Brain-Mind.com


9-11: September 11, 2001, America Attacked

Edited by Rhawn Joseph, Ph.D.

The Hijacking of
American Airlines Flight 11 & Flight 77
United Airlines Flight 175 & Flight 93

**********

"Steal girders groaned and giant slabs of broken concrete threatened to topple on top of us at any moment. Everywhere, body parts, a leg, an arm, bodies that had been so badly burned it was impossible to tell they were human. And still, there seemed to be people alive, buried beneath the rubble, broken and trapped and unable to get away from the searing heat and the fires."

"People were screaming. The air was hot and thick with dust...slivers of glass were still falling like daggers from the sky... twisted steel girders lay strewn among the ground, chunks of concrete lay helter-skelter among the ruins. Fires burned all around us...and victims, trapped beneath the rubble, were dialing 911 on their cell phones, desperately clinging to life and crying, begging for help."

"We tried to get to them but we were helpless... there was simply no way anyone could fight through the searing heat to reach those calling for help. The searing heat... the fires... everything was red hot... it must have been over 2,000 degrees. There was nothing we could do," cried one rescuer. "They were screaming, crying... but there was nothing we could do."

********

********

American Airlines Flight 11

The terrorists had been well trained. To overcome the disadvantage of racial profiling and the possibility of drawing attention to themselves, they had been taught to think only pleasant thoughts, to visualize pleasant memories...the face of a loved one, a sexual encounter...

No one standing in line to board American Airlines Flight 11 probably paid the men much attention. The possibility of a hijacking might not have occurred to anyone. Whatever fears, anxieties or apprehensions experienced by the passengers or crew would have probably have been limited to the uncertainties associated with takeoffs and landings. This is when most airline accidents occur.

American Airlines Flight 11, scheduled to leave Boston's Logan Airport, en route for Los Angeles, at 7:58 A.M. began much the same as the thousands of other departures at Boston's Logan Airport. If anyone had suggested that knife welding hijackers would crash the plane into the World Trade Center, it would have been treated as a perverse and absurd joke.

There were 81 passengers on board. Five of them, including Mohamed Atta, knew that what would happen next would be no joke. The terrorists took up their positions and like crouching tigers, waited for the right moment to leap upon and disarm their prey.

They had rehearsed the operation a hundred times until the well-choreographed routine became second nature. Three of the men would brandish makeshift knives created from shaving supplies and razor blades. The female flight attendants would be threatened and forced to the back of the plane. Once the pilots opened to the cockpit door to intervene, the hijackers would rush in, take control, and switch off the alarms that would alert ground control that something was amiss.

The pilots, whose training emphasized that hijackings should not be resisted, would be tied up with nylon rope. This would insure they could not fight back when the terrorists began stabbing them to death.

Atta had booked his reservation two weeks in advance, paying for a one-way First Class, Business Section ticket on American Airlines Flight 11. The jet was a Boeing 767 _ a plane Atta had been trained to fly and maneuver. Atta was assigned to seat 8D, just a few short steps from the cockpit.

One of Atta's bags somehow missed the flight. Later, when the FBI opened and examined the contents of this bag, they found airline uniforms, a video on commercial aircraft, and a suicide note dated 1996--indicating that the attack had been planned five years earlier.

Atta had also paid for the ticket of Abdulaziz Alomari, who traveled on the same flight. Alomari was assigned to seat 3C. Alomari, and three others had their role in the mission. They would kill a stewardess as a diversion, and, if necessary, the pilots.

The jet departed from Boston at 7:58 a.m. It was right on time. Forty seven minutes later, it would crash into a tower of New York's World Trade Center.

Abdul Alomari waited for the signal. There were 8 flight attendants on board. If he wanted, he could have read their ID tags and committed their names to memory. There was Barbara Arestegui, Jeffrey Collman, Sara Low, Karen Martin, Kathleen Nicosia, Betty Ong, Jean Roger, Dianne Snyder, and Madeline Sweeney. But it was the pilots he was most concerned about.

John Ogonowski was the pilot. Tom McGuinness, the co-pilot, was his second in command.

Everyone liked John. He had just celebrated his 52 birthday with his wife and three daughters, Laura, 16; Caroline, 14; and Mary Catherine, 11. He was also a farmer who loved to work the land. His dreamed of retiring on his 150-acre property.

There were also a few "celebrities" on board, including David Angell the executive producer of NBC's hit television show "Frasier." He had also written episodes for shows such as "Wings" and "Cheers," and had won six Emmy Awards for his television work. Atta, who would soon hijack the plane, sat across from him.

David and his wife, Lynn, were flying back to their home in Pasadena. They were returning from their summer home in Chatham, Massachusetts. where they had just celebrated the wedding of a family member.

There was also an actress on the flight, Berry Berenson. She had appeared in a number of movies including ''Cat People,'' ''Winter Kills'' and ''Remember My Name.'' She was the widow of actor Anthony Perkins who achieved fame as the serial killer "Norman Bates" in Alfred Hitchcocks' "Psycho."

A billionaire was also on board American Airlines Flight 11. Daniel C. Lewin, 31, who attended graduate school at MIT, was co-founder of Akamai Technologies. Lewin became an instant billionaire during the firm’s October 1999 initial public offering, when Akamai made an impressive Wall Street debut.

Carolyn Beug and her mother Mary Alice Wahlstrom were seated together. Carolyn was a noted Santa Monica filmmaker and music video producer and had won an award for her work on the 'Van Halen video "Right Now." She also loved to write, and had been working on a children's book detailing the story of Noah's Ark, told from the point of view of Noah's wife.

Carolyn was also a "cheerleader" for the girls track team at Santa Monica High School. Her twin daughters, Lauren and Lindsey Mayer-Beug, 18, had been the team's captains. Carolyn would have done anything for her daughters, including escorting them to college, where they were starting their first year at Rhode Island School of Design. Mission accomplished, Carolyn and her own mother, were headed to home sweet home.

Laurie Naneira, 49, had hoped to take this flight with her daughter, Francisca, 31. It was a discounted plane ticket which made all the difference between life and death. Because her husband, Gil, was a technician for American Airlines, Laurie had a deeply discounted ticket on Flight 11. Francisca, whose husband worked for Delta, held a discount ticket on a Delta flight. They boarded separate flights to Los Angeles which departed a few minutes apart. They had planned to meet five hours later. Instead, 45 minutes later, Francisca's plane would be diverted to Cleveland, where she would learn that her mother's plane had crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

Laurie Naneira, Carolyn, David and Lynn Angell, Berry Berenson, Daniel Lewin, and the other passengers, including Sonia Morales Puopolo, a former ballet dancer, and Peter Gay, Vice President and General Manager of Raytheon, settled in for what they expected would be a routine flight.

These passengers never knew it would be their last.

Flight 11 took off at 7:59 a.m. and began traveling along its normal route west. Then, something went wrong.

The big jet had been instructed by air traffic controllers to climb to 31,000 feet. Yet the pilot failed to respond.

"He was cleared to continue his climb, and he did not," said one controller. "I issued instructions again, but he didn't respond. Now I knew there was a problem."

"Again I isued instructions to climb."

There was still no response. Instead, air traffic controllers began receiving desperate messages. American Airlines Flight 11 had been hijacked, and an Arab terrorist was in the cockpit threatening the pilot's life.

"Don't do anything foolish. You're not going to get hurt," the heavily accented voice said to the pilot.

Unbeknownst to the terrorist, the pilot had repeatedly and intermittently triggered a radio microphone.

According to an unidentified controller in Nashua, N.H., who was handling the flight: "When he pushed the button and the terrorist spoke, we knew. There was this heavily accented voice that was threatening the pilot. He was clearly very threatening." The controller also heard someone in the cockpit tell the pilot, ÒWe have more planes, we have other planes.”

The radio microphone went dead.

The jet was over central New York, 17 miles southwest of Albany, when, according to radar tracking data, it suddenly turned abruptly to the south. It was at that moment, about 30-minutes into the flight, that the jet's transponder was turned off.

The jet began flying erratically, accelerating and then decelerating, slowing and then speeding up from its normal cruising speed. It slowed to cruising speed again as the jet followed the Hudson River into Manhattan.

Within a few minutes it would hit the north tower of the World Trade Center.

As the first of the doomed jets struck the gleaming superstructures, they began to cheer.

A few hours later, the National Security Agency would intercept a cell phone call from the United States to a suspected bin Laden operative in Europe.

It was a four word message: "We hit the targets."

*****

NORTH TOWER

8:48 a.m. American Airlines Flight 11, a Boeing 767 en route from Boston's Logan Airport to Los Angeles International with 92 people onboard, slams into the north tower of the World Trade Center

Fabian Soto arrived early that morning. He had been working as a window washer apprentice for three weeks when he was assigned the job of wiping off the noseprints of tourists from the glasses of the 107th floor observation deck.

Tourists would lean against the glass, entranced by the bird’s eye view of New York City which stretched majestically below them. Greg and Lisa were on their honeymoon. Both had graduated from U.C. Davis in June and were married on September 2. This was their last day in New York; they would return to California that evening.

Riding to the top of the World Trade Center was a spur of the moment idea. The

observation deck boasted the best view of New York City. Young and in love, the future seemed as bright and inspiring as that New York morning. Greg and Lisa had just begun their lives together. They never thought it would be the end of their world.

Roko Camaj had been washing the windows of the World Trade Center ever since it opened in 1973. For nearly 20 years he had been doing what now came naturally: setting up the rigging for the scrubbing machines that washed the windows.

It was 8:44 A.M. and at this height and this hour, it was fairly quiet on the roof and the observation deck, which was not yet open. Wisps of clouds swirled overhead and there was the breathtaking city skyline and the harbor below. All seemed peaceful.

Some saw it. Others heard it. In the distance, a Boeing 767, coming closer. Then the sound of its engines grew into a roar.

Fabian stopped working and looked down in amazement. Roko, who was on the roof, could only stare.

The jet was way too low. It wasn't flying levelly, but with its right wing crazily tilted skyward and the left wing angled towards the ground. It looked like a giant gleaming blade that was about to slice into the North Tower.

And then it struck. There was a sickening explosion and the building began to rock.

Roko called his wife on his cell phone. He told her what had happened and that there was no way down. He would wait for a helicopter.

