Priority! Fall 2011

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9/11 We Remember

Fall 2011

SPECI A L 10 t h A N N IV ERSA RY ISSU E

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Ground Zero: New York City

A Salvation Army mobile canteen was on the scene within 30 minutes after the first jet hit the North Tower. The Army’s comprehensive, compassionate service lasted until the closing ceremonies on May 30, 2002, and continued at various sites in and around the city for four more years.

The Pentagon: Arlington, Va.When Major Todd Smith saw the smoke ris-ing very near his Washington, D.C., office, he dispatched mobile canteens immediately to the Pentagon. The Salvation Army served more than 7,000 workers every day for three weeks at the crash site.

Flight 93: Shanksville, Pa.The Salvation Army sprang into action as soon as word was received of a plane down in a field in western Pennsylvania. The Army provided a trusted presence to police, FBI, and families on the scene.

We RememberThis 10th anniversary commemorative issue of Priority! is filled with voices of those who served with The Salvation Army following the attacks on September 11, 2001.

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DEPARTMENTS 5 Letters

FALL 2011 Volume 13 No. 3

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…promoting prayer, holiness, and evangelism through the life stories of God’s people

THE SALVATION ARMY

Territorial Leaders USA Eastern Territory

Commissioner R. Steven Hedgren Commissioner Judith A. Hedgren

Chief Secretary Colonel William Carlson

Editor Linda D. Johnson

Art Director Keri Johnson

Senior Designer Saoul Vanderpool

Contributing Editors Warren L. Maye, Robert Mitchell

Graphic Designers Dave Hulteen, Karena Lin,

Joe Marino, Reginald Raines

Circulation Deloris Hansen

Marketing Christine Webb

SALVATION ARMY MISSION STATEMENT

The Salvation Army, an international movement, is an evangelical part of the universal Christian

Church. Its message is based on the Bible. Its ministry is motivated by the love of God.

Its mission is to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to meet human needs in His name

without discrimination.

Priority! is published quarterly by The Salvation Army USA Eastern Territory. Subscriptions are $8.95 per year;

bulk rates available. Write to: Priority!, The Salvation Army, 440 West Nyack Rd., West Nyack, NY 10994–1739. Volume 13, No. 3, Fall 2011. Printed in USA. Postmaster: Send all address changes to: Priority!, 440 West Nyack Road, West Nyack, NY 10994–1739. Priority! accepts advertising. Copyright ©2011 by The Salvation Army,

USA Eastern Territory. Articles may be reprinted only with written permission.

USA National website: www.SalvationArmyUSA.org

‘I Will Restore’

T en years ago, after I had the

privilege of serving on Sept. 14

and 15 at Ground Zero, I couldn’t

sleep until I wrote about my experience. I

called the piece I wrote “Altered Reality.”

What I had seen was apocalyptic, the stuff

of nightmares. I wrote, “So many people

in the world already know what we have now learned: that evil has the power to

destroy, and no one is invulnerable.” Then I wrote about serving the rescue workers

from my post very close to the smoking pile of rubble. And about the indomitable

spirit of a New Yorker who worked alongside me handing out dust masks, socks,

Gatorade, and gum to men and women heading back to their desperate search for

survivors.

I asked, “Where was God in all of this?” And I answered, “He was at the heart

of it all, right where evil had planted its seed.”

Those words come from a Morris Chapman song, most familiar as sung by

Joseph Garlington. It goes, “What was lost in battle/What was taken unlawful/

Where the enemy has planted his seed … I will restore to you all of this and more.”

When I sent out a call in May for memories of 9/11, they flooded in, and I was

struck by how vivid, detailed, and raw they were. Aaron Antill talked about visit-

ing the site, where new Towers are now rising from what was once called the “Pit.”

He said, “Lots of feelings I didn’t know I had came rushing back.”

That may be true for you too on this 10th anniversary. It certainly is for me. My

reality has truly been forever altered. Evil did plant its seed in America on Sept.

11, 2001. But right there, in the midst of smoke and ash and sorrow, God began to

restore. He was there in New York City. He was there in Shanksville, Pa. And He

was there at the Pentagon. He was there with the thousands of Salvation Army

officers, soldiers, and volunteers who washed feet, served a cup of cold water, and

prayed with the exhausted, the angry, the grieving.

My prayer is that as you read this issue, you’ll find what many of the writers

found—the Lord in the midst of it all. He’s still there today, with healing in His

wings. He will restore: That’s a promise.

EVANGELICALPRESS ASSOCIATION

EVANGELICALPRESS ASSOCIATION

Editor

serving among new yorkersI served at Ground Zero two weeks prior

to Thanksgiving, 2001. It was a privilege

serving among the New Yorkers who

tirelessy gave of their time, despite their

own loss and pain. I met many wonder-

ful individuals, especially Debbie, a

native of Brooklyn. Debbie said that

if she would ever convert from her

Jewish faith, she would convert to Sal-

vationism.

Captain Shannon Benner

Shelbyville, IN

california team

As many other volunteers gave of time

and service to help the people of New

York, so did Tom and I. We wasted no

time responding to the call when Cali-

fornia Southern Baptist Disaster Team

requested us to join with The Salvation

Army to provide meals for the some 600

investigators that were sifting through

the rubble on Staten Island. We still

correspond with some of the people we

met while working the 9/11 disaster in

New York. It was our pleasure to serve

alongside The Salvation Army. When

I returned home I wrote an 11–page

story of my experience. Our lives were

changed forever.

Tom & Peggy Williams

Banning, CA

Comfort in Boston

A number of officers were at Logan Air-

port in Boston providing counseling to

families of those who died in the WTC

airplane attacks.

I recall ministering to a couple of

families, holding them as they cried

in total shock and disbelief.

It was not easy not to join in

their suffering because crying

was the only response we

could muster.

With other families, we

just sat in silence with them,

letting them know that we

were present and we would

not leave them alone.

Major Jim Guest

School for Officer Training

Suffern, NY

dark daysI was stationed at Ground Zero in the

American Express building, which was

also being used as the morgue. I always

get a little teary–eyed when I recall all

the details. It was raining; all I could

smell was jet fuel; there was dust and

black soot everywhere; the lights didn’t

work; everything was dark outside and

inside the buildings. The most powerful

memory was when body parts wrapped

in orange material were carted into the

AMEX building right in front of me.

It’s a pretty brutal image to recall, but

it also made me grateful and thank-

ful to God for everything I have. So

when I hear people (including myself)

complaining over petty things, I think

back and remember how very blessed I

actually am.

Ivette Czaja

Greater New York

Divisional Headquarters

flight 93 gallantryThe one thing that stands out in my

mind when I remember Sept. 11, 2001, is

that Osama Bin Laden could put a dent

in our country but not could not ‘total’

us. We are a strong bunch of people who

stick together in times of trouble. Expe-

riencing the recovery efforts at the crash

site of Flight 93, I witnessed and was

a part of the gallantry of our citizens

working together. It really made me very

Letters about 9/11The cover of a special supplement done 10 years ago. For many people, the memories are still fresh.

Ohio Christian UniversityAD

Disaster Management & Relief Program » Be prepared to serve around the world » Be challenged by new intercultural classes » Work with international and domestic

relief organizations

MAKE ADIFFERENCEyou can

Enroll Today!Program admission is limited. Apply online at www.OhioChristian.edu or call 1-877-762-8669 to learn more.

Thad Hicks, Program [email protected]

Phone: 740-744-7710www.OhioChristian.edu

500 North 7th Street, Sanford, NC (800) 605-2130 www.thisendup.com

THIS END UPF U R N I T U R E C O M P A N Y

Letters about 9/11proud to be an American and belong to

The Salvation Army.

Marilyn Albright

Western Pennsylvania Division

changed outlookWhen 9/11 happened, I was a newly

commissioned officer and newly married.

I was down at Ground Zero for 12 days.

My experience there changed my whole

outlook on life. Some things just weren’t

as important any more. I found a new

love for God, my family, and my country.

