The story of these firefighters is a familiar one from last Tuesday morning. The call came in at around 9:10 a.m. Although Ladder 7 was out on another call, they headed downtown to the World Trade Center. “They were probably here within the first 20 minutes,” says Vincent Pickford, a former Ladder 7 firefighter who hopes to help find them.
Kross, who was heading up Engine 16 that day, says his truck followed them soon after. When the truck pulled up to chaos, people were running everywhere, debris falling all around. Told to report to 1 World Trade Center, the Engine 16 crew headed up to the 23rd floor to speak with a fire chief. As Kross was looking for him, he ran into an elderly, heavyset African-American woman named Josephine. “She looked like she was having trouble breathing, and she came down a staircase from where nobody else really was,” Kross recalls. “Our people were by the other staircase, so I sent her there.”
Kross finally found the chief, but as they began conferring, the building began to rumble. “I thought it was an elevator falling to the ground,” Kross says. In fact, it was the first tower coming down-most likely the tower where Ladder 7 was located. Everyone was immediately ordered to evacuate. Kross sent his men down the stairs and stayed behind to help Josephine. It was slow going: Josephine was overweight and could only go down one step at a time. “We got down to the fourth floor and there was the loudest rumble I’ve heard in my life,” says Kross. “I grabbed my helmet over my head and made myself into a small ball.” He squatted on his haunches, his hands under his feet. “I thought I was going to die,” he says. Debris showered down.
When the rumbling stopped, Kross found himself in utter darkness and covered in debris. He figured the entire building had fallen on top of him. He found a small opening, climbed up-and fell down to the next landing. There, he found a battalion chief and another lieutenant-most likely they had been on the stairs ahead of him. The space was cramped, so the three huddled together with their limbs touching, while they tried to make contact by radio. Air was flowing into the space, which surprised Kross. After about an hour, he says, they reached somebody on the outside.
For a while Kross lost track of time. Then he saw a dull, grayish light above him. At first he thought it was a flashlight, but after a while, the hole lightened up and a ray of sunlight filtered down to their cramped quarters. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kross says. “I realized we weren’t totally buried.” Determined to reach it, the three climbed a girder, went up the staircase, and squeezed through the hole. When they emerged, they were at the top of the debris pile.
Outside, girders towered 60-70 feet overhead and fires crackled nearby. Twisted metal was everywhere, while dust and smoke made it difficult to see. The sight was one of utter devastation. “I didn’t want to look up anymore,” says Kross. The men walked, but fires forced them to turn back. They gingerly scaled girders and mounted heaps. When they finally saw a few firemen coming toward them in the distance, Kross says it was the first time he thought he would make it. Soon he came upon men from his own company. “Mickey, you’re alive!” yelled his captain. “Mickey, it’s great to see you!” another said, running up to hug him. “No,” Kross responded, “it’s great to see you!” Now Kross wonders whether Josephine ever made it out. He is also consumed by worries for his Ladder 7 mates.
Since the collapse, Engine 16, their squad now intact, has been desperately searching for their brothers in Ladder 7. “There’s usually a secondary attack that comes 20 minutes later to take out the first responders,” says Joe Finley, a Ladder 7 firefighter who was not on duty at the time of the call. “They all knew that. They saw the danger and they ran into help people.” Finley lost his father to firefighting and would like to spare his friends’ wives and children from the same experience. “It’s something that never goes away,” he says.
Back at the station, the names of the missing men are written on a duty roster above a shrine of flowers, cards and children’s drawings: Richard … Princiotta …Cain … Mendez … Foti … Muldowney. A piece of paper with the words DO NOT TOUCH THIS BOARD is taped below them. The firefighters say they’ll keep the names there until the lost men come home.