Roko, Fabian Soto, Lisa and Greg, and other early morning tourists, would never be seen or heard from again.

***********

Over 400 people were at work that morning at Marsh USA Inc. Marsh was a risk management and insurance firm and occupied the 93rd through 100th floors. Almost everybody heard an unusual sound -- the roaring of a jet engine. Those who looked up and gazed through the windows saw the oddly angled jet headed right towards them.

Marsh USA Inc., has reported that 400 of their workers were missing.

American Airline Flight 11, struck the northwest corner of the 91st floor of the north Tower at precisely 8:55 a.m. The twelve employees of the American Bureau of Shipping, a nonprofit group that promotes safety and property protection at sea, in the airplaneÕs path, were instantly obliterated. They were directly in the airplaneÕs path.

Also killed instantly were the employees in the office above them. The jet's right wing, angled toward the sky, had sliced right through their floor.

As the bulk of the plane's fuselage slammed into the 91st floor, there was a massive explosion which ripped through several of the upper and lower levels. Hundreds of men and women were instantly incinerated. Many of those who escaped the flames fell from the windows to their deaths.

Some fell because they were disoriented by the blast and because they couldn't see where they were going from all the smoke. Some were blown through gaping windows by the force of the blast. Others, hysterical and frantically backing away from the 2000 degree heat, leapt to escape the unbearable temperatures, plummeting to the ground below.

Tom McGinnis was attending a brokerage meeting on the 92nd floor when the jet slammed into the North Tower, One World Trade Center. There was a tremendous explosion, walls collapsed, and the building shook and swayed. Billowing white smoke began to pour into the wrecked offices. He turned towards the windows and could see people falling or jumping from the floors above him.

Tom surveyed the wreckage and realized he would be unable to get out alive. Calmly, he called his wife, Iliana, his high school sweetheart and the mother of 4-year-old daughter Caitlin.

"This doesn't look good," he said. "There's no way out of this room. . . . I love you. Take care of Caitlin."

"Don't hang up," Iliana said. "Don't hang up. You are coming home."

He is among the dead.

Andrew Stern, 41, Wendy Small, 26, Amy O'Doherty, 23, and over a thousand other men and women were all employed by the Cantor Fitzgerald international securities firm which occupied floors 101-105 of the north tower. Wendy was a college graduate and had a 7-year-old son named Tyree. She had been with Cantor Fitzgerald for two years. Andrew was a bond broker who helped coach his son’s Little League team. Amy O'Doherty had just moved to New York and into her very first apartment. Amy had managed to place a call to her mother in the moments after the crash. But she, Wendy, Andrew, and a thousand more of their colleagues, were never heard from again.

Reuben was waiting outside the conference room on the 105 floor of the North tower, talking to his fiance, Maria, on his cell phone, waiting for the others to arrive and for the meeting to begin.

He glanced at his watch. It was 8:45 a.m.

"I've got to go," he was saying, and then there was a deafening explosion. The floor beneath him buckled upward and Reuben was tossed into the air and then against a collapsing wall.

"Bomb!" somebody screamed.

Reuben freed himself from beneath the rubble and crawled, his cell phone in hand. All the windows were shattered. There were shards of glass and debris everywhere. Office memos and documents were swirling through the air and out the broken windows. People were screaming, crying.

Reuben crawled laboriously into the hall and stood up. There was smoke everywhere. It was difficult to breathe. Everything was hot. Terribly hot. He had to get out. The elevator doors opened and several people rushed out, their bodies in flames.

Reuben ran toward the stairwell. In his right hand he still gripped his cell phone As he descended the stairs he hit redial and called his fiance.

"There's been an explosion. A bomb. But I'm O.K." he said.

There were other people in the stairwell. Many were burnt and bloody. But they heading up, not down.

"There's no way down," someone said. "We have to get on the roof and wait for a rescue helicopter."

"I'm going to the roof," Reuben told his fiance: "I've got to go. I love you."

"I love you," she replied.

Maria never saw Reuben again.

George Sleigh had been sitting in his cubicle since 7:30 a.m.

"I heard this unusual sound. A roaring sound," he said. "As I looked up I saw the plane. I thought: 'This guy is really low.' "

"It was coming right at us. A wing flashed past my eyes and for a brief moment I could see the plane's smooth belly. Then the world caved in and I was buried alive in ceiling tiles, bookshelves and technical manuals."

Offices down the hall and on the floors above were obliterated.

"Some of my colleagues dug me out and we all escaped.”

George Sleigh would be one of the "lucky ones."

It was pandemonium and total confusion for the occupants and visitors on the 87th Floor. Bright white smoke was filling the hallways and liquid sparks were snaking along the floor – the jet fuel that had not exploded.

Those who were able to escape from the upper floors quickly filed down the stairwell and then opened the door to the 78th floor, which contained a transfer lobby where one set of elevators and stairs ended and another set of stairs and elevators began. The 78th floor had erupted in a wall of flames.

Some people, in their haste to escape, ran to the elevators. Those who chose what they hoped would be the quickest way down, were never seen again. Many of them went down in a free fall to their deaths, or were engulfed in jet fuel and set aflame.

Arlene Charles and Carmen Griffith were working on the 78th floor that morning. Carmen's husband, Arturo operated the freight elevator in the same building.

It was Arlene's ad Carmen's job to turn on the elevators and to ferry tourists to the famed Windows on the World restaurant, located at the top of the North Tower.

Arlene was standing in the lobby when the jet hit. She was thrown to the floor. Smoke and flamed filled the halls. And then there were the screams.

Carmen Griffith, who had been standing next to the elevator when the jet had hit, was engulfed by burning jet fuel that erupted through the elevator doors. Carmen was on fire, her skin peeling from her body.

The elevators were a burning death trap. There was only one way out. Down the stairs.

*******

Adam, 35, arrived at his office on the 87th floor of at 8.30 am. He and his colleagues were drinking coffee and checking their email when the building lurched violently. It shook as if there had been an earthquake and seemed to sway ten or more feet in each direction. It did not occur to anyone that the building had been struck by a plane.

Parts of the ceiling started to collapse and smoke began billowing in through the gaps. Glancing out the window, Adam saw paper flying everywhere, like a ticker tape parade. The building was still rumbling and shaking. Fearful of being hurt by falling debris, Adam and a colleague ducked beneath a doorway. They were quite sure it had been a bomb. Adam and his colleagues, 13 people in all, thought that the worst was over. The building was standing and they were shaken but alive. Adam stepped into the hall. It will filled with thick white smoke, but it smelled unusual, not like a barbecue, a fireplace, nor even a bonfire.

To his surprise, the phones were still working. Adam called his nanny at home and told her to page his wife and tell her that a bomb had gone off, but they were all fine and on their way out.

The thick smoke was making it harder to breath. It was also getting hotter.

Fire!

Ripping his shirt into several pieces and he soaked them in water and gave 2 pieces to his friends. Wrapping the wet rags around their faces they headed towards he stair well. There were tiny fires and sparks in the halls.

One of his friends hesitated. It would be safer, he said, if they waited for the police or fire department to come and get them. Adam disagreed but his friend decided to stay back.

Adam descended to the 85th floor and then realized that his friend would die if they left him behind. He and an associate climbed back up the two flights. It was a fog of smoke.

Desperately, Adam called his friend’s name over and over. They checked through the office. There was no response.

They couldn't linger any longer, so Adam and his coworker again descended the stairwell. On the 78th floor, they had to switch to a different stairwell, but as they entered the lobby there was a wall of flames. Someone was fighting a fire with an emergency hose.

Adam stopped and looked around to see if everyone from their office could be accounted for. He saw Harry, his head trader, doing the same. He has known Harry for 14 years.

They all moved gingerly down Stair Case A. The evacuation was slow and orderly, no outward signs of panic. Adam's legs were shaking and his heart seemed to be in his throat. He checked his cell phone. Surprisingly there was a strong signal. He called his parents and told them he was okay, on his way down. He then called his friend Angel in San Francisco. Angel told him to get out fast, that another plane was on its way. Adam had no idea what he was talking about. By now the second plane had hit the south tower, 2 World Trade Center. They were so deep in their own building that they did not hear or feel anything. No one had a clue what was going on.

On the 53rd floor, Adam came across a heavy set man who looked shell shocked and in no position to move. He refused all offers of help and decided to wait for the rescue workers. It was on the 44th floor that we first saw firemen, policemen, WTC K-9 units without dogs, and just about anyone with a badge heading upwards. Adam told them about the man on 53 and his friend on 87. They headed up to find those people and met death instead. He later felt terrible about this.

It was on floor 33 that Adam heard all the information for the first time. A man knew all the details and said that two planes had hit the Towers. There were more coming. Everyone got the picture.

They were almost out the building at floor 3 when the lights went out they heard a rumbling coming toward them from above. It was 10 a.m. Unbeknownst to them, it was the South Tower collapsing next door.

Someone had a flashlight. Adam and the others headed down a dark and cramped corridor to an exit. They could not see at all. Adam said that everyone should place a hand on the shoulder of the person in front and to call out if they hit an obstacle. They reached another stairwell and saw a female officer emerge soaking wet and covered in soot. She said that they could not go that way. It was blocked. There was water everywhere. She stayed back, instructing people what to do. Adam does not know what became of her.

They all emerged into an enormous room. It was light but like the rest of the building, entirely entrenched in smoke. It was the second floor. Everyone was ushered out into the courtyard where the fountain used to be. There was at least five inches of grey, pasty, and dusty drywall soot on the ground, as well as a substantial amount in the air. Twisted steel and wires jutted out everywhere.

Finally they moved out to the street. Oddly enough, there were very few rescue workers around. They all must have been trapped under the debris when Tower 2 fell.

It was just Adam and his friend Kern now. They were almost certain that most of their friends ahead had died and they knew no one who came out behind them

Several blocks away they stopped and looked up. Their office was entirely engulfed in fire. A postal worker said that Tower 2 had collapsed. Adam looked again, and sure enough, it was gone.

Somewhere on the street, they sat down. A girl on a bike offered them some water. Just as she took the lid off her bottle, they heard a rumble. Adam and Kern looked up and their building, Tower 1, collapsed. They had been out for less than 15 minutes.