Captain Matthew Morrison

Augusta, ME

bagels at ‘best price’On the following Saturday morning

following 9/11, I had my daughter,

Amanda (who was starting high school

at Styvesant High School, only a couple

of blocks from the Towers), and her

friend Adria, and we were coming to

Territorial Headquarters to volunteer

on the phone banks. I wanted them to

see the “other” side of the tragedy and

just how Christian “Christians” could

be. On the way to the office, I stopped

at my fave bagel shop to get some bagels

for the volunteers. The owner came over

and I said to him, “I want a big bag of

bagels at a good price.” He said, “What’s

up?” I told him and he came back with

an enormous bag with bagels falling

off the top, it was so full. I said, “How

much?” He said, “Free!—and that is my

best price!” The girls experienced some

very generous Americans that day and

have never forgotten their time at The

Salvation Army after 9/11.

Tom Baker

Eastern Territorial Headquarters

6 www.armyconnections.org

Ohio Christian UniversityAD

Disaster Management & Relief Program » Be prepared to serve around the world » Be challenged by new intercultural classes » Work with international and domestic

relief organizations

MAKE ADIFFERENCEyou can

Enroll Today!Program admission is limited. Apply online at www.OhioChristian.edu or call 1-877-762-8669 to learn more.

Thad Hicks, Program [email protected]

Phone: 740-744-7710www.OhioChristian.edu

Ground ZeroNew York, NY

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I was on the phone when I first heard that a plane had crashed into the North Tower. At that time, the

magnitude of the tragedy was unclear. Most of us suspected it was a small plane that had somehow veered off course and slammed into the building.

By the time I got off the phone, I had gone to the back window, near my office on the sixth floor of Greater New York (GNY) Divisional Headquarters and in a direct line to the World Trade Center. What I witnessed next will always be etched into my memory. I stood there aghast as I watched a large plane, flying at a low altitude, cross the river and disappear behind the South Tower. A moment later the side of the building facing me erupted in an enormous ball of flame.

It was then that my life changed forever.

As director of public information for GNY, my role was to clearly communi-cate what was taking place and how we were responding. Because so many vic-tims were internationals, my responsibil-ities suddenly expanded and I became a global communicator for the Army—to the division, the territory, national and international headquarters. Events were taking place in such rapid succession and in such a chaotic environment that it was a challenge to disseminate even the most basic information. Overloaded communications systems made it that much more difficult.

‘Compassion Under Fire’ by Craig H. Evans

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Ground Zero - New York, NY

Somehow, despite great obstacles, our divisional staff pulled together and mounted a response that was well beyond our human capabilities. We put the situation in the hands of an omnipotent God, and the pieces began coming together.

We became a close team, totally dependent upon each other but, more importantly, completely reliant upon a God who could do, through us, more than we could ever imagine. The depth

of feeling that I have for each one of these beautiful friends is beyond descrip-tion. They were all heroes in my eyes.

It was in this climate that we named our response efforts “Compassion Under Fire.” In the midst of the ugliest circum-stances, we were reminded that we were a compassionate Army, ready to fight evil with good.

Evans is development director for the Army’s Northern New England Division.

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The team gets to work at Greater New York Divisional Headquarters. Craig Evans is at far right; Major Hildred Schoch at center.

Escaping the city over the Brooklyn Bridge.

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Arriving at Ground Zero within 12 hours of the attack has seared im-ages, sounds, and aromas into my

brain. I can summon every sensory as-sault of that day and be in that place—anytime. In the first few days, nobody was considering particle masks or hard hats or perimeter checkpoints. That all came after the first week or so. It was quasi–organized chaos as like–minded people focused on doing anything we

could to channel our own feelings and horror by helping.

I can still feel the adrenaline surge fueling countless hours and days of en-ergy—scouring “the pile,” handing out water bottles or gloves to workers; pray-ing with firefighters, volunteers, and the dazed who were already on their knees. That was not normally in my comfort zone, but prayer was effortless and flow-ing through grace in those surreal days.

What remains with me deeply is the unity of spirit and mission in a collab-orative effort to “Do Something!,” a very familiar charge to Salvationists. Folks of every color and race—PATRIOTS—there only to serve our fallen brothers. What a responsibility—what a privilege!

Vaughan is facilities manager at Eastern Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.

‘do something!’ by Peter C. Vaughan

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Gearing Up by Lt. Colonel Abraham Johnson

I was at the weekly finance council meeting at divisional headquarters (DHQ) when the secretary of Major

Carl Schoch, divisional commander (DC), informed us that a plane had crashed into one of the twin towers. One person at the table said that perhaps someone was filming a movie; therefore, we continued with our council business.

But in about 10–15 minutes, the DC’s secretary interrupted again to inform us that a second plane had crashed into the South Tower. Both buildings were now on fire, with part of a plane embedded in one of the buildings. The DC adjourned the council meeting and we all went to the window to see for ourselves.

A number of us, including the DC,

went immediately to the scene. We made our way, walking through thick smoke and dust, through police block-ades and crushed vehicles, including fire engines and police cars. We had to wear face masks and gloves because the dust was mingled with body ash.

Some people were walking dazed; others were crying, looking for their work companions; others were running. Firefighters and police officers, covered in soot, looked like white ghosts; many were dazed and in shock.

Upon returning to DHQ, I was appointed to the Salvation Army’s emergency operation. I was assigned to supervise, with a team, the delivery of food, water, and clothing that had come by tractor trailer from as far as the state

of Washington. My responsibility was to supply and restock the canteens parked on the sidewalks from 7th Avenue to 6th Avenue and on both sides of the side-walk of 14th Street. For the next three weeks I remained on duty, working from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., seven days a week. We slept in shifts in the DHQ building. I went home just twice.

During this time, I had the oppor-tunity to pray and encourage people—police officers, firefighters, emergency personnel, and people in the street. I thank God that I was available to bring direction and hope to people who asked for help.

Johnson is a retired officer living in Phila-delphia.

Commissioner Joe Noland (left) was territorial commander on 9/11, and Major Carl Schoch was divisional commander in Greater New York.

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Heading for the city from Long Island, I felt like a Pacific salmon in springtime. All the traffic was com-

ing out (except for emergency personnel trying to get in). I will always be amazed at the confidence given to us because of our Salvation Army identification. The red shield on the van and my uniform got me through every makeshift check-point that sprang up. By the time I could see the Manhattan skyline, both towers were down, and an enormous cloud of smoke overshadowed the southern tip of Manhattan. It was surreal.

Before I could make it to the Temple Corps, coming down 7th Avenue, a company of off–duty firefighters who wanted to get down to the World Trade Center commandeered the van. So, in my first official duty, I drove them down (past 14th Street, which was the first red or restricted zone) as far as possible, until the police stopped us. The firefighters got out and walked the rest of the way, and I doubled back to divisional head-quarters.

I was directed by our divisional leadership team (Majors Carl & Hildred Schoch, divisional leaders, and Majors Stephen and Jan Banfield, general sec-retary and women’s ministry secretary) to prepare the corps as a shelter/overflow

triage for potential victims. The Temple Corps is around the corner from (then) St. Vincent’s Hospital, and it was felt that they might need overflow beds/cots for survivors who weren’t badly wounded. Of course, as everyone now knows, those victims—survivors—never came.

That night an ARC truck arrived from Star Lake Camp in New Jersey with beds. We set them up in the corps chapel and on the second floor. While the beds were never used for patients, they were used for the first two weeks for out–of–town rescue personnel and EDS teams from outside the division. We even had some teams with search and rescue dogs stay with us. The corps kitchen on the second floor quickly became a feeding station. Soldiers and officers (including Majors David and Al-ice Hathorn and Majors Norm and Ruby Zanders) from the corps came to help the first wave of EDS and rescue workers who came for rest and refreshment. That first night I stayed up all night, standing on the sidewalk, encountering people who were searching for missing loved ones. I had a couple of opportunities that evening to pray with some of them.

By the second night the Temple Corps chapel transitioned from a dorm

for the rescue personnel to a supply house. (The second floor continued to serve as a rest station for the first two weeks.) The Army was quickly inun-dated with donations of gifts in kind, including tractor–trailer loads of goods. I remember one guy who drove up, parked his truck, trailer and all, and handed the keys to Army personnel.

