked at BSU, came to the door of the classroom and informed us of the attacks. 9/11 then became a real-life teaching moment for Mass Media in Society. After adjourning class, students went their different ways across town or campus. When they returned for the next session, we had an hour-long discussion of how and where the instant coverage affected their lives: what did they do immediately after class; where they went to get the news; which media did they trust most; who did they believe; how did they let media guide their information and feelings; when and why were they confused, angry or sad. The most interesting comment came from a student who drove straight home and went back to bed, figuring the interruption by my wife was an event created by the teacher to make his classmates “think media” for the rest of the day. Only later in the afternoon did he discover that the contriving part was incorrect and fully comprehend there was no way to avoid media that carried news instantly, constantly and sometimes accurately to a society with an emerging appetite for information. To see its effects, simply look at how many different ways people communicate now than they did 10 years ago; how they can instantly access information 24/7 today; how they demand news as it happens; and how people allow video, stills, or live reports to shape their emotions during breaking events.

Joanie Kramer, Bejou, Minn.

That morning, my mother and I were shopping in Fertile. The store we were in had the TV turned on. Soon everyone was aghast as to what they were viewing on the TV. Mother and I also watched. I remember saying, “I knew it was going to happen sooner or later.” The rest of the day was spent watching the TV and listening to the reports as they came in. Shock would be the word to describe how I felt that day.

Holly Jessen, Grand Forks, N.D.

I always think it’s so interesting that everybody always remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing during the Sept. 11 attacks. What other event in our history has had that sort of impact? In my lifetime of 35 years, perhaps only the Oklahoma City bombing? In the generation before me, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and President Kennedy? On Sept. 11, 2001, I was on my way to work in Savage, Minn., where I worked as a reporter for a weekly newspaper. As I started hearing the news on the radio, my first thought was that it was some sort of dramatic production — it couldn’t be real. I was thinking of what happened Oct. 30, 1938, when people panicked after hearing news reports that Martians had attacked Earth, not realizing it was simply an adaptation of the book “War of the Worlds.” Even after I knew, deep down, that terrorists had really attacked the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, I held on to that thought, wishing it was just a made-up story. I remember stopping at a private elementary school, where part of my job was to deliver a stack of papers once a week, and sitting in the parking lot listening to the radio — even though I was already running late for work. When I arrived at the office, I had so much to do to prepare for our weekly deadline, I couldn’t afford to think about the attack. I continued as usual, calling sources and writing stories about banal topics. One of my interviews was about a program called Sandcastles, which helps children deal with divorce. The lady I was interviewing asked me how I could continue on with life as usual, considering what was happening. I don’t have time to slow down, I told her. That night, I stayed late and attended a prayer vigil organized at a local church. Although it was a place for attendees to cry, pray and deal with their feelings about what had happened that day, I was there to work — to take photos and to write a story for the newspaper. I didn’t really get to deal with my own emotions about 9-11 until later — at the time it happened I dealt with it through the lens of a harried cub reporter, not an individual American citizen. If I could do it over again, I would stop and take some time to listen to the radio or watch TV with others, if even for an hour, to think about my own feelings rather than just turning it into another distraction in a busy day, meaning an additional story to my already full list.

Clay Johnson, Bottineau, N.D.

On 9/11, I was an aloof junior in high school, sitting in a U.S. history class. The class was taught by one of the wisest, longest tenured teachers in the school system. My father even had him. He was about as serious as you can get, but one of the finest educators there were. He happened to have the TV on as the media picked up coverage. His presence alone was enough to tell you to pay attention. As we all saw the second plane soaring across the TV and smashing in to the second building in real time, Mr. Goffe said, “You will remember this day as long as you live.” Simple words matched with a booming and serious tone. He was right. What I find interesting, however, is that as time passes, the events on that fateful day grow stronger and gain much more significance in my head. Being 16, I thought, yeah, this is a pretty big deal. I would then continue on with my daily life of sports, girls and passing exams. Now that I’m 26, the thought process has now changed significantly. I get sick to my stomach thinking about the historical impact of these terrible actions. Now, as a history teacher myself (thanks Mr. Goffe), I can only do one thing: teach about 9/11 and its historical impact on our country and the world. Hopefully, I can pass on some information or meaning of this national tragedy to an impressionable mind, like I once was.

Howard Smith, Grand Forks, N.D.

I will preface this by telling you I retired from United Airlines Dec. 31, 2002, with 36 years, 7 months, 29 days. I was a cargo operations planner (COP)  in LAX (Los Angeles), and it was my first day back to work that Tuesday, 11 September. I worked in the planning center and watched two airplanes slam into the twin towers on three flat screen TVs that United had recently purchased.

Kelly Smith, Grand Forks, N.D.

I remember being 9 months pregnant with my daughter. Sitting on the side of my bed as my husband was driving my older daughter to school with my two other babies playing on the floor beside me. All I could think of was, what kind of world will my children grow up in? The feeling of overwhelming patriotism and fear was almost more than i could take. It amazes me now how fast those feelings come back when I reflect on 9/11 or watch TV programs about it. But I watch them anyway to remember.

~Jackie Montreal, Star Prairie WI

I was on my way to work in the Twin Cities from WI. I had just dropped off my 5 month old daughter at the babysitters. I was listening between KDWB and K102 radio stations. I remember Donna Valentine, a DJ at K102 saying that a plane had just flew into the Twin Tower in NYC. I thought I was listening to a remake of “War of The Worlds” you know, the popular HG Wells radio program about aliens invading the earth, the science fiction story. But, this was not science fiction. This was so real.  I stayed all day at work, but couldn’t wait to pick up my baby from the sitter and just hug and hold her tight. Like most other American’s, I still have trouble watching, reading or hearing about that day in 2001. My daugther’s will never know the world before terrorism.

I was born and raised in North Dakota. Attended UND. Kristine Marie Swearson, my younger daughter, worked on the 105th floor of Tower One, for a Kantor-Fitzgerald company, E-speed. She died in that horrible experience. She had just celebrated her 34th birthday one week earlier. She was a princess. A web content manager, she was fluent in French, spending as many weekends in Paris as she could. She and I went for four days once, and had a glorious time. She and I have many friends and relatives in the Towner, N.D., vicinity. My older daughter Kerri, my brother Joe and I were on the first plane into LaGuardia when air travel was finally permitted, flying from the San Jose, Calif., area. We stayed a week, hoping to find that maybe Kristine had survived, to no avail. More than a year later, DNA testing turned up a 5-inch piece of bone identified as Kristine’s. It is interred at a Los Gatos, Calif., funeral chapel. She is survived by her mother, Eileen Townley, sister Kerri, Uncle Joe Swearson and me, her father. Such abject sadness no one should ever experience, although we are certain that our sweetheart is with the angels in heaven. Thanks for letting me post here.

Denelle Kautz, Grand Forks, N.D.

I was working at Valley Memorial nursing home getting residents up for the morning. I saw this new on TV. I kept watching this and thinking, is this for real? I was pregnant with my first child.