Adam's phone rang. It was his wife. He fell to his knees crying on hearing her voice. Then she told him the most incredible thing. His partner who stayed back, had called her. He was alive and well. Adam started jumping and shouting.

*****

Many people witnessed people falling from the upper floors of the north tower.

James Braddock had just stepped outside from the Federal Post Office Building across the street from the World Trade Center. "I heard this incredibly loud explosion. By reflex, I ducked down, because it sounded like it was right on top of me. When I glanced up, there was all this debris and stuff, falling from the sky, falling from the Trade Center. The first thing I thought was that a huge bomb must have gone off. Other people were standing on the sidewalk looking up and pointing. I squinted my eyes. I couldn't believe it. There were people falling from the sky. They were either jumping or maybe the force of the explosion threw them out. More and more people started flying out of the top floors: Men in suits, women in dresses...falling, falling."

Candice Porter had just exited a cab across the street from the World Trade Center, when she caught the sound of a jet plane. "I had worked as a stewardess for almost five years so I knew that sound. I also knew that something was wrong. What was it doing flying so low in the middle of Manhattan? I looked up. I didn't see the plane, but I saw the explosion."

"All at once all this paper began to stream toward the ground. Paper everywhere. Suddenly people on the sidewalk began yelling: 'Oh my god! They're jumping! They're jumping out the windows!' Fire was shooting out of the building and people were leaping from the top floors. They were tumbling out, one after another. I saw a man and a woman holding hands as they fell."

"I couldn't understand why they were jumping. Why were they doing that? It made me sick. I had to turn away."

Ruby Lopez exited the Manhattan subway just after the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. "I looked up and could see fire, and smoke, and lots and lots of sheets of papers. So I knew there had been an explosion. I could see fire actually shooting out of the top floors of the building. One side was totally engulfed in flames."

"A woman next to me let out a gasp and grabbed my arm. 'Look!’ she yelled. I looked where she was pointing. People were jumping out of the building. Leaping and falling, one after another -- sometimes two or even three at a time. I think some of them must have been on fire. But the others? It was almost as if one moment they had been sitting at their desk, in a suit and tie, or in a nice skirt or dress, and the next moment they were transported to the outside of the building and were falling from 80 stories up. It was the sickest, weirdest thing I had ever seen."

Firefighter Paul Curran of New York Fire Patrol 3, also saw a lot of people leap from the building. "I don't know how many jumped out, and how many were sucked out. But standard aviation fuel is rated to produce incredible heat: 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit. When those top floors collapsed, they must have formed shaft-like chimneys, allowing a horrific amount of heat to penetrate the upper and lower floors.Ó

"I don't know what it was like up there, but it must have been hell. There were a lot of jumpers. I saw bodies hit the upper level concrete of the second floor overhang of Tower One. Others were falling into West Street."

John Carson, an investment banker couldn't believe his eyes.

"I saw six people fall in the space of 10 minutes. They were somersaulting. People in blue jeans, tennis shoes, falling over themselves, falling."

Jerry Hernandez was watching from the 30th floor of a nearby building. "It was a raging inferno. Angry red flames billowing out of the side of the building. You could see windows on the west side popping out and exploding. There were flames licking both sides of the building. I kept thinking of all those people. There must be 5,000 people in there! How could anybody survive that?”

“Then, I saw the other plane. A midsize commercial jet. It looked like it was going to slam right into the towers. And it did."

Richard Dickernson had just stepped out of the elevator on the 63rd floor of the south tower when Flight 11 struck the north tower. "You could hear it plain as day, a big explosion. I could even smell smoke. Suddenly, even though it was the other tower, everybody started to panic. There was screaming, yelling. People running for the stairwells. It was mass hysteria.Ó

"I didn't see any reason to panic, though I did feel a bit uneasy. I went over to the big window and looked out. The upper floors of the north tower were engulfed in flames. Tongues of flame and smoke were billowing out of the side of the building. As I continued to watch, trying to figure out what happened, I started to see people leaping out of the top floors. I blinked my eyes. I couldn't believe it. I must have seen a dozen people leaping or being sucked out of the building."

“I continued to watch. I was mesmerized. It was surreal, like a bad dream. That's when the second jet hit our building. I immediately ran for the stairwell. I knew I had to get out of there."

******

"I had been sitting in my office on the 54th floor, reading e-mails, when an explosion rocked the building. The building began swaying back and forth, to and fro... I thought it was going to fall into the Hudson River. Somebody said there had been a bomb, and that's what I thought too. I remembered the bombing in 1993. I got up and went to the window and could see what looked like confetti: thousands and thousands of shredded sheets of paper were blowing in the wind and drifting down. It was a blizzard of white paper fluttering past our window and down to the ground. Then I saw something bigger and darker quickly drop past the window. I thought maybe it was a high backed executive's chair. But then the guy next to me said: 'did you see that? That was a body. A man's body!'

We decided to get out of there and rushed into the corridor and then into the emergency staircase. It was smoky inside and it smelled like gasoline or diesel fuel. There were other people coming down the stairs. Some were badly burnt: no hair, no eyebrows, their clothes singed and smoking. There was a woman whose face was bloody. Her clothes were in rags. Her skin looked red and angry. She had been badly burned. We let her and some of the others who were hurt go ahead of us so they could get help and descend more rapidly.

As we got to about the 40th floor, it was no longer smoky and the smell was gone, but it was slow going. We had to form a single line and go down single file. Firemen were coming up in the other direction.

The firemen were from Ladder 7. They had been out on another call but immediately headed to the World Trade Center when the call came in at around 9:10 a.m.

‘You're going to be all right,’ one of the firemen said.

That's when I heard the second explosion. Again I could feel the building sway. I thought it was going to collapse at any moment.

Yet, everybody stayed calm. Everyone was in control of themselves. Maybe it was because of the firemen. Here we were trying to get down to save our lives, and these guys were heading up in order to save the lives of those who could not save themselves.

I almost felt ashamed. These guys are heroes! These guys are supermen. There was no way you could get me to go back up, but these guys...these guys were so brave!

And then I thought: They're all going to die. Every one of these guys. These firemen. They are all going to die, and they know it.

It made me feel sick

The noxious, toxic smells disappeared as we got closer to the ground, but as I stepped out into the plaza, I was shocked. Everything was topsy-turvy. Table and chairs were overturned. The windows and doors were all blown out. The overhead sprinklers had gone off. There was dust and debris and water and broken glass everywhere.

I didn't linger. I wanted to get out.

I stepped outside and froze. There on the ground, I saw a leg, and then an arm, and then, a burnt torso.”

*****

FLIGHT 175

Marwan Al-Shehhi and his brother Waleed were trained pilots. They had received their flight instruction in the United States. Marwan intended to pilot United Airlines Flight 175, a Boeing 767, which was bound from Boston to Los Angeles. There were 65 passengers and nine crew members on board. His brother Waleed was not one of them.

Instead, Marwan would be assisted by Fayez Ahmed, Ahmed Alghamdi, Hamza Alghamdi and Mohald Alshehri, whose jobs were to incapacitate the flight crew so that Al-Shehhi could take over the controls. Together, they crashed Flight 175 into the south Tower of the World Trade Center.

A Boeing 767 is a massive aircraft. The vast majority of Americans could not even conceive of "getting behind the wheel." But Marwan Al-Shehhi had basic flying skills, and three hours of flight simulator training to familiarize himself with the cockpit layout and the location of the navigation systems.

A pilot with such limited experience wouldn't have to know how to work the gears or wing flaps. And as to the rudders, they are controlled automatically by the yaw damper. To fly through the air and to keep the jet airborne, a novice pilot need only know how to work the joystick to climb or bank, and how to adjust the throttles.

Taking off and landing, however, takes considerable skill. Marwan Al-Shehhi had no intention of landing.

Al-Shehhi took his seat, in the first class business section. He kept his eyes trained on the cockpit door. The pilot, Victor Saracini 51, of Lower Makefield Township, Pennsylvania, went through a final systems check with the flight engineer and his copilot, Michael Horrocks. The flight attendants: Amy Jarret, Amy King, Kathryn Laborie, Alfred Marchand, Alamogordo, Michael Tarrou, and Alicia Titus, went about their duties of reassuring nervous passengers while helping others store their bags.

Garnet ''Ace'' Bailey 53, of Lynnfield, Massachusset, and Mark Bavis 31, took adjoining seats and talked about hockey. Ace was director of pro-scouting, for the Los Angeles Kings. This would be his 32nd season as a player or scout in the National Hockey League. Before taking on the role of director of pro-scouting for the Kings, Bailey spent 3 years as an Edmonton Oilers scout. The team won five Stanley Cups during that time.

"Ace" was a highly valued professional, with a keen eye for talent. This would be his second year with the Kings.

This was also Mark's second year as a scout for the Los Angeles Kings. His specialty was recognizing talent in college players. Hockey was in his blood and love of the game ran in the family. His twin brother, Michael, was an assistant coach for Boston University's hockey team.

Heinrich Kimmig, 43, Klaus Bothe, 31, and Wolfgang Menzel, 60, also sat together, speaking quietly together in German. Heinrich Kimmig, was Chairman of BCT Technology AG, Germany. Klaus Bothe was Chief of Development, and Wolfgang Menzel, Senior Personnel Manager. There was a lot of business to discuss onboard the plane, since important meetings were on the horizon.

Lisa Forst, 22, of Rancho Santa Margarita, California was chatting with a fellow passenger. Lisa was happy and excited. After four grueling years as a student, she was finally returning home to California. Pretty, personable, and incredibly smart, Lisa had just graduated No. 1 in her class at Boston University with degrees in communications and business hospitality and marketing. For the last 3 months she had worked at a Boston-based food magazine. Her last day at the magazine was Friday and her colleagues had taken her to breakfast that morning. They kidded her about the possibility of launching a San Francisco edition of the magazine. Lisa laughed and said would she think about it. Despite the slowing economy, she already had a new job in San Francisco.

But first, Lisa needed to make a stopover in the south Orange County town of Rancho Santa Margarita. She wanted to spend time with her family before heading north to her new job. She was young and excited to embark on this new chapter of her life -- being on her own.

vThe hijackers, all men of Middle Eastern descent, took their assigned seats and waited for the signal. Acting in accordance with their training, they reconnoitered and then scanned the faces of their fellow passengers in order to identify and then eliminate, if necessary, anyone who looked as if he or she might try to interfere with their plans.