I will never forget the generosity of the American people during those days. I still have the Timberland boots and Maglite flashlight that I used for those days of relief work. Major Hildred Schoch and my wife worked at the back of our chapel distributing water, protein bars, gloves, etc. to workers coming back from or going to Ground Zero (as it was now being called).

After two weeks, we were released from our duties as first responders as National Headquarters prepared to set up for the long–term relief effort. We had 50–yard–line seats, however, to the entire relief effort, until the last remains/debris were removed from Ground Zero in May of 2002.

Satterlee, with his wife, Major Marissa Satterlee, were corps officers at New York Temple at the time of the attacks. They now serve in Western Pennsylvania.

Triage at New York Temple by Major Dean Satterlee

Oscar DoSantos



Donations pile up outside Greater New York Divisional Headquarters. The New York Temple is at the same site on 14th Street.

Oscar DoSantos


Organizing Chaos by Major Elizabeth Roby

On Tuesday morning, Sept. 11, 2001, I was listening to the radio as I prepared to leave the house to go to

the School for Officer Training in Suf-fern, N.Y., for chapel and my morning’s work [on the faculty]. The weatherman said, “It is going to be a beautiful day, bright and sunny.” The chapel speaker spoke on “Holy Boldness.” As we were leaving chapel, word started to pass that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Classes were canceled, and we returned to the chapel for prayer. Then, everyone signed up for teams to go into the city. They especially wanted people in the first teams with language and medical skills. Being bilingual in English and Spanish, I was in the first group to go to the city.

It was strange to go in a convoy, with traffic to the city being diverted and only emergency response vehicles such as ours permitted. We had only water with us. Food supplies were supposed to be waiting for us once we got to the

city, but it didn’t happen that way. We needed to feed ourselves and the police, who were everywhere.

At last sandwiches arrived in abun-dance, and we could feed those around us. The firefighters, who had been working for hours, were glad for the sandwiches—ham and cheese—except for several Jewish firefighters, who asked if we had just cheese or peanut butter and jelly—anything but ham. Obviously, the Salvation Army corps from all over the area that had been putting sand-wiches together had not thought of that need, but we let people know when we returned home.

The next day, things were different, more organized. We had kosher food for the Jewish workers, and restaurants in the area were sending food. Donations piled up all over. The public certainly showed their generosity and their faith in the Salvation Army’s work.Roby serves at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.

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A Harrowing Two Weeks by Aaron Antill

I remember that day as if it were yes-terday! I was a cadet at the School for Officer Training in Suffern, N.Y. We

had just finished a half hour of power [a prayer service] and were on our way to classes. Next thing you know, we were informed that we were being sent in groups to Ground Zero to help out. I was told which group I was with and that I would be transporting the group to the city.

I loved driving in the city—the ac-tion, the business—but this night was so different. We couldn’t go the normal way because it was unclear if the George Washington Bridge was safe to cross yet. So we were routed across the Tappan Zee Bridge and down. This was the longest ride of my life; there were no cars on the road, but there were military and police checks, it seemed, about every mile!

Entering the city was eerie. We were not sure about anything at this point. The radio was issuing warnings; there were bomb scares; and buildings were still teetering. As we got closer, it started to look like winter with all the gray soot and lights shining. The dust was so

thick, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. We spent two weeks or so, sometimes

14–hour shifts, working down there, taking food and coffee and water right down into the pile. I can remember the faces, the tired eyes, the devastation. We spent a lot of time working in the American Express building just feet away from piles of body bags.

In August 2010 I took a trip to Ground Zero. It was the first time [I had been back there]. Lots of feelings I didn’t know I had came rushing back. I am so glad my father was there to listen to me and let me vent. Then when the news broke [of Osama bin Laden’s death], it was good to hear but in my mind still doesn’t [make up for] the number of lives lost in that one incident.

The thing that has helped me the most was [that I saw] the unity that can happen in this country in a time of di-saster. For a brief time, all the bickering and pointless nonsense stopped and we were one united nation.

Antill is a Salvation Army soldier in Oil City, Pa.

Traffic pours continuously down the West Side Highway toward Ground Zero.


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The sidewalk outside Greater New York Divisional Headquarters.



That night it seemed that New York City had fallen absolutely still. People passed each other on the

streets silently, but they looked into each other’s eyes. That behavior was highly unusual for my hometown.

That night it was whispered over and over again, “The World Trade Center has gone down”—as if there might be somebody who didn’t already know.

That night no one knew what was next. The tunnels and bridges to Manhattan had been closed to most traffic. Armed military personnel rode our subways and patrolled our streets.

Low–flying military helicopters guarded our riverbanks and darted along our streets with spotlights piercing the dark. Most people couldn’t sleep, saying to themselves, “What’s next?”

Meanwhile in lower Manhattan, there was still chaos. The air was still thick with debris, so thick that it couldn’t be washed from your body, clothing, or shoes. It was too dark to see even a few feet. Cars and trucks were abandoned, so damaged as to never be usable again. Periodically a siren would scream and shouts would come from bullhorns, “Everyone run uptown!” Our volunteers, braver than brave, continued to serve. What’s next?

Before morning, more than 1,000 New Yorkers had reported to 120 West 14th Street [the Salvation Army’s Greater New York Divisional Head-quarters] just to see what they could do. Advisory Board members and Wall Street executives alike, unable to get home, reported to The Salvation Army for duty. Homeless men stood next to bank executives lifting cases of water into canteens, vans, and whatever vehicles would still run. Business suits next to blue jeans next to Salvation Army uniforms, all doing the same work. A man with a simple paper shield pinned to his suit lapel faced me and said, “What’s next, Captain? I’m one of yours!” Within a few hours all of us were gray with the same dust from the World Trade Center; you couldn’t tell us apart, and it was to remain that way, in spirit

and resolve, for a long time.That night, New York City and New

Yorkers came together in ways I had never known before. Nonprofit agencies, usually rivals for recognition and dollars, worked together. People who under other circumstances might have been afraid of one another stood side by side to lift a common burden and fight a common enemy. Fear was real; it had a face and a location. New York was forev-er changed, but in the midst of all that carnage, haze, destruction, and chaos, on that night, New Yorkers only asked one question, “What’s next, Captain?”

Forty–eight hours later (time had become irrelevant by then), the mayor, Rudolph Guiliani, called us first re-sponders together to coordinate our efforts. Without much sleep, most had only been talking on two–way radios or Nextel cell phones (the only ones still working), and when we actually saw each other, this group of CEO types mostly just hugged and cried! The mayor had tears in his eyes too but was even more surprised to learn the coor-dinated effort had already started! We were working together! “What’s next, Mr. Mayor?”

And so it was for the next two years!

LaMarr, now retired, became the divi-sional commander in Greater New York two months into the 9/11 effort. Though he was a lieutenant colonel, many people simply saw him as ‘Captain,’ as they did many other Salvation Army officers.

‘What’s Next, Captain?’ by Lt. Colonel Bill LaMarr


In the early morning hours the day after the first plane smashed into the North Tower of the World Trade

Center, Commissioner Joe Noland and I, who served as his chief secretary, along with a small team from Territorial Head-quarters, drove steadily down the West Side Highway toward the large black plume of smoke coming from lower Manhattan.

With police waving us through the makeshift checkpoints, we arrived at a Salvation Army canteen that had hurriedly set up shop on the south side of Broadway between Maiden Lane and Dey Street, one block from the rubble of the South Tower.

I remember walking alone down Dey Street. The first person I met was a police officer with whom I had a brief, unforgettable encounter. Our initial greetings were followed by silence, star-ing at each other with disbelief, and the shaking of our heads. Words failed.

Conversation seemed pointless. In the end, we simply hugged each other as we fought back emotions we both knew could become uncontrolled. My new friend and brother—a tall, strong mem-ber of the NYPD—turned away in tears.

At the corner of Dey and Church I came face to face with the smoldering pit already labeled as “Ground Zero” by the media. The bleak, ghastly scene is forever embedded in my memory. It remains the most indescribable, destruc-tive scene I have ever witnessed. The formidable sturdy girders of the South Tower were twisted and tossed like pretzels, some still awkwardly standing against an implausibly stunning blue sky.

