The View From Ground Zero
By Jim Napuli
Wellington Town Crier

October 5, 2001

Editor’s Note: Retired New York City firefighter Joe Napuli, now living in Wellington, returned to the FDNY last month to help out. This is his first-hand account of the scene at “Ground Zero.”

Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001 will be the New York City Firefighter’s “Day of Infamy.” As a nation, we were truly shocked at the incomprehensible acts of terror against our country.

When the incidents occurred, my first thought was that firefighters would be running into the building. After the second aircraft hit the other tower, and the towers began to collapse, I was horrified knowing that firefighters would be killed. I prayed that they would get out safely. Unfortunately, more than 350 did not survive.

 During the first few days, I sat glued to the television waiting for a miracle that survivors would be found. As a retired New York City firefighter, I could not sit and watch any longer. I packed a bag and, along with my 19-year-old son Phil, got into my car and headed north. I had to go because I knew so many of the names that were filtering in as “killed in the line of duty.” Upon arriving in New York, I went directly to my firehouse and was met by the many bouquets of flowers, candles, and cards from the community expressing their sympathy. I reviewed a list of those missing and cried as I came upon names of those I knew closely and dearly. I sat there stunned with tears flowing as I recalled the memories of each of those fallen brothers.

The next day, Phil and I went to “Ground Zero” and could not believe what we saw. The total devastation of an area that once was the thriving financial capital of the world was now a graveyard of innocent victims, twisted steel, and concrete. Having seen it on television, I could not have imagined how much worse it would look in person. As my brothers dug, by hand, for survivors, I looked around and did not see one resemblance of an office — no computers, furniture, chairs, phones, etc. The only thing that remained was dust. Searching for survivors almost seemed futile among all this. I walked the site with tears flowing as I met firefighter after firefighter who I know. We hugged and sobbed together, reminiscing about the brothers we had lost and wondering how we could all go on.

After dark, my son and I got on a bus heading back to Staten Island. The driver waived the fare for us and passengers on the bus got up and applauded us as we sat in our seats. The outpouring of love and support was heart wrenching. Although firefighters always have a special place in people’s hearts, this show of support was more than I had ever expected.

The remainder of my week was spent attending funerals and working phones, accepting donations for the Widows and Children’s Fund set up by the Uniformed Firefighters Association of New York. The phones were busy and people from all walks of life were calling to donate and to commend us for the job we are doing.

 During my 23 years on the job, I attended many funerals. Sometimes 10,000 or more firefighters would gather somberly for a fallen brother to show support for them and their families. Now, they are urging New Yorkers to attend as many funerals as possible — because with the vast number of funerals, there are not enough firefighters to attend each one.

 New York City firefighters, though damaged, scarred, and fatefully enshrined into the history of New York, will continue the tradition of saving lives. They will never forget the loss they took on Sept. 11, but they will go on. Rest in peace brothers, and God Bless America.

If you would like to send a donation, I recommend the UFA Widows and Children’s Fund, 204 E. 23rd St., New York, NY 10010.