Alona Abraham may have drawn their attention. Not because she posed a threat, but because she was a Jew who had lived for the last 30 years in the Israeli port town of Ashdot. This was her first visit to the United States. She was excited. She couldn't believe how differently everything seemed compared to her homeland of Israel. Everything was so calm, beautiful and peaceful! The turmoil and turbulence of living under terror had taken its toll on citizens like Alona. She had been thrilled to visit a country that she had only seen and heard about in newspapers and on television.

Alona was also amazed at the diversity of people, originating from countries all over the world. And yet, despite their differences, everyone seemed to get along. People gathered together in restaurants and congregated on the streets, chattering away without worrying about each otherÕs religious or ethnic backgrounds.

It certainly wasn't like this in Israel, a nation guarding against terror and combating fear and racial tensions. The threat of Palestinian suicide bombers and the conflicts between Arab and Jewish citizens of Israeli was also exacerbated by the subtle racism and divisions between the Israeli Jews of Europen descent, the Ashknazim, and the darker skinned Sephardic Jews.

Alona Abraham did not have the physical traits associated with the Ashkenazim, the Sephardic Jews, or the Arabs. Tall, with stunning black eyes and brown hair, she appeared to be "all Indian." Abraham's family were Bombay Jews who emigrated to Israel in the 1950s. By all accounts, she was beautiful. Everyone liked Alona. She was a good woman who radiated warmth and heartfelt generosity. She smiled at the woman sitting next to her and settled in for the long flight.

Alona may have attracted the attention of the hijackers because of her beauty. Touri Bolourchi may have caught their eye because she was Persian, a fellow Arab.

Touri Bolourchi, 69, had been born in Tehran and educated in England. However, right after the Islamic revolution, she moved to the United States with her daughters in 1979.

Touri met her husband, Akbar Bolourchi, when she was head nurse at Women's Hospital in Tehran and he was a practicing physician there. After the Islamic revolution, Akbar moved his internal medicine practice from Tehran to Beverly Hills.

Besides being an accomplished nurse, Touri also spoke six languages: Turkish, English, French, Italian, Arabic and Farsi.

Touri settled into her seat, feeling nervous. She didn't like flying. She was afraid of airplanes. Two of her cousins died in commercial airline crashes in Europe and Africa. This time, however, she had made an exception. She had wanted to spend a few weeks with her daughter, Roya Turan, and two grandsons. But now she was returning home to California. She was anxious to be back with her husband. After all these years they were still deeply in love.

After the Islamic revolution in Iran, all known homosexuals were rounded up and killed. Islam considers homosexuality to be an offense to god, punishable by death.

Daniel Brandhorst and Ronald Gamboa were a family. They lived together in a home perched on the lip of a canyon in the Hollywood Hills. The couple had been together for over 14 years and had a 3-year old son whom they adopted as an infant. They were returning from a vacation in Boston and Cape Cod.

Ronald Gamboa was a joker who always had a glint of mischief in his eye. He had a thousand jokes, including those about homosexuals. With a ready supply of wit, Ronald would sometimes make himself the butt of his own jokes. He truly believed that life was to be enjoyed, and tried to live his to the fullest.

He and Daniel loved to travel. They had trekked all over the world. Whereas Ronald was always ready to laugh and joke, Daniel tended to be more on the serious side. He was a skilled lawyer and accountant, and wanted to become a professor. This dream, he believed, would soon be coming true.

Sue and Peter Hanson waited patiently for the stewardess to fetch them a baby seat, so that two year old Christine Hanson would be safely buckled in for takeoff. They were traveling to California to visit relatives in North Hollywood. This was going to be Sue's first visit to California in four years and she wanted her family to meet Christine, her daughter. Like so many children of Asian immigrant families, it was important for Sue to maintain close family ties. But the entire notion of "family" was something that interested her. She was, in fact, a trained genealogist.

Sue could hardly contain her anticipation. She had spoken with her family by phone the previous night. When they asked if she craved any special food for her visit, she said, "Everything Korean. Everything." Though born in Pasadena, Sue Kim Hanson spent her early childhood in Korea.

John 'Jay' Corcoran was a marine engineer who was planning to set sail out of the Port of Los Angeles on a container ship. Maclovio 'Joe' Lopez Jr., 41, was a burly construction worker. Dorothy A. Dearaujo painted canals, boats, shops and homes in bold and intricate watercolors.

Ruth and Julia McCourt were settling into their seats, unsuspecting victims of fate, irony, and tragedy.

Ruth Clifford McCourt was traveling to Los Angeles with her four year old niece, Juliana. Ruth’s brother, Ron Clifford was employed at the World Trade Center. Her plane slammed into the very tower that he was working in, and escaping from.

By yet another bizarre and tragic coincidence, Ruth's best friend, Paige

Farley-Hackel of Boston, was on American Airlines Flight 11, which barreled into the other tower.

McCourt and Hackel had been best friends for more than a decade. They had traveled the world together. Both stunningly beautiful, the duo turned heads wherever they went. They gave themselves the nickname, "Soul Sisters"

They had both intended on flying together on Flight 175, but they just couldn't get seats on the same plane. Hackel, 46, departed first, on American Airlines Flight 11. Ruth and Juliana boarded United Airlines Flight 175. Ruth and Paige had planned to rendezvous in Los Angeles.

They would never see each other again.

Sue, Peter, and Christina; Ronald and Daniel; Heinrich, Klaus, and Wolfgang; Garnet, Mark, Lisa, Alona, Touri, and the other passengers probably paid little attention to the four Arabic men who intended to hijack their plane and hijack their lives. They may have not paid any attention to these four men at first, but they would all share the same fate.

The five hijackers, having armed themselves with knives, began acting out the roles they had repeatedly learned to play. Marwan Al-Shehhi waited near the cockpit door as Fayez Ahmed, the two Alghamdi borthers, Ahmed and Hamza, and Mohald Alshehri began threatening the stewardesses and then stabbed one of them to death.

A passanger, Peter Hanson called his father in Connecticut:

"Something's wrong with the plane. Oh my God! They've stabbed the air hostess. I think the airplane is being hijacked."

Stabbing one or more of the flight attendants was to be a diversion to lure one of the pilots outside the cockpit, though if necessary, the ill-protected cockpit could be easily stormed.

The door to the cockpit flew open. The pilots were trained to cooperate with hijackers, in the hope of giving the passengers on board, a chance for survival. But the terrorists knew that if their mission succeeded, survival was not negotiable.

The pilots were herded to the back of the plane and killed. With the pilots out of the way, the possibility that the passangers might rebel was greatly diminished. Once the pilots were dead, who would fly the plane?

Marwan Al-Shehhi, perhaps aided by one of his comrades, stepped inside to commandeer the big jet.

It was loaded with 45 tons of jet fuel--more fuel than would ever be needed to fly from Boston to California. The 45 tons of jet fuel alone completely dwarfed the explosive power of the oil bomb that tore off the face of the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City.

In the hands of Marwan Al-Shehhi, this was no longer a jet, but a 200-ton bomb.

There was enough explosive power to bring down one of the towers of the World Trade Center.

Flight 175 made a sudden turn and headed toward Manhattan. ******

Ruth McCourt's brother, Ronald Clifford, had arrived 15 minutes early for a business meeting at the World Trade Center. As he strolled across the lobby, he felt the building shake.

It was 8:45 a.m. American Flight 11, Paige-Hackel’s flight, had just slammed into the North tower.

Eighteen minutes later, at precisely, 9:03 a.m. as Clifford helped a badly burned woman out of the building, he looked up into the sky and saw another plane _ United Flight 175 slam into the south tower. The plane was carrying Ruth and Juliana, his sister and niece.

The upper tower burst into a ball of flames. Ron made a dash for safety. ******

SOUTH TOWER

9:03 a.m. United Airlines Flight 175, also a Boeing 767 en route from Boston to Los Angeles with 65 people onboard, hits the south tower of the World Trade Center.

10:05 a.m. The south tower, also known as 2 World Trade Center, collapses in a plume of ash and debris.

Sydney Tolken had made a special trip that morning to the World Trade Center to meet with a colleague on the 105th floor of the 2 World Trade Center, the south tower. His briefcase was open, papers laid out, and he was discussing his plans when the first jet struck. He heard the explosion. Both he and his colleague rushed to the window. There were flames billowing out from the upper floors, which were entirely engulfed in flames. He called his mother to tell her he was okay. He was in the south tower. The plane crash into the north tower, he believed, was an unfortunate freak accident. Though obviously shaken by what he saw, Sydney figured he was safe. He would finish a few things and then head home.

Sydney never made it home. A few minutes later, the second jet crashed into the south tower.

Gordon Aamoth Jr., an investment banker, was at work on the 104th floor of 2 WTC. He too called home and spoke with his parents after the World Trade Center's north tower had been hit. Gordone, who was very close to his family, liked to visit with them whenever his work with Sandler O'Neill & Partners Investments allowed him to travel to Minneapolis. He told his parents that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. He said he would call them later that day. His parents never heard from him again.

David Berry was also at work that morning in the south tower. David, Executive Vice President and Director of Research for Keefe, Bruyette & Woods, a securities broker, was one of the nation's top banking analysts. The financial news web site,

The Street.com, had named Berry "the best stock picker" for banks. After the first jet hit, he had called a number of friends and colleagues to assure them he was safe. There had even been an announcement: "The building is secure. Everything is under control."

David Berry was still at work when the second jet hit.

On the 96th floor, employees working for Marsh & McLennan were in disbelief over the tragedy that had just struck the north tower. Despite the reassuring announcement, some were in favor of evacuating and going home. Some lingered, trying to decide what to do. A few minutes later, the second jet struck, the lower portion of the plane slicing through the 96th floor.

It was 9:03 a.m.

"I was talking with my boss outside his office on the 93rd floor of the south tower. We were discussing what had happened and what we should do. I wasn't reassured by the announcement. I didn't believe everything was under control. I was in favor of calling it a day and going home. Suddenly the whole building began to sway back and forth and then I heard this tremendous explosion. I thought the whole building was going to topple over and collapse. Suddenly the ceiling began to buckle and smoke and toxic fumes began pouring into the office. It wasnÕt just smoke... the ceiling seemed to be dripping fire. We grabbed wet paper towels and put them over our faces. Everyone began running and screaming and just going crazy. I could think of only one thing. I was going to get the hell out of there. I sprinted past the elevator to the stairwell and literally leaped down the stairs. I could think of only one thing: This building is going to collapse and I’ve got to get out of here."