I crossed what had been the street and looked intently into the Pit for what seemed a very long time. Simply typing these words brings back vivid sights—with surprising details—the putrid smell and the eerie silence, interrupted only by firefighters calling to each other and

the steady background cry of sirens. I shall never forget that walk to the

Pit and the walk back to the Salvation Army canteen that had arrived from Pennsylvania only hours before. Com-missioner Joe and I gathered the officers and volunteers for prayer. During the prayer, I was overcome with a startling hope and an extraordinary sense of peace—Jesus came alongside us. We knew that we were not alone. I could almost audibly hear Jesus saying to his early 21st–century disciples: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) And we all stood motionless and in silence. We were not sure Jesus was finished speak-ing to us. It was a moment I shall never forget or fully comprehend.Francis and his wife, Commissioner Marilyn D. Francis (see next page) recently retired from active service.

Shock, Then Extraordinary Peace by Commissioner William W. Francis

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Leaders pray on Sept. 12. Inset: Then–Colonel William Francis with a police officer.



Two memories still haunt me to this day. One is the sight of my beloved husband, who was then chief sec-

retary in the USA Eastern Territory, coming home after his visit to Ground Zero. He was covered with ash from the soot of burning bodies and concrete. He had ashen clothes and an ashen face staring straight ahead. He had a lamp in one hand and a letter from a secretary, just written; both had been hanging in a tree. My Colonel Bill never spoke to me as I pried the items out of his filthy hands and carefully removed his clothing and shoes. He went into the shower and finally came back to reality from that stupor of a “seeing–but–not–believing” state. He emerged clean and together we discussed the way forward.

The other memory is from the morgue at New York Medical Center. The doctors and nurses were bloody from their tedious labor of testing body parts—some smaller than a thumb—for DNA. All of a sudden as I stood there, a nurse named Elaine left her doctor and ran over from one of the tarp–covered platforms. She was sobbing hard. I caught her in my arms and held her as she cried. And she looked into my eyes and said, “Will there ever be HOPE again?”

Being a minister, I did my job. I prayed with Elaine, and she went back into her open tent, smiling at me with eyes that made me think she trusted this Salvation Army lady when I told her, “Yes, dear! Hope is all we have! Yes! Hope is yet alive for our New York City!’

‘hope is all we have!’ by Commissioner Marilyn D. Francis

Shock, Then Extraordinary Peace by Commissioner William W. Francis

Debris and thick dust from the Towers blanket a sidewalk.

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On Sept. 12, I accompanied one of our EDS teams down to Ground Zero to take pictures and collect

stories for circulation to the media and other Salvation Army units. As we made the left turn onto West Side High-way, I saw crowds of people lining both sides of the road. The people, seeing

The Salvation Army shield on the side of our van, began clapping, cheering, and chanting furiously, like we were part of some ticker–tape parade. The noise was thunderous and seemed to increase the farther downtown we drove. We were cheered all the way to the site by people so appreciative of every symbol of

help they saw during those early hours and days following the tragedy. It was a simple but moving and sobering moment that left a powerful impression on me.

Speranza is director of publications for the Greater New York Division.

Cheering for the helpers by Ken Speranza

I remember very clearly on the second day I was just at the very edge of the Pit and all the workers were yelling,

“Run, run!” and I didn’t look back. I didn’t know I could run so fast, but I remember clasping my laminated ID

in my hands, thinking that if I were to die, maybe they could identify my body through that ID. And as I ran, I had such an incredible peace come over me, and I remember looking heavenward and thinking, “OK, God, if this is it, if this

is my time, then everything is well with my soul, and I’m ready to go.” Shotzberger, now retired, was a chaplain at Ground Zero. She told this story on a CBS special, “Hymns of Hope and Healing,” that aired in 2002.

‘It Is Well with My Soul’ by Major Molly Shotzberger

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Ten years later I am still lingering at Ground Zero. The stench of death as The Salvation Army van rolled into

Manhattan. The sun shining despite the dreadful suffering. Determined volunteers standing on the street corners on the West Side Highway, signs held

high with encouraging messages for relief workers. Everyone wanted to do something to help!

The Lord’s Army marching into the site of destruction, saluted by hundreds of police officers, firefighters, and EMS personnel. Called and enrolled a soldier

in that army, I knew there the heart of God bleeding for the masses. His Son, crucified, so that the message of redemp-tion could reach out into this complete roughness, into the dust and gravel, into the darkness and despair. Within the taste of death, from the smells, the dust

Lingering at Ground Zero by Captain Margareta Ivarsson

Note from a police captain:When I was hungry you gave me something to eat.

When I was thirsty you gave me something to drink. When my feet hurt you made me smile.

Thank you, Salvation Army!

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on our clothes and in between our teeth, hope emerged, strong and determined: “He is Risen, indeed!” There I learned my destiny.

Lt. Colonel Damon Rader quietly walking around a half circle of chairs, offering a cup of water and a blanket to cover the shoulders of disillusioned iron workers who had seen the most evil possible with their own eyes and were completely at loss for words. His hands on their shoulders, His presence in their grief, I saw Jesus in his servant, Colonel Rader. Quietly, a few words shared. Someone said, “You, know, we build things! We don’t tear apart and cut down piles of destruction....” Out of that cry, a conversation emerged, a crisis

intervention with us serving as a mirror for their grief. Tools offered—words, considerations—as a first step in a process of healing, in making sense of the senseless. And there was God. They said, “That’s just it! This is why we feel this way. We do not have crisis training. We don’t know how to process death!” From there, they went back to the Pit for another shift of labor, with hopes to do their part in making sense of the senseless.

Some had been working for days and nights without getting out of their shoes. Post–traumatic stress evident. Conversa-tions rare. Hurting eyes and aching feet. Our plea to them: “Would you offer us five minutes of your time, sit down and

take off your shoes, please?” What an odd request! Some, quite taken back, agreed. There we washed feet with wet wipes, provided ointment and band–aids for bleeding wounds, new socks, new steel boots in exchange for the ones whose rubber soles had been burned on the pile.

There, conversations emerged, even an occasional smile and quiet laughter. A glimpse of hope for restoration. Together we are strong. As feet were healing, hearts were touched by the love of the risen Christ.

Ivarsson works in the program secretary’s office at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.


The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) worked hand in hand with The Salvation Army in the area surrounding Ground Zero in the months following 9/11. Mickey Caison, disaster relief coordinator for the North American Mission Board of the SBC, shares his memories.

The Office of Emergency Manage-ment and the FEMA Volunteer Agency liaison asked whether the

Southern Baptists would agree to clean apartments near Ground Zero. After much discussion, I decided that we would ask our volunteers to help.

The NYC Health Department gave us special vacuum cleaners to aid in removing dust from the apartments in lower Manhattan. We traveled to the mayor’s office, where the Health Depart-ment office was located. We carried four very large boxes down to the street, and I waited while my partner went to get the van. Soon a NYC police officer appeared. He was very insistent that the boxes and I could not be on the sidewalk.

After a few very tense minutes, the officer noticed the Southern Baptist Convention Disaster Relief logo on my jacket. He asked if I was a Christian brother. I responded that indeed I was. He thanked me for coming and helping. The van soon appeared and we loaded the boxes. As we closed the hatch, I asked, “What is your story?”

The officer responded, “My wife died three days before the towers fell, and I was at home, or I would have been with the three officers from this building who

went down to help. They were killed when the towers fell.”

My heart broke to know that this officer was dealing with the grief of his wife’s death and the guilt of not being with his fellow officers when they were killed! Of course, we prayed with this man. Over the past 10 years, I have prayed for this dear Christian brother

many times and wondered how he ad-justed to life without his wife and fellow officers.

The Taj MahalMajor Dave Dalberg [national EDS director for The Salvation Army] and I spoke frequently about our operations in NYC. Soon after the Army began a

Southern Baptists called to help by Mickey Caison

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feeding operation at Ground Zero, we discussed a partnership using Southern Baptist volunteers to assist. Soon vol-unteers from both organizations were working together out of a truck parked in the middle of West Street.

After a few weeks city leaders and The Salvation Army established a very large tent nearby to provide feeding and a respite center for Ground Zero work-ers. Volunteers prepared food provided by many restaurants in Manhattan. Thousands of meals were served in the tent nicknamed the Taj Mahal.

