9/11 and 9/12: The Days That Shaped Me
On September 11th, 2001, I was a 1st Lieutenant in the U.S. Army. My anti-armor platoon—15 soldiers with six trucks—had been in the field for about 24 hours, evaluating another unit. I was riding with my first section leader when his pager went off. Yes, a pager—this was 24 years ago, before smartphones, when cell service was unreliable and texting barely existed. Jason was waiting for the call that his wife was going into labor. I often loaned him my cell phone to check in. That day, it was his wife who told us something unthinkable was happening.
Moments later, the radio crackled: “Guidons, guidons, guidons. Endex, endex, endex. Return to your units.” Just like that, training was over. We regrouped at battalion and company areas, issued weapons, and briefed on our new mission—protecting Fort Bragg. For days, that was all we did: 24/7 security operations, waiting, watching, prepared for whatever might come next.
The base went on lockdown. Cell phones went dead. Nobody moved without orders. It would be nearly a week before I finally made it home and saw the footage of the towers falling. That day changed me. I realized that at best, I was underprepared for war—and at worst, not prepared at all.
But I’ll never forget September 12th. The day after, everyone—left, right, and center—was pro-America. It was something to see: American flags flying everywhere, neighbors helping each other, people being more watchful, more patient, more tolerant. For a brief moment, we remembered what it meant to live and let live.
Soon after, my focus shifted. The 82nd Airborne was just waiting for a target, and I was prepping for war. But even now, I miss those days when we stood shoulder to shoulder as Americans first—before anything else.