Brent Woodall was on the 89th floor when the first jetliner crashed into the north tower. He and his wife Tracy, who was five months' pregnant, had recently bought a home in Oradell, New Jersey, about 20 miles from his office at the World Trade Center. Brent was a stock trader for Keefe, Bruyette & Woods. He called his father in southern California to tell him not to worry. He too had heard the reassuring announcement.

"It's no big thing," he assured his father. "It's not my building. I'm safe."

Brent was not easily frightened. He was tough. An athlete. He had played tight end at Berkeley, when Steve Mariucci (current head coach for the San Francisco 49ers) was offensive coordinator. Brent was the kind of guy everyone liked. He was someone you could count on.

Ten minutes later, Brent made a second call, to his wife, Mary and left a message: "The buildingÕs been hit" he said. Everything was in chaos. He was going to find a way out.

Mary never heard from him again.

Monica Iken received a call from her husband, Michael a few minutes after the plane struck. He told her that he and his colleagues had decided to evacuate his brokerage office in the southern tower which was on the 84th floor. A colleague later remembered that he had last seen Michael on the stairwell near the 60th floor. He had been helping someone down the stairs. Michael was never seen again.

Sonya Perez was working as a clerk typist for a temporary agency on the 79th floor that morning. It was her first day on the job when the jet struck the south tower. She immediately called her mother and was still on the phone when the line went dead.

Kirsten Janssen Santiago was also at work on the 79th floor of the south tower. After the second jet slammed into her building, she called her husband Peter, an Amtrak security guard, and then her aunt, Cheryl Davis, to tell them she was fine. The last thing she said was: "I love you." Then, her line went dead.

Brian Clark, a brokerage firm executive, was also at work on the 84th floor. He had been working at his desk when the first jetliner slammed into the north tower. At first, he and the others thought there had been some terrible accident. The idea of a hijacking, a kamikaze suicide, and a terrorist plot to commit mass murder had not occurred to anyone. Why would it? The idea was absurd.

After receiving assurances that it had been nothing more than an accident and that they were not in danger, he and the others went back to work. He heard the same announcement that everything was "under control and secure."

Not everyone was happy at the idea of being forced to stick around. Many hesitated and spoke of going home and taking the rest of the day off. Like Brian, many had experienced the 1993 bombing firsthand.

The announcement, however, had been authoritative. "Everything was under control and secure."

Brian went back to work. "All of a sudden, the building began to rock," Brian said. The building shook and swayed. Ceiling tiles rained down on his head, and now there was smoke and toxic fumes filling the air.

Brian and his coworkers fled for the stairs. Some hesitated before the elevators, but Brian and some of the others warned them it would be death trap.

Brian headed down the stairwell, which was also filling up with smoke. He wondered if there was a fire down below. When he reached the 81st floor, he heard someone crying out for help. Exiting the increasingly smoky stairwells, he followed the cries and discovered and then freed a man buried beneath fallen debris. He helped him to the stairwell, but Òwhen we got there, everybody had disappeared... all the people I was with. All I could think of was that maybe they went back up because they were afraid there were flames down below.”

“I continued down, and by the time I reached the 75th floor, there was water pouring down the stairs, but the smoky, rancid air cleared. The stairway was also filling up with people. It was hot. Stuffy.Ó

“It was taking longer and longer to get down. We would walk down a few steps, and then stop. It reminded me of driving on the freeway in California during rush hour. Cars would be bumper to bumper and then would slow and then just stop. There never seemed to be any reason for it. Now here we were doing the same. Down a few steps and then we would stop. Some of the stops were for three or four minutes. It didn't make any sense."

A couple of men left the stairwell long enough to break into a vending machine. They began passing out Cokes, Pepis, and grape sodas.

Water began pouring down the stairwell. Someone made a joke about how the water from fire hoses and sprinklers was ruining their new shoes.

It took a long time to reach the bottom floor.

"When I finally stepped out into the main floor, and then the street, I saw a police officer who told us to "run...run for it. Now!'"

The sky was falling. It was raining glass and concrete. And bodies.

I began to run but then I stopped and looked back.

There were people leaping from the flaming towers. People in ties and jackets, free-falling backwards with their hands out.

“It was like a nightmare. I couldn't stand it. People were running now, trying to get away, and I started running with them."

Today, Brian calls himself "a very lucky guy."

A few moments later, the south tower collapsed. It was 10:05 a.m.

*******

American Airlines Flight 77

Hani Hajour, Majed Moqed, Nawaq and Salem Alhamzi, and Khalid al-Midhar made up the suicide hijacking team that had first assembled in San Diego and Los Angeles.

They arrived independently in Washington without drawing attention to themselves and then passed through the boarding gate for American Airlines Flight 77 without any problems. They quietly took their seats, strategically assigned in different areas of the plane.

Hani Hajour was to pilot the craft. He took a seat in the first class business section near the cockpit. His assigned target: The Pentagon.

American Airlines Flight 77, a Boeing 757 was now en route from Dulles Airport outside Washington to Los Angeles. There were 58 passengers on board and six crew members including the pilot, Charles Burlingame, David Charlebois, copilot, and Michelle Heidenberger, a flight attendant.

For Barbara Olson, age 45, former federal prosecutor and conservative political commentator, it was supposed to be just another routine flight -- one that she wasn't even originally scheduled to be on. Barbara was married to U.S. Solicitor General Theodore Olson, who argues President Bush's cases before the Supreme Court.

Initially planning to fly out on Monday, Barbara delayed her trip for a day. She wanted to have breakfast with her husband on Tuesday, September 11 -- his birthday.

Barbara was intelligent, talented, and ambitious. She was a chief investigator for the House Government Reform Committee in the mid-1990s and later worked as a lawyer on the staff for Senate Minority Whip Don Nickles. A frequent critic of the Clinton administration, she wrote a highly unflattering work about Hillary Rodham Clinton called Hell to Pay. Sales figures for "Hell to Pay" would rise significantly in the following days.

Barbara also carried a cell phone in her purse. Later during the flight, she would twice call her husband to tell him the plane had been hijacked and to ask for instructions.

However, initially Barbara probably didn't pay any attention to the four Middle Eastern men, such as Hani Hajour, who had seated themselves strategically in different areas of the plane. She had a lot of work to do.

Christopher Newton was also on board. An executive for Work Life Benefits of Cypress, he had recently moved with his wife and children to Arlington, Virginia. He was taking this flight to retrieve his yellow Labrador, who had been left behind until the rest of the family could settle into their new home.

He had a good reason for moving. A dedicated dad, Little League Coach, and Cub Scout Leader, Christopher was always thinking about his family and was worried that he was not spending enough time with them. When his company relocated from California to Virginia, he spent most of his time commuting on airplanes, traveling some 200,000 miles a year to the East Coast. By transplanting his family, he hoped to spend more quality time with his wife and their two children, ages 7 and 10.

Ruben Ornedo, 39, of Eagle Rock, was not even originally scheduled for this flight. He was supposed to leave next week. A satellite communications engineer for Boeing, with a computer engineering degree from UCLA, Ruben had been sent to Washington for an extended business trip. But he missed his wife, who was pregnant.

The Ornedos had just bought a house and had been renovating for the new addition to their family. Given an unexpected two-day lull in his duties, he seized the chance to rush home and see his wife.

Rae Sopper, 35, was intending to start a new life. A natural athlete with a love of teaching, she had just quit her job as a lawyer in a Washington firm in order to become the new women's gymnastics coach at UC Santa Barbara. Years before, she coached gymnastics at the Colorado Gymnastics Institute and at a Junior Olympics Center in Dallas. She coached at the U.S. Naval Academy, where she also served as an attorney with the judge advocate general. It was a chance of a lifetime, the opportunity to pursue her beloved dream. Ten-minutes into her flight, this dream would become a nightmare.

Not all those on board with connections to Saudi Arabia and the Middle East were terrorists. Yeneneh Betru, 35, was a native of Ethiopia who had been raised in Saudi Arabia. Years before, he had come to the United States for his education and to pursue his childhood dream of becoming a physician. Yeneneh earned his medical degree at the University of Michigan. Now that one dream was fulfilled, he was on his way towards fulfilling another. Yeneneh had been in Ethiopia. He had fallen in love, and was thinking about getting married. Now he was flying back to California to share the happy news with his family.

There was also a retired Rear Admiral on Flight 77, Wilson Flagg. An experienced pilot, he had flown F-8 Crusader supersonic jets in Vietnam, and had logged more flying time on that aircraft than any other pilot. He had also flown photo reconnaissance missions after the war.

Always a rising star, Wilson became a rear admiral in 1987. Soon thereafter he was posted at the Pentagon as one of the top officers for the Naval Reserve. In this capacity, he organized the 1991 Tailhook Conference, named after the device that catches planes landing on an aircraft carrier. "Tailhook" however, meant much more than that. These events were notoriously wild affairs, with lots of drinking and sex. The 1991 Conference spawned the infamous Tailhook sexual harassment scandal, where Flagg took the fall and retired.

Wilson and his wife, Darlene Flagg, boarded Flight 77 together, and were returning home after attending the 40th reunion of his academy class in Annapolis. Wilson and Darlene were high school sweethearts. They were married after Wilson graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy. Still deeply in love, the couple split their time between a home in Las Vegas and a cattle ranch in Virginia. Holding hands, they settled in for the long flight home.

For Wilson and Darlene Flagg, as well as for countless others, this trip would be anything but routine. Soon after takeoff, Flight 77 was hijacked. It would crash into the Pentagon at 9:40 a.m.

****

At first the flight continued along its designated route without incident. The jet flew as far as the Ohio-Kentucky border. Then, the terrorists made their move.

It was a chilling and well choreographed operation. Flight attendants were threatened and attacked. The pilots were overpowered. The entire flight crew, along with all of the passengers, were herded to the back of the jet -- as far away from the cockpit as possible.