Many wonderful stories were told as volunteers from both organizations ministered together for the next nine months.

Fresh Kills landfill Another sight etched in my mind is the first time I traveled to the Salvation

Army site on Staten Island. I became lost in the large complex. As I tried to find the feeding tent, I came upon the storage site for vehicles damaged as the towers fell. I wept as I thought of the hundreds of men and women who were killed and injured when the towers fell.

As I composed myself and resumed my search, I was confronted by an im-age of workers standing at large, long conveyer belts looking for remains. What a very difficult job that is, I thought.

Then I entered the tent to discover volunteers demonstrating, once again, wonderful Christlike love. They were not just serving food but also spending time with each worker. They were the hands and feet of Christ in a very dif-ficult situation.

Yes, there are many sights, sounds, and smells from those fateful days that are not pleasant to remember. But this

year’s 9/11 anniversary, for me, will be like the other nine. I will choose to remember the work of thousands of volunteers who went to New York to demonstrate God’s love, as expressed by Jesus the Christ, as they comforted the grieving, gave rest to the weary, washed the feet of those working at a labor of love, and cleaned the remnants of those terrible moments from the homes of those who today still look upon the New York skyline.

Coming Alongsideby Major George Polarek

What a marvelous ministry the Southern Baptists performed at all the Sal-

vation Army sites! I remember one elderly volunteer

who didn’t know what to do, so we put her in front of a hydration sta-tion, and she treated everybody like her son. She would grab you by the ear and say, ‘Don’t get by here with-out washing your hands.’ And they would say, ‘Yes, Mom’; they would do whatever ‘Mom’ said.

Another Southern Baptist volun-teer we put inside one of the hydra-tion stations, which were located literally at the edge of the Pit. It was this woman’s responsibility to take the workers’ shoes and socks off and give them fresh socks and boots. The Pit was so hot that even the soles of brand–new boots would melt in two to three days.

Well, this volunteer decided to bring a pitcher of water in to wash the men’s feet. This one fireman said to me, ‘I want you to know what this woman has been doing for us, and what she did for me.’

The day before, just before coming to the station, he had been so excited because he had found what he believed to be a fireman under the rubble.

‘There’s a boot!’ he shouted. And he called everybody. Then, come to find out, it was just the boot, just the foot. His chief told him to take some time, go over to The Salvation Army and get some refreshment. And when he arrived, this woman washed his feet. That’s when he broke down and cried.Polarek was incident commander for The Salvation Army at Ground Zero.

Mickey Caison briefs volunteers before leaving for New York.


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A construction man, probably a little overweight, digging through dirt, all of a sudden finds this little

tunnel, manages to poke his head into it and see what we believe was a divine answer to prayers that we had been making throughout the time that we were at Ground Zero: “Oh, God, show us your presence; show us you’re here; show us how you’re going to redeem this pit.”

Suddenly, the construction worker comes out of this little tunnel scream-ing, “Wait ’til you see what I found! And he pulls in ministers and officials and shows them this cross. It’s fully extend-ed, melted together with the intensity of the heat. The two beams were never initially part of the same structure. Heat had melted them together, and the piece of metal draped over it was molten metal that had fallen over one of the arms.

So when everybody saw this, the first thing we did was cry, and the second thing we did was go into worship, a marvelous moment of worship.

Everything stopped. Construction vehicles stopped. All the digging out of dirt—it all stopped.

We looked at the cross; we fell to our knees; and we thanked God because at that moment it seemed as though God was just placing His arms around us and saying, “This Pit is mine. I will redeem this Pit. I will redeem the lives of the people who are in this Pit.” And the message I received that particular day was no matter how large the pit is, how deep or how wide or how long, whatever pit it is that we live in, God is there to redeem it. If He’s in it here at Ground Zero with the World Trade Center, how much more can He do it for the world and for us!

Major George Polarek, incident com-mander at Ground Zero, told this story on a CBS TV special, “Hymns of Hope and Healing” that aired in 2002. He was speaking about the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

At the Crossby Dave Johnson

I attended a worship service by that cross found in the rubble. Some family members were there

who had lost loved ones. One lady seemed very upset and mad at God for letting this happen, yet here she was at the worship service looking for answers. She was sobbing and looking for a shoulder to cry on. Well, that shoulder was mine.

A million things went on in my head as to how to handle this. I had never experienced an emotion this big. The only things that came out of my mouth were that it was OK, I am here for you, and God loves you. Her tears and my hug was all she needed; I held her for what seemed like a long time. Then my work was done, and she thanked me for giv-ing her some precious time. To this day, I remember this lady and pray that she has had a new commitment with Christ.

Johnson is assistant social services director in Minnesota’s Twin Cities area.

‘I will redeem this Pit’

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Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits …who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion. —Psalm 103:2,4


When the Miami Disaster Team left from the airport, it was under extreme guarded condition. The

National Guard stood every 100 feet with M–16s. There were guard dogs and people had to strip to get through the checkpoints. Everyone was tense, stressed out, not knowing if another at-tack was going to happen in New York, let alone at home, where we were leav-ing our families behind.

We were sitting in the waiting area outside our boarding gate, and the pilot came out and walked around, looking at everyone. He walked over to our team and said, “Salvation Army. If something happens, I can count on you guys to watch my back.”

We all said, “Of course.” At that point, you could see the tension just leave his face and body. He turned and entered the hallway and walked down to the plane. We all looked at each other, then we all said a prayer, not only for our trip but also for everyone.

Ford is supervisor of the Salvation Army’s Miami Area Command.

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Miami Airport Encounter by Rick Ford

‘What Do You Need?’ by Majors William & Joan Bode

We had the privilege of meeting, encouraging, witnessing to, and praying with many people at

Ground Zero. A transit official, whose mother

worked for The Salvation Army in upstate New York, did anything he

could to help us. When the rains threatened to come down and [soak] all our supplies, he asked if we needed a tent.

Before long, a truckload of lumber arrived and an army of police cadets from the academy framed a tent and

then used tarps to cover our entire area. When our generator died and we didn’t know what to do, this same man arrived shortly afterward with a huge generator and gave it to us.

A truck driver from Toledo, Ohio, ar-rived with a semi full of supplies. It was

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I remember serving from our Salvation Army canteen truck by Foxworthy’s Restaurant just around the corner

from the Pit. My team was on the mid-night shift, and New York City surely took on an eerie feel. Coupled with the devastation and ruin, there were no mobs of people on the sidewalks and there were no lights! The city that never sleeps was in a state of darkness. The walls of the buildings where we served were all strangely gray. On a closer look, we could see graffiti messages. Night after night, more messages appeared.

“NYC, we love you!” “Fire Dept. of Buf-falo sends their love & prayers.” When I went over to see how this was done, I realized these messages were made by fingers drawing in the thick coat of dust covering the walls. The walls were not gray after all, but black glass, or fancy gray marble with brass trim. The expres-sions of love were drawn by human hands, by the very servants who had come from near and far to lend help and hope. I thought carefully before I left my own message: “God’s peace be with us all—TSA Niagara Falls.”

Those messages are long gone now, washed away by the rains of heaven and the cleaning crews of New York. Many of the people who left those messages are still here, forever changed, with a fervent purpose to continue to offer help and hope where there is need. And when we look to God, we find He is the one who still brings His peace to the troubled heart.

Major Gregory Hartshorn is divisional secretary for the Southern New England Division.

Graffiti Messages by Major Gregory Hartshorn

exactly what we needed to keep serving in those early days when supplies were low. He said he couldn’t get through the security line. I took my Salvation Army “gator” and escorted the truck into Ground Zero, where cadets helped us unload.

God blessed us, and we look forward to meeting many of our friends again, if not on this earth, then in heaven.The Bodes led a team from Massachusetts that arrived at Ground Zero on Sept. 14. They are now divisional leaders in Western Pennsylvania.

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I was assigned as one of the chaplains at the New York City Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (OCME,

aka the Morgue). There was a temporary site at the World Trade Center (Ground Zero), but then it was decided to move all operations to the main facility at East 30th Street, Manhattan.