Air traffic controllers quickly realized something was amiss when the plane suddenly deviated from its usual flight path to Los Angeles, reversing direction and turning east. It roared at full speed, directly toward Washington.

Air traffic controllers became even more alarmed when they realized someone in the cockpit had turned off the jet's transponder. The transponder transmits information about an airplane's identification, direction of flight, speed and altitude. Flight 77 had completely disappeared from the radar screen.

Later, controllers spotted an unidentified aircraft moving at an unusually high speed toward the White House.

Alarm turned to panic when controllers received word about the two jets that had crashed into the World Trade Center. Suddenly what was happening became all too clear.

They immediately telephoned air traffic control at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport near the Pentagon, and then the White House to warn of another terrorist attack. But it was too late.

Barbara Olson reached for her cell phone and called her husband, Solicitor General Theodore Olson.

"Can you believe this ... we are being hijacked," she said. There are at least two hijackers on board, she said, and they were armed with knives and a cardboard cutting knife. Then the line went dead.

Ted Olson immediately contacted authorities at the Justice Department to advise them of the situation. Then, his phone rang again. It was Barbara.

Ted Olson told his wife that the two jets had struck the World Trade Center in New York. She and the flight crew should know that they were in great danger.

"What should I tell the pilot to do?" she asked. Barbara was used to taking charge of the situation.

Suddenly the jet pivoted in a tight circle and looped west toward the Pentagon. It vanished from controllers' screens as it rapidly descended and dropped below the radar.

It was 9:40 a.m.

*****

9:43 a.m.: American Airlines Flight 77, a Boeing 757 en route from Dulles Airport outside Washington to LAX with 58 passengers and six crew members, crashes into the Pentagon. One of the building's five sides collapses.

9:45 a.m: The White House is evacuated ********

At 9:40 a.m. President Bush was in Florida, his motorcade on the road and heading for the Emma E. Booker Elementary School in Sarasota.

Vice President Cheney, ensconced in the White House, was dealing with the immediate matters at hand. He was engrossed in details of this catastrophe, which had struck the financial heart of the nation, when aides and security personnel interrupted.

According to the Vice President, he had been watching television coverage of the first crash when the second plane struck. "Immediately that triggered in my mind, the thought of terrorism." He immediately called President Bush.

A few minutes later, Bush made a statement, describing the attacks on the World Trade Center as acts of apparent terrorism.

Amazingly, the terrorists had already anticipated his next moves.

President Bush immediately set out for the Sarasota-Bradenton airport. His destination: Andrew's Airforce Base outside Washington D.C.

Immediately, Secret Service agents entered Cheney's office.

A Boeing 757, the American Airlines commercial jet believed to have been hijacked by terrorists, was headed directly toward the White House. The jet had entered the "danger zone."

"Sir, we have to leave immediately,' agents told the Vice President. Cheney was quickly escorted and evacuated to the White House basement. He immediately reached for a secure telephone and contacted President Bush. Bush was urged, in no uncertain terms, "to delay his return" to Washington.

"I said, 'Delay your return. We don't know what's going on here, but it looks like we've been targeted.'"

The White House, home to the President of the United States, and symbol of our nation and democracy, had been targeted by the terrorists for total destruction.

But the White House turned out to be tougher to see than the hijackers had anticipated. They were coming in low from the west, and their view of the White House was blocked by the Old Executive Office Building.

Blindsided by the huge old building, and lacking adequate visual aides, American Airlines Flight 77 turned away, circled round, and headed toward the Pentagon.

Many of those at work at the Pentagon that morning, were watching TV in disbelief, mesmerized by the horrific, hellish images of the World Trade CenterÕs demise.

Others were talking on the phones to colleagues, wives, and relatives about the disaster, assuring loved ones that the Pentagon was the "safest, most fortified building on the planet."

Army Lt. Col. Jerry Kitzhaber was busy at his desk when his wife called to tell him about what had occurred in New York City.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He laughed and reassured her. "This is the Pentagon. I should be okay here."

And then....

Boom!!

Commander Robert Edeward Dolan was in the Navy-wing that morning. He was one of the rising stars. At the tender age of 40, he had become commander of the USS John Hancock, whose motto was: "First for Freedom." When off duty he preferred to spend his time with family. He coached his son BeauÕs Little League baseball team. Commander Dolan had just been transferred into the newly renovated offices of the D Ring’s first floor.

At 9:43 am. the D Ring was completely pulverized by Flight 77.

There was a horrific explosion as the aircraft, flying fast and low, barreled into the Pentagon and ripped through the newly renovated walls of the "world's most secure office building."

"We heard a huge blast and then the whole building shook," said Terry Yonkers, an Air Force civilian employee. "There was screaming and pandemonium."

The jet had plowed a crater 100 feet wide that ripped away the walls of all five stories of the building, collapsing the outermost rings that encircle the Pentagon.

The nerve center of the world's preeminent military and the symbol of America's unassailable military might, had been penetrated and ripped apart like a broken egg.

Secondary explosions followed the first nightmarish blast. Black smoke and flames began billowing from the ruined sections of the building. A Klaxon horn began screaming to alert workers to danger.

A hurried but calm exodus of civilian and military personnel ensued. Among them was Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld who immediately began assisting victims of the attack.

Others stood at windows in the inner ring, watching in shock and disbelief as firefighters struggled against the blazes that raged.

The Pentagon had suddenly become the middle of a war zone. Many of the personnel on duty that day felt as if they were living through a modern day Pearl Harbor.

20,000 uniformed and civilian workers had been working on September 11 in the cavernous headquarters of the U.S. armed forces. They were doing their jobs -- attending to the security of the nation and the world. Now, the symbol of the world's mightiest military power lay crippled, naked, and exposed. The jet had smashed a huge gaping hole across all five floors, killing and maiming hundreds of men and women.

Much of the damage had been inflicted on the Navy-wing of the Pentagon. As the conflagration raged, emergency workers began digging a trench in order to separate the bombed-out Navy wing of the building from the adjacent Army offices. This cut the building in two, in order to isolate the still-burning fires and keep them from spreading to other offices of the nation's military headquarters.

For the next two hours, fire officials desperately fought the blazes as rescuers made a frantic search for survivors. It was a tough and stubborn fight. The solid construction and fortifications of the World War II-era building were making the fires extremely difficult and hazardous to combat. Here and there, fuel from the ruined jet had also ignited.

Specialized equipment needed to be brought in. American Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon at 9:43 a.m. As late as 11:30 a.m., firefighters were still spraying water on the burning remains. The fires would not be contained until noon.

Workers immediately attacked the building, searching for survivors, and using heavy cranes and other equipment to keep the damaged offices separated from the Army wing to the north. The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) sent out four teams to assist in the rescue effort.

They were soon joined by Kenneth Foster, who worked anonymously next to rescuers. He was on the scene within minutes after the jet hit. He kept a 44 hour vigil and did not leave until he had been told to go home and get some rest. But he couldn't rest. He and his wife, Sandra, were supposed to attend a training session that afternoon for prospective adopted parents. They were planning to adopt a baby girl.

Hired right out of high school, Sandra Foster had had worked for the Pentagon for almost 25 years. When the plane hit, Sandra Foster was killed instantly.

"Everyone should have a wife like Sandra," Kenneth later said. "She was an angel. An absolute angel."

Carolyn Halmon was also among “the missing”. She had arrived early that morning, courtesy of her husband, Herman. Herman also worked at the Pentagon, but in the evenings. He had volunteered to bring her to work that day, because as he explained later, he loved her so and wanted to squeeze in as many kisses as possible before she went into work. When he got back home, he heard about the crash, and frantically called her office over and over again. She never answered.

A lot of good men and women lost their lives that day, including Johnnie Doctor, Jr., 32, a Navy man and Information Systems Technician, and Commanders William Howard Donovan, Jr. 37, Patrick Dunn, 39, and Scott Powell, whose identical twin brother, Art, also worked at the Pentagon.

Scott and Art Powell were not married to the military, but to life. At one time they called themselves the "Mable's Twinzz" and had formed a music production company, "Dem Twinzz productions." They had been classically trained in music, and together played keyboard, acoustic guitar, and bass. They would incorporate thousands of musical sounds into their own music. Ironically, both had developed a passion for Arabic song, which they played while on a tour together in Sweden and the United Kingdom.

The duo would never perform together again. Over the ensuing days and weeks after the Pentagon catastrophe, friends and family, so long accustomed to being around the two brothers, would call Art, because they missed the sound of Scott's voice.

Army Lt. Col. Kenny Cox, who fought through black smoke to rescue survivors, said, "This is a cheap, dirty, senseless way to attack somebody."

Dogs trained in differentiating between bodies and live victims were airlifted to the scene. Rescuers were also employing sophisticated miniature cameras that could be snaked between the rubble, and acoustic listening devices that could pick up the faintest sound.

Yet no survivors were found.

A Defense Department statement was issued later that day which said no one could have survived the impact and the resulting fire.

The consequences had been catastrophic.

Upon surveying the damage, one service woman said: "If the Pentagon isn't secure, maybe none of us are."

Two hours later, several flatbed trucks carrying almost a hundred metal coffins were parked outside the Pentagon.

Hundreds had died and many were injured. Though some newspapers speculated that over 800 had died, Pentagon spokeswoman Victoria Clarke dismissed a reported estimate of at least 800 dead. "We do not as yet have casualty figures," she explained. "I have no confidence in the 800 number. I have no confidence in any number."

The total dead would not be known for days. Including those who perished on board Flight 77, the final numbers were estimated at 189 missing and presumed dead.

Later that day it was determined that 50 Army and 50 Navy personnel were missing, including Major Wallace Hogan, Jr., who had served with the Green Berets and the Special Forces. Major Hogan had recently been promoted, becoming a General's aide, which is why he was at the Pentagon that morning. A "gung ho" Army man, Hogan often said he would serve until they kicked him out." His only concern about working in the military was his recent promotion. He was worried that the extra hours he would be working as a General's aide, would take him away from his wife.

Angela Houtz, 27, was also unaccounted for. Angela was brilliant. Her instructors remembered her as having one of the best minds they had ever encountered. She was the class salutatorian, and her picture still hangs on the school's wall of fame. Everybody liked and respected Angela. When she said something, people listened. People were still listening, hoping for some sound, some sign, that Angela Houtz had somehow survived.

Peggy Hurt, 36, was also among the missing. She had only worked at the Pentagon for two weeks. And then there was Judith Jones, Lt. Col. Dennis Johnson, Major Steve Long, Lt. Michael Scott Lamana, David Laychak, Robert Hymel, Terrance Lynch, and Brenda Kegler who was so afraid of airplanes falling from the sky, that she refused to fly.

All these individuals, who worked in the “world’s most secure office building” are presumed dead.

If it had not been for the renovation, the number of dead would have been catastrophic. For the loved ones of the unaccounted for, each death was a personal catastrophe.

There were some workers who managed to escape, though they were severely injured and badly burned. Though the total figure of injuries have yet to be determined, the number of civilian casualties and injuries was “extensive.”

David King, Juan Santiago Cruz, Antoinette Sherman, Raquel Kelly, Latisha Hook, Brian Birdwell, Kevin Shaeffer, and Louise Kurtz had all been badly burned. Almost a hundred more had been severely injured and taken to local hospitals.

"The fire was intense," Rear Adm. Craig Quigley, the Pentagon spokesman, told reporters.

Dennis Wang, a doctor at a Washington D.C. hospital, said over 100 feet of human skin would be needed just to help dress the burns of these eight unfortunate souls. He further warned that even if they survived the next 24 hours, that they were at a high risk of infection, organ failure, shock, and death.

Louise Kurtz, 49, of Stafford County had started work as an Army accountant at the Pentagon only two days before. She had been working near the Navy-wing when the jet slammed into the structure, setting adjacent offices on fire as the burning jet fuel snaked from building to building.

Washington Hospital Center officials described her as in critical condition, with severe burns over 70% of her body. Louise was so badly burned, that her husband, Michael Kurtz was unable to recognize her: "I didn't recognize my wife of 31 years... I saw a person who looked like a mummy."

She was in and out of consciousness. According to Kurtz, at first she was almost completely unresponsive, with one exception: she moved her head when he told her he loved her.

*******

Back at the Pentagon, crews continued to desperately search for survivors and to put out the last of the fires. Suddenly, military helicopters began buzzing overhead. An alarm was sounded.

"Another commercial jetliner has been spotted," officials yelled. "It's only 20 miles away and headed right for us."

"Three bogeys are headed towards us. Move!" a woman yelled in a white smock.

Emergency and construction workers, police, civilians, and military personnel, construction workers started fleeing for safety, trying to put as much ground between them and the Pentagon as possible.

"Where are our fighter planes to shoot it down?" people shouted.

It was a false alarm.

Or was it? ******

It was 10:00 a.m.

The President of the United States had reason to believe that there were perhaps as many as six commercial jets which had been hijacked by kamikaze-style terrorists.

The choice was clear. There was only one viable option.

President Bush issued an executive order. The military was to shoot down hijacked commercial airliners if necessary, to protect the citizens of the United States.

"I gave our military the orders necessary to protect Americans, do whatever it would take to protect Americans," Bush said later. "And of course that's difficult."

As detailed by Vice President Cheney, "We knew there was at least one, perhaps several more hijacked planes in the air. They had to be intercepted. If the plane would not divert, or if they wouldn't pay any attention to instructions to move away from the city, as a last resort our pilots were authorized to take them out."

"Now people say," Cheney continued, "that that's a horrendous decision to make. Well, it is. You've got an airplane full of American citizens, civilians, captured by terrorists and you are going to, in fact, shoot it down and kill all those Americans on board. But you have to ask yourself: If we had had combat air patrol up over New York, and we'd had the opportunity to take out the two aircraft that hit the World Trade Center, would we have been justified in it? And I think absolutely we would have."

In fact, jet fighters had been scrambled to take out and destroy the airliners that would eventually destroy the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. At 8:44 a.m. Tuesday, after it became clear that American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston to Los Angeles had been hijacked and had turned south toward New York City, two F-15 jet fighters were scrambled from Otis Air Force Base on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. But they were unable to intercept the doomed aircraft in time.

Two more F-16s had been scrambled from Langley Air Force Base at

9:42 a.m., but had been in the air for only two minutes when American Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon.

Now the President of the United States had reason to suspect that there could be three more planes with terrorists at the controls. Jet fighters were being scrambled.

There was in fact one more hijacked airline still in the air.

Its target: President Bush

United Airlines Flight 93, originally bound from Newark, N.J., to San Francisco, was at that very moment on its way toward Washington. Its final destination was the White House, home of the President of the United States.

Within moments, Two F-16 jet fighters were scrambled from Langley Air Force Base to intercept Flight 93 and shoot it down.

******

FLIGHT 93

United Airlines Flight 93 was supposed to be the first of the four hijacked jets to leave the ground. The other three flights would depart shortly thereafter. The terrorirsts’ plan called for a coordinated attack. Each hijacked jet had its own unique target, as well as an alternative target. The plan called for each site to be struck within minutes of the others, thus reducing the possibility of evacuation or military intervention if they had sufficient warning as to what was in store.

Instead the departure of Flight 93 was delayed. It was the last to be hijacked and the last to crash into the ground.

Its mission, however, remained clear: There was two targets to chose from: the White House or the Pentagon.

Jason Dahl, 43, pilot of United Airlines Flight 93, checked the instrument panel and went over the checklist with his copilot as they prepared for takeoff. Jason lived in Littleton, Colorado with wife Sandy and his son Matthew, 15. The previous day, he tried to find a pilot to take his place on the doomed flight so that he could spend time with his family.

Meanwhile, the stewardesses were carefully going through the preflight instructions. Most of the passengers, being seasoned veterans of innumerable flights, paid the flight attendants little attention. There were four notable exceptions: Ziad Jarrahi, Saeed Alghamdi, Ahmed Alhaznawi, and Ahmed Alnami.

After a 40-minute delay, United Airlines Flight 93, bound for San Francisco, began taxing down the runway. It took off from Gate 17, Concourse A and flew west, climbing to 35,000 feet.

Flight attendant CeeCee Lyles loved meeting new people and traveling to new places. And today would be no different from any other day. To her, she had the most exciting job in the world.

Although it had over 180 seats, the big jet was less than one quarter full. The passengers spread themselves out for more comfort and leg room.

Thomas E. Burnett Jr., 38, a 6-foot-2, former high school quaterback, was a Senior Vice President and CEO of Thoratec. He was not even supposed to be on this flight. On a whim, he had decided to fly home early because he missed his wife and three daughters, a 3-year-old and 5-year-old twins.

Jeremy Glick, 31, a 6-foot-4, 220 pound former high school wrestler and college judo champ, was on his way back to California where he worked as a sales manager for a California internet company. He settled into his seat and began attending to business.

Mark Bingham of San Francisco, was the owner of a public relations firm, The Bingham Group, with offices in New York and San Francisco. In addition to running his own business, Mark, 31, was a 6-foot-5 rugby player who had run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, just this summer. He was not a man to mess with. He formerly played on three national championship rugby teams at the University of California at Berkeley and had once wrestled a gun away from a mugger.

Mark was originally planning to fly to San Francisco the day before, but he decided to wait until Tuesday to recover from a friend’s birthday celebration party. When he overslept, his friend, Matt Hall, rushed him to Newark in time for his plane.

Mark was the last to board. He later called his friend to thank him. "Take care, I'll talk to you soon," Mark said.

He was sitting in seat 4D in the rear of the first class section. He would later call his mother to report the plane had been hijacked.

Alan A. Beaven, 48, was a father of three and a San Francisco attorney who specialized in environmental law. Alan was committed to protecting our water, and fought those who were polluting streams and rivers. A very spiritually minded man, with a deep and profound love for the environment, he had decided to take a year's sabbatical from his law practice to volunteer as the general counsel with Siddha Yoga Meditation in India. Before his trip overseas, Alan was working on a Clean Water Act lawsuit filed by fishermen over pollution in the American River. He was on his way back to San Francisco to work on this final case, after a meeting at the Siddha Foundation's U.S. headquarters in South Fallsburg, New York.

Richard Guadagno, 38, was also a lover of wildlife and the environment. He worked as a biologist managing the Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge in Northern California. Richard was a tough guy-- a real outdoorsman who lived and breathed wildlife. On his way home after visiting with his parents, he was looking forward to returning to California. Richard was soon to be married to Diqui LaPenta, 36, an assistant professor of microbiology at the College of the Redwoods in Eureka. He was about to embark on a whole new chapter in his life.

Deora Bodley, was starting her junior year at Santa Clara University. She had worked as a teacher's aid and volunteered for organizations like the Special Olympics. Deora was studying to become a psychologist. She wanted to help people. Although she first decided to take another flight, Deora wanted to leave earlier to get home to her boyfriend and family. She had already missed her original flight, which was scheduled to depart a week before the September 11 attacks.

Also on the plane that morning were four Arabic-looking men who were busily attending to their carry-on bags.

The five flight attendants, including Cee Cee Lyles, began serving breakfast.

CeeCee didn't live in San Francisco, though she sometimes stayed overnight depending on her flight schedule. Nor did she live in Boston. She made her home in Florida, where she lived with her husband, a police officer, and four sons.

There were several other passengers with Florida connections. Four of them planned to hijack the plane. Saeed Alghamdi, Ahmed Alhaznawi, and Ahmed Alnami were at that very moment preparing to take CeeCee and the other crew members hostage. Ziad Jarrahi was to take the controls and pilot the hijacked plane. Unbeknownst to any of the passengers, these four men were bound together in a suicide plot with a mission. They wanted to turn United Airlines Flight 93 into a ticking bomb, crashing it into the Pentagon, or the White House, following the arrival of the President of the United States.

It was time.

Ziad Jarrahi gave the signal and then he and Saeed Alghamdi, Ahmed Alhaznawi, and Ahmed Alnami, began acting out the drama that would enable them to incapacitate the crew and hijack the plane.

They had rehearsed their movements a hundred times. This well choreographed routine came naturally. First they put on their red head bands. Then came the red box which they would claim contained a bomb.

They stood up. They acted as one.

Brandishing the ceramic knives they had smuggled past metal detectors, as well as box cutters and razors, several of his men began threatening the flight attendants. His men screamed that this was a hijacking and that they had bombs.