The Salvation Army played an important role in providing meals and

snacks to the fire departments, law enforcement personnel, and ME staff. The role of chaplain was to be on–site support to these people, who were work-ing 12–hour shifts.

One of the most striking memories of my tour of duty was when bodies or parts of bodies were found at Ground Zero and transported to the East 30th Street facility. It didn’t matter who was

found, but once [remains were] located and identified, there would be a call to the OCME. A chaplain on–site at Ground Zero would be called and an honor guard set in place. The remains would be transferred to the OCME by motorcade. Once the motorcade arrived, all personnel would form another line of honor. A final salute was given. In that solemn moment, as the remains were transported from vehicle to gurney, a chaplain would be called to say a prayer.

Major Carl Ruthberg is Conference Center director at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.

The first day I was at the morgue, I was giving some assistance on the canteen and a woman walked up to

me and asked where she could get some help. I told her that maybe I could help, and she just broke down. She shared with me that she had seen the whole thing—both planes hitting the build-ings—and she couldn’t get them out of her head. When she fell asleep, she saw the images; when she just walked around, she saw the images. She could not get them out of her mind, and it was driving her crazy. She was crying all the time. And she needed to talk to someone to help her try to get rid of the images.

We sat down on two milk crates and I was able to talk to her for a few minutes. I prayed with her and when she left, she seemed to feel a little better and

At the Medical Examiner’s Office

Majors Molly Shotzberger, Cheryl Miller, and Carl Ruthberg pray together. They all served as chaplains at the medical examiner’s office.

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thanked me for my time. I’m sorry I can’t give you absolute assurance that she walked away back to normal. But I have assurance that God heard my prayer and that He went with her from that spot.

Major Cheryl Miller is a retired officer living in Clearwater, Fla.

The flags! I remember the flags. One morning while I was serving at the morgue, a police officer came

up to me and asked if I could get him some flags, the largest ones I could find.

I immediately phoned Greater New York Divisional Headquarters with the request. Within a couple of hours the delivery was made. I walked down the side street adjacent to the morgue and handed the package over to the officer who had made the request. A little while later he came up to me and said to follow him; he wanted to show me something. As I walked down that same street, I saw them—the flags. They were waving in the breeze as they hung over the refrigerated trucks at the end of the street. After the identification process,

the bodies and human remains found at the World Trade Center were gently and delicately placed in the trucks. I will always remember the words the police officer spoke as we stood there with tears in our eyes. With his voice cracking and his hand over his heart, he said, “These souls will rest with honor.”

Major Molly Shotzberger is a retired officer living in Fredericksburg, Pa.

Major Kathleen Bearcroft, a chaplain at the medical examiner’s office, is recognized for her service.

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One night a fireman came to the Army’s nearest site to Ground Zero, where I was working, to ask

me to pray, in the absence of the fire chaplain, for one of his fallen comrades, whose body they had just recovered from the rubble. He obviously knew we were praying people, perhaps from observing how often we prayed with rescue workers going into and coming out of the Pit. Everything during those days prompted us to pray, and I came closer to literally praying without ceasing than at any time in my life.

So I immediately went with him.When we arrived, the man’s covered body was being held on a stretcher by firemen who, I believe, knew him. It seemed to me that there were more of them holding the body than were needed to bear the weight, presumably because they wanted hands–on partici-pation in acknowledging and honoring the sacrifice of their dead brother. There was nothing routine about this; it was intensely personal and painful for the men, and I felt their unexpressed grief. The feverish rescue work had temporar-

ily stopped out of respect, and it was relatively quiet. Standing among those strong, courageous men and lifting them all to the Father in prayer was a sacred privilege I will long remember.

The body was lovingly placed in a refrigerated truck nearby that served as a mobile morgue, and the hazardous, heartbreaking work then resumed.

Rader is a retired Salvation Army officer living in Wilmore, Ky. He is a member of the Order of the Founder, the highest honor that can be accorded a Salvationist.

Honoring the Fallen by Lt. Colonel Damon Rader

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A Personal Attack by Major Hollie Ruthberg

As a New Yorker stationed in New York City at the time of the World Trade Center Disaster on Sept. 11,

2001, I took that attack personally. So did everyone in the city, in the area, in the United States, and for the most part, the world.

This was not something that hap-pened far away or long ago to someone else; this happened to me. It was my space, my skyline, my city, my country, and my world that was violated. In the same way I would feel victimized if someone broke into my home or if someone mugged me, I felt betrayed and misused. How dare we treat each other this way?

When the news came to me, I was

alone in our apartment preparing to head to Divisional Headquarters on an errand. Our son called from his honey-moon in disbelief and frightened for my safety. Switching on the TV, I saw the second tower hit and realized that somehow our world had changed. The phone rang, and I was asked to report to Divisional Headquarters on West 14th Street and be ready for whatever was required of me.

There was not a moment’s hesitation. There was not a thought of “let me escape to the safety of the hills.” Not knowing if I would come back, there was still no decision to make. Of course I would go. I took my toothbrush, ID, and family photos just in case this was it. I

left a new message on the phone that told everyone I loved them and walked out the door.

Would the Empire State Building be next? The Statue of Liberty? Would planes just keep flying into buildings all around the city every 10 minutes? How planned was this? My knee–jerk reac-tion matched the vast majority of the knee–jerk reactions in this country and around the world. I wanted to be there helping. I wanted to pass out water, sort socks, offer a hand and a smile and a prayer. I wanted to say, with my life, that sanity and hope remained. That there might be craziness and violence and de-struction, but that it stops here with me.

People around the world would have given anything to be in my position as a first responder. Volunteers poured in, determined to be allowed to help— doctors with skills, businessmen ready to dig through the rubble with their bare hands, children offering a teddy bear. The firefighters who ran up the stairs of the towers as office workers ran down symbolize the vast majority of us. Let me get in there and help. Let me be on the list of people doing the right thing. Let me say no to this tragedy.

Ten years later, by the grace of God, it is still personal. Time does not heal, but love does. I will live on the side of goodness.

Ruthberg works in women’s ministries at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.

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The Restaurant Revitalization Pro-gram was a marvelous idea that was instituted with Whitsons Catering.

Whitsons was and still remains the major vendor used to feed all the social services programs that we have here in Greater New York throughout the 10 counties.

When the incident happened, of course, on the very first day, the city called The Salvation Army and said, “Can you provide 40,000 meals or sand-wiches by tomorrow?” And of course, we decided that Whitsons would be the people we called.

Eventually, we got to the point where we began using restaurants in that local

area because we knew if we didn’t, those restaurants would die. Around those 16 acres of land, there had been 1,000 res-taurants. A thousand restaurants, now out of business. We were able to use the food from at least 250 to 300 of those restaurants, which brought into Ground Zero, at the Taj Mahal tent, the very best food that New York had to offer. We were also able to pay the restaurants a specific charge for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, whatever their specialties were. That enabled them in turn to hire back their own employee staff.

So The Salvation Army was not only able to feed people at Ground Zero, but we were also able to keep restaurants

open. We were able to keep employees working and eventually allow volunteers to go into the very restaurants that were remaining open to continue pumping income and dollars into that area.

Polarek was the incident commander at Ground Zero. He now serves as area com-mander in Syracuse, N.Y.

Reviving Restaurantsby Major George Polarek

Restaurant Screening, Selection, Food Deliveries and Volunteer Services

24–hour service provided

4 Meals per day served at the Taj Mahal tent

100% supported by World Trade Center donations

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Inside the Taj Mahal in December 2001.



The weekend after the attack, I volun-teered at Ground Zero working on a Salvation Army canteen to supply

dry clothes and hot food to the rescue workers. Before we arrived at the site, I helped unload a truck of donated sup-plies at the Greater New York Division. One cooler was full of sandwiches made by fifth–grade students from a school in Wisconsin.

While working the canteen, I noticed more sandwiches made by kids of all different grade levels from all over the country. I also helped serve men and women from a great multitude of fire and rescue companies from around the country. The one that really sticks in

my head was the San Francisco Fire Department. Not only did they bring themselves, but they also bought their own gear. I also met a lot of young Na-tional Guardsmen. I very much enjoyed making hot chocolate for their entire platoon on a cold morning.

It really amazed me that under such dire circumstances and in the aftermath of such a horrific event, so many came together from all races, creeds, genders, and ages and helped.

Conklin is a trust supervisor in the Finance Department at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y.

Food Facts

Sandwiches and Hot Chocolateby Jay Conklin

Restaurant Screening, Selection, Food Deliveries and Volunteer Services

24–hour service provided

4 Meals per day served at the Taj Mahal tent

100% supported by World Trade Center donations

Salvation Army, together withWhitsons Catering, provides:

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A few weeks following 9/11, I received a call from the territorial commander’s office indicating that General John

Gowans (who had just arrived from Lon-don) would like to see the the work that the Army was carrying out at Liberty State Park in New Jersey. I was instructed to find a van and be ready to take the General’s party to the Park so we could make a noon appointment with some high–ranking officials. The only problem was that it was now 10:45! With so little time left, I called the state police from New York and New Jersey to lead us to the park.

With the General’s party in the ve-hicle, we met the New York state trooper at the Garden State Parkway entrance, and his only words were, “Stay with me, Major.” Off we went, with the General next to me and a happy chattering group

in the three seats behind me. At the border, we were handed over to a New Jersey trooper, whose only words were—you guessed it—“Stay with me, Major!” At speeds exceeding 85 mph, we weaved in and out of traffic and finally ended up on the inside shoulder, and yes, I did receive many “salutes” from the drivers we went around—some of them not fun salutes!

After about 15 minutes at this pace, I noticed that there was no chatter from the others in the vehicle and the pull on my headrest told me that a certain chief secretary was intent on where we were going. The General, sitting next to me, was saying no words, but I felt his intensity and saw a drop of sweat on his cheek. Well, we did make it in time for the event! The trooper came back to the van. As I was prying my hands from the

steering wheel, he said, “Not bad driving, Major.” The General’s parting remark as he looked at me was, “WOW!” Needless to say, God’s grace is sufficient even in the times of dark humor!Miller is retired and living in Clearwater, Fla.; he was community relations and devel-opment director for the Eastern Territory at the time of the attacks.

‘Stay with me, Major’ by Major Gary Miller

A Job to Do by Major Sharon Polarek

I will never forget one man. He would crawl into crevices or small holes at Ground Zero to look for bodies. One day, he came up to our canteen

very exhausted and sat down, and I encouraged one of our volunteers to go and bring him some water. And then the next thing we did was to bring him a chair so that he could become a little bit more comfortable instead of sitting up against a cement slab.

Then he started talking, and we of-fered to make him a bed. With what we had, we made him a bed on the back of a

truck. He was about to lie down to take a few moments of rest when an ambulance came up the road, and they thought they had found someone alive.

He looked at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, “I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to get back to the pile. I have a job to do, and they’re depending on me.”

Polarek volunteered on canteens for several weeks and continued to work at Ground Zero in various capacities until May 2002.

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Below: General John Gowans visits the Pit, hosted by Colonel William Francis.



Most of my conversations were with police officers.

I heard them say, “Being a po-lice officer is more than a job. When you punch out, this job isn’t over.”

“I don’t feel bad for myself. I’m OK. I feel bad for those who are lost.”

“Why do people have to take so many pictures here?”

“I have two kids, a 1–year–old daugh-ter and a 4–year–old son. Before I leave home, my son says, ‘You gonna get the bad guys, Daddy? Gonna give ’em time-out?’ ”

“Every morning when I leave the Long Island Expressway to get onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, there is

a toll booth. I have to turn and look at the skyline. It’s so different that it’s an eerie reminder of what happened.”

“I’ve sworn to protect this city, and if it goes down, then I go down with it.”

“I was absolutely terrified for two weeks after it happened, but I knew I had to stay strong for the city.”

One officer had an urgent look on his face. He looked at me, and I looked at him. I thought, “Well, either he wants to be alone, or he needs someone to talk to.” I sat down across from him. He started talking and talking:

“Do you realize that people jumped from the top of those towers because the heat was too strong?” My throat started

to get a little tighter when he reminded me of that.

He went on to say, “I lost a good friend. He lived down the street and we were friends since grammar school.”

When our conversation ended, I felt I had failed to bring it to some sort of positive end. I almost wanted to run after him, and try to say something more comforting. I decided to let it go, since there weren’t any pat answers to give.

Harvey, corps officer in Ridgway, Pa., spent a ‘life–changing’ 12 days serving at Ground Zero in October 2001. For his full report, go to www.prioritypeople.org.

Conversations with Police by Captain Scott Harvey

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The Bronx Tremont Corps serves near Ground Zero.


To me, a volunteer in the recovery effort in New York City for The Salvation Army, it all comes down

to two sets of eyes.I had just finished a delivery to a Sal-

vation Army’s rest area at Ground Zero when I saw the first set of eyes. The man’s huge forklift was sliding under a late model Honda covered with the dust that had blanketed the area for blocks when the towers fell. On its window someone had written some let-

ters and numbers with a grease pencil. I did not understand the code, but I knew it meant that the owner would not be coming back for that car. The forklift operator’s eyes, slightly closed, stared at the Honda. He did not want this job. He did not want to be anywhere near this place of destruction; his eyes told you that. They were not hard–set and stoic but pleading. They showed how much he wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out. They were tired and didn’t know where to turn. Then there was the other set of eyes. The Salvation Army officer was at Pier 94, a place set up to help families, sitting in a folding chair behind a cheap eight–foot table like you see at a church supper. Across from her was a small Hispanic woman with her two young children. They had come to The Salva-tion Army because they had no place else to go.

I was about to turn away when I noticed the officer’s eyes. They glanced at the piles of paper-work and lingered on what she was writing but always returned to the family in need. They looked deep into the eyes of that poor mother. They called to her eyes and seemed to say, “There is still hope.” They were tired, but they had the steel and determination of a soldier, yet the compassion of an angel. As she arranged to help that poor woman with her rent, those eyes almost smiled.

Two sets of eyes. The pain and the peace. The hurt and the hope. This Sept. 11, maybe I’ll go to a church meet-ing and pray for both of those nameless people. Perhaps I’ll pray for myself and wonder what people see when they look into my eyes.Garrington works in planned giving for The Salvation Army in central Illinois and eastern Iowa.

Two Sets of Eyes by Steve Garrington

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At Pier 94by Lorraine Rischawy

I was waiting in line to be checked through security one morning. In front of me on the line were

eight or ten men from Mexico in orange jumpsuits. They were check-ing in to be deployed to Ground Zero (and get new work boots; the soles of theirs had melted from the previous day’s work). One turned around and smiled at me when he noticed my badge said The Salva-

tion Army. They all turned around and told me that they HAD to come and help. In Mexico City, they had just suffered horrific floods, and The Salvation Army had been there and had helped many of them. We formed a big circle, prayed together and hugged each other and cried for quite some time. Nothing much needed to be said. We had been helping each other.Rischawy now works in planned giving for the New Jersey Division.

For reservations call theHealing and Remembrance Hotline

1-866-212-0444

in partnership with the Mental Health Association's"9-11 Healing & Remembrance" program

welcomes families of victims, survivors, first responders and 9-11 volunteersto a live simulcast of the

NATIONAL MEMORIAL SERVICESunday, September 11, 2011, open from 8:00 am to 1:00 pm

at the Centennial Memorial Temple -120 West 14th Street in New York City


1-866-212-0444



GNY ANNOUCEMENTSAD


1-866-212-0444

in partnership with the Mental Health Association's"9-11 Healing & Remembrance" program

welcomes families of victims, survivors, first responders and 9-11 volunteersto a live simulcast of the

NATIONAL MEMORIAL SERVICESunday, September 11, 2011, open from 8:00 am to 1:00 pm

at the Centennial Memorial Temple -120 West 14th Street in New York City


1-866-212-0444

I was assigned by The Salvation Army to coordinate the 17–acre Ground Zero site, and I chose to take the

night duty, as I was not interested in dealing with the politicians and the movie actors who frequented [during] the day, and I wanted to be part of the serving of the firefighters, police officers, and volunteers under the big tent.

We saw a lot during the night; it was just as busy as the day. One chilly evening as we were attempting to stay warm, we heard a great deal of commo-tion outside the tent, and I went out to see what it was all about.