At that very moment a male passenger had just exited the bathroom. He quickly stepped back inside. Using his cell phone, the man called an emergency dispatcher: “We are being hijacked, we are being hijacked! This is not a hoax!”

The terrorist began threatening the passengers, demanding that they get up from their seats and move to the back of the plane. One of the men slashed at and then killed a passenger to emphasize that they meant business.

The pilots, including Jason Dahl, had been explicitly trained to always cooperate with hijackers. However, they resisted and argued at first. Under duress, they reluctantly gave up their seats in the cockpit.

Portions of the cockpit encounter were caught by an open mike.

One of the pilots began to shout: "Get out of here!"

As air traffic controllers listened, the microphone went on and off over and over again. They heard fighting. Scuffling. One of the pilots yelled again: "Get out of here!''

Again the microphone started going on and off. And then, an Arabic-accented voice said in broken English: "There is a bomb on board. This is the captain speaking. Remain in your seat. There is a bomb on board. Stay quiet. We are meeting with their demands. We are returning to the airport.''

The microphone was then turned off a final time.

The pilots and the passengers were being herded by three of the hijackers into the rear of the plane. The hijackers stabbed the two pilots to death.

Ziad Jarrahi sat in the pilot's seat and took control. A second terrorist sat beside him. They had locked themselves in the cockpit.

The hijackers then sought to reassure the passangers. As reported by Jeremy Glick, to his wife back in New York:

"they said they were just making a political statement, and if everyone remained calm, they would all get back on the ground safely."

The passangers believed them.

Everything, so far, was going according to plan.

As United Airlines Flight 93 neared Cleveland Ziad Jarrahi received yet another call on his cell phone.

President Bush had made a statement about "possible terrorist attacks" and as predicted, he would soon be boarding Air Force One, and flying from Florida back to Washington, D.C., and Andrew's Airforce Base. From there he would go to the White House.

United Airlines Flight 93 made a U-turn and headed back toward Washington. The Cleveland control tower was observing the jet on radar and controllers were surprised when the plane made a sharp 180-degree turn and went to a low altitude.

Ziad Jarrahi was having some trouble controlling the craft. A witness on the ground called 911 to report a large aircraft flying low and banking from side to side.

Many of the passengers were frightened. Others were mad.

Although airborne, modern day airline passengers are by no means cut off from the world. With the wizardry of modern day wireless technology, phone calls can be made and received from anywhere in the world, including United Airlines Flight 93. Cell phones were ringing. Passengers made calls to their loved ones. Many had now learned of the disasters that had befallen the twin towers and what had become of other hijacked flights. They suspected that this is also what their fate held in store.

Some passengers cried. Others screamed. A few seethed and began to whisper among themselves. Thomas Burnett, Mark Bingham, Jeremy Glick, Todd Beamer, and a few others began to formulate a plan.

To their surprise, the hijackers told the passengers to call home to say goodbye.

Those with cell phones began calling friends and loved ones to tell them about the hijacking, and to say good bye and to profess their love.

From cell-phone calls from passengers and conversations in the cockpit, federal authorities soon learned the intended target of the suicide pilots was the White House.

Flight attendant CeeCee Lyles called her husband and four sons in Fort Myers, Fla. It was important to her that she talk to them and let them know how much she loved them." In the background, her husband could hear screaming.

Lauren Grandcolas, 36, called her husband, Jack, but he did not answer. So she left a message saying there was trouble on the plane, that there had been a hijacking, but that she was not hurt and was comfortable. She just wanted him to know, she said, that she loved him and their children, very much.

Andrew Garcia, 62, of Portola Valley, Califrnia also tried to call his family. But he only got a chance to say one word: "Dorothy," his wife's name. Then the line went dead.

Mark Bingham called his wife Kathy, from the cabin, ringing his home in Saratoga, at 6:35 a.m. California time. The line went dead. He called back. "Hi Kathy. It's Mark. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that I love all of you in case I never see you again....I'm on a plane that's being hijacked," he said.

Kathy had been making breakfast, and was at first groggy, half asleep. Now she was shocked and scared. She turned on a light and searched for something to write on. She bumped into his mother, Alice Hoglan, who had also come to answer the phone. Alice got on the line.

"Mom," he began, inexplicably becoming formal, "this is Mark Bingham. I just wanted you to know I love you. I'm on United Flight 93 -- we have been taken over by hijackers, by three guys who say they have a bomb."

Jeremy Glick called his wife, Lyzbeth from a seat phone. He placed the call to his in-laws' home in upstate New York, where his wife was staying with the couple's 11-week-old daughter, Emerson.

Jerry began recounting the horror that was unfolding. He told her the plane had been hijacked by three knife-wielding Arabs wearing red headbands. They were brandishing a box that they said contained a bomb.

Lyzbeth gasped. "Oh my God, Jeremy's on one of the planes."

"Calm down, you have to be brave, you have to be strong," Jeremy told her.

Lyzbeth's mother used her own cell phone and called 911. State troopers asked questions that were relayed to Jeremy, which he tried to answer.

But then, Jeremy had his own questions:

"How did these people ever get on this flight with knives and bombs? How could this happen?" Jeremy asked. ''How could this be, that we could be taken by surprise by these armed people?"

He told his wife that he and the other men were trying to decide what to do. "We're just deciding whether we should do this, are we better off not attacking them?"

The trooper then confirmed what Jeremy had already heard from some of the other passenger. Two other hijacked planes had just hit the World Trade Center.

Glick wanted to know if the other planes were commerical airliners. The answer was yes.

At that point, Glick knew he was riding on a flying bomb that would soon be used to killed many more than those aboard.

Then they talked about what Glick planned to do next.

Glick shut off the phone and conferred with some of the other men. A few minutes later he called his wife back and told her that he and some of the other men were going to try to overpower the hijackers. "If we are going to crash into something . . . let's not let that happen...Our best chance is to fight these people, rather than accept it." Then he added: "I just want you to know how much I love you and the baby."

Thomas Burnett was also talking with Deena, his wife, and told her the plane had been hijacked. "They've already knifed a guy. They're saying they have a bomb."

Thomas Burnett called her two more times to discuss the situation and then he made one final call: “I know we’re all going to die - there’s three of us who are going to do something about it.”

Deena was frantic. She pleaded with him not to risk his life, that they might kill him. A former flight attendant, she remembered her training. "I told him to please sit down and not draw attention to himself."

But Burnett wouldn't hear of it. They were going to get these guys. Then he said to his wife, "I love you, honey."

“He told me over and over how much he loved me. He must have said 'I love you’ about a thousand times."

Finally he told her, "We’ve decided. We're going to do it." He said he would leave the phone off the hook.

Deena gave the phone to her father. She did not want to hear the rest.

Her father listened:

"It was quiet for a couple of minutes, followed by a series of screams in the background. Two minutes more of silence came, followed by more screams, commotion and then more silence.... We were hoping that Jeremy or somebody will come back and say it worked, or something... but after the screams faded away there was only a noise that sounded like air passing, maybe static -- it was a nonhuman noise . . . then it was no noise, it was silence. We held onto the phone for a couple of hours but no one came back on the line."

Todd Beamer 32, a former high school baseball and basketball star was an Oracle Executive from New Jersey and the father of two young children. Todd was a religious man who was very involved in his church. Using an airphone, he tried to call his wife, who is five months pregnant with their third child. He was unsuccessful. Todd managed to get through to a GTE supervisor, Lisa Jefferson. She could hear the screaming and commotion in the background. Todd told her that the hijackers had stabbed and may have killed the two pilots and another passanger.

"I am not sure if they are dead or alive," he said. "I also know," he continued, "that we are going to make it out of here." He then told her than he, Glick and the others were going to "jump the hijacker with the bomb", the one was guarding them in the rear of the plane.

They recited Psalm 23, the Lord’s Prayer, together. And he made Jefferson promise to call his wife Lisa, to tell them he loved them. "Thank you," he said, then dropped the phone.

Todd’s were the last words heard by listeners outside the plane: "God help me. Jesus help me. Are you guys ready? Let's roll."

There were screams, shouts... and then there was silence.

The jet was now 100 miles southeast of Pittsburgh, soaring over rural Pennsylvania.

They were strangers to one another, Jeremy Glick, Tom Burnett, Todd Beamer, and Mark Bingham: Successful, take-charge guys, on an early morning, cross-country flight. But now fate had brought them together. And they would die together. But not without a fight.

All the other men on board agreed to join them in this fight to the finish. They would attack, disarm, and then kill the four hijackers, and if god be willing, take control of Flight 93 before it crashed.

They advanced toward their red-head-banded opponents: Saeed Alghamdi, Ahmed Alhaznawi, Ahmed Alnami and Ziad Jarrahi.

Jeremy Glick, Tom Burnett, Todd Beamer, and Mark Bingham, and the others had made a decision to fight. They were not afraid. They were not going to be intimidated. They were Americans.

They attacked and became entangled in a life and death struggle with the hijackers. Several of the men must have been slashed and stabbed but the desperate struggle continued. Listeners on cell phones heard screaming and scuffling, then silence.

In the cockpit, Ziad Jarrahi could hear the fighting, and he knew that this holy cause was lost. Jarrahi and his men had failed.

At precisely 10:10 a.m. Flight 93 plowed into the soft earth of a former strip mine, near Stony Creek Township, in rural southwestern Pennsylvania, killing all aboard.

*******

8:45 a.m.: American Airlines Flight 11, a Boeing 767 en route from Boston's Logan Airport to Los Angeles International with 92 people onboard, slams into the north tower of the World Trade Center"

9:03 a.m.: Approximately 18 minutes later, United Airlines Flight 175, a Boeing 767 enroute from Boston to Los Angeles with 65 people onboard, hits the south tower of the World Trade Center."

9:43 a.m.: American Airlines Flight 77, a Boeing 757 enroute from Dulles Airport outside Washington to LAX with 58 passengers and six crew members, crashes into the Pentagon. One of the building's five sides collapses.

10:05 a.m.: The south tower of the World Trade Center collapses in a plume of ash and debris.

10:28 a.m.: The World Trade Center's north tower collapses.

5:25 p.m.: Seven World Trade Center, a 47-story tower, collapses from ancillary damage. Copyright © 2001, 2005, 2006 All Rights Reserved