There was a cargo van that had been detained by the military police right outside the tent as they were endeavor-ing to get into the Ground Zero site, where the ground was anywhere from 1,000–1,500 degrees and would burn the soles off boots.

The intentions [of the bombers] were that they would leave the cargo van, filled with gunpowder, to create still another explosion. However, they were stopped by the military police, and the cargo van was confiscated before they could do any additional damage.

Sjogren is divisional commander of the Northern Division in the Army’s Central Territory.

‘Night Duty’ by Lt. Colonel Daniel Sjogren

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When Alton Gardner would sit down to eat with firefighters and police working in the Pit,

the conversation would suddenly stop. Gardner wasn’t a “brother.” However, he had brought someone with him who was: John Soos, a Salvation Army volunteer and the deputy fire chief from Oklahoma City.

The New York City police and fire personnel wanted to talk to Soos about his experience after the 1995 bombing in Oklahoma City. They had heard that several emergency personnel who served there had committed suicide. Soos had told them that wasn’t true but that many had needed counseling.

Soos suggested that Gardner arrange to have fire and police personnel who responded to the Oklahoma City bombing come to New York. Through his Salvation Army connections, Gardner arranged for 25–30 police and firefighters from Oklahoma City to visit New York City.

“When they came back, they told me they got more out of that than the people that had received them,” Gardner said. “They said it was the greatest expe-rience of their lives, to get to go up there and talk to their brother firemen.”

Gardner, who was previously in Prior-ity! for his work in Iraq for The Salvation Army, said he saw people mature as lead-ers while he was in New York, but he saw something much more important.

“I saw the people who were there at the Pit lined up to accept Jesus Christ as their Savior,” he said.

“Everything we did there was inspira-tional. When you’re walking on ground where you know 2,714 souls were lost … you know you are walking on hallowed ground.”

Mitchell interviewed Gardner. Now retired, Gardner was the Salvation Army’s disaster director for the Arkansas and Oklahoma Division in the Southern Territory. He also served at the Pentagon site.

A ‘Brother’ from Oklahoma City by Robert Mitchell

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In my assignment as a chaplain at Ground Zero, I built a relationship with a police officer who said he had

not spent any significant time at home in over four months. He was so caught up into the recovery that his marriage was suffering.

I asked him if, in the week he had come to know me, he had come to feel he could trust me. His response was yes. So I asked him if he would do a favor for me. He again said yes. So I asked him to take the next day, after his kids were off to school, and take his wife out on a date. Give her the day.

Two days later he arrived at the feed-ing site looking for me. He had a huge smile on his face, and he proceeded to tell me what a great day he and his wife had together. “Major, you may have saved my marriage!” My response was that he was the one who would save his marriage, and that Jesus cared about his family. Terrorists had destroyed enough families. There was no reason that they should continue to ruin lives by destroy-ing him and his wife.

Walter is corps officer in Erie, Pa.

Marriage Counseling by Major Leslie A. Walter

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If you wanted to thank someone, give them a handshake of thanks, more than not, they wouldn’t accept a

handshake. It became a Ground Zero hug. I mean, some of the guys who just looked like they were meant for the mountains, they were the guys who were just pulling you in and sort of picking you up off your feet and saying, “With-out you, we couldn’t do this.” Those kinds of comments, those kinds of hugs, were an enormous benefit, I think, emotionally, not only to the people who served there in uniform, but to the vol-unteers and the Salvation Army people who volunteered on a daily basis as well.

Polarek was incident commander at Ground Zero.

Ground Zero Hug by Major George Polarek


By Friday or Saturday of the first week of my service, I was thinking that I was handling the situation

fairly well emotionally. But on Sunday, Palm Sunday, I began to feel weepy, especially as we had Palm Sunday mass performed by a Roman Catholic priest outdoors under the girder cross at the north end of the pit. That following Thursday, Maundy Thursday, I walked to the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church for its service, where I contem-plated the different experiences of Palm Sunday and Maundy Thursday. Even now, when I think of the magnitude of the human loss, I feel grief.

The day before I was scheduled to leave, the Salvation Army Command Center called those of us who were leaving to attend a debriefing meeting. I thought that they wanted to know how everything went as related to the work and if we had any suggestions. That was NOT what they wanted to discuss. They wanted to know how we were doing emotionally and to give us help and sug-gestions on dealing with our emotions and grief when we returned home.

Sullivan is an advisory board member for The Salvation Army in Evanston, Ill., who volunteered at Ground Zero for two weeks, from March 18–30, 2002. For Tom’s complete account, go to www.prioritypeople.org.

Grief during Holy Week by Tom Sullivan

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I remember in the dining area seeing a firefighter so distraught that he sat with his head in his hands trying to come to grips with the loss of fellow firefighters as well as other friends and family members. I sat next to him, not really knowing what to say but in my own way just praying that God would help him to deal with the tragedy and find strength for each

new day. I observed him each day as he worked tirelessly at the pit to help recover bodies. Every time a body was recovered, we prayed right there at the pit, which indeed became holy ground. I know that life for those rescue workers, firefighters, and family and friends who lost loved ones through such tragedy will never be the same, but I do know that our Heavenly Father is more than able to give to each one what they need for such a time as this.

May serves as a corps officer in Steubenville, Ohio.

One Firefighter by Major Earline May©

AP


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The New Jersey Division operated a full–service site at Liberty State Park.

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Taken from report by Al Peck in Janu-ary 2002 and from Diana Lopez, social services director in Greater New York

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The Army also served at Staten Island’s Fresh Kills landfill.

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Hope Piercing The dark by Karen Hulteen

Faith has always been central to my life, along with the belief that living faith is inseparable from service.

The longing to do something concrete and personal made it easy for my hus-band, John, and me to respond to the appeal for volunteer counselors to serve at part of the Salvation Army’s Emer-gency Disaster Relief Team at Ground Zero.

We were privileged to serve at the edge of the Pit. In March 2002, on the six–month anniversary of the terrorist attacks, two beautiful, powerful beams of blue light stretched as a memorial toward the heavens, illuminating, pierc-ing the darkness—just as the Salvation Army’s support of the recovery and rebuilding was answering the horror of deliberate destruction and murder.

We worked in a large, well–lighted tent and later in a small, wooden hydra-tion station.… Once, John lingered in the Pit until 4 a.m. while the body parts of two firefighters and one police officer were removed; he prayed with the widow and child of one of the victims as an honor guard provided a respectful salute

and escort up the ramp. I mingled with hundreds of workers, some of whom had been at the site from the beginning, fatigued by 12–hour days, six to seven days a week and visibly affected by the strain of unearthing evidence of unfathomable loss. My mind swims with the visions of faces of families and fel-low volunteers, all with stories, which I recorded in a journal.

Probably the most moving story for me was that of a police officer who, as one of the first responders to 9/11, ran to his car to get his helmet and inhaler—he was asthmatic, and the smoke and dust were causing a reaction. In the 10 minutes he left the scene, one of the towers toppled. His partner was killed. Besides the grief and guilt, this man had also emerged with a belief that his life had been spared for a purpose, and that God’s protection and plan were to be revealed. I promised to pray for him.

Hulteen is from Ramsey, Minn. Her hus-band died of lung cancer years after 9/11, possibly from exposure to carcinogens at Ground Zero.

The beams representing the Twin Towers were located just beside the Army’s ‘Taj Mahal’ tent. The Salvation Army had the responsibility of turning the beams on and off each night for 32 days, starting on March 11, 2002.

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Share the Story

In the disaster response world, The Salvation Army is well known for never having an exit plan. That means the

Army is present before, during and after an emergency with no intent to leave. This was especially true after 9/11. The Salvation Army continued providing essential services to devastated businesses, heartbroken families, and a wounded city for over five years, through 2006.

In addition to a continuous presence at Ground Zero, The Salvation Army provided financial and emotional support at the Disaster Assistance Service Center

(DASC), where people could receive services from various nonprofit, city, state and federal agencies/organizations rather than having to go to each agency’s offices. The Salvation Army provided emotional and spiritual care at the Family Assis-tance Center, where people who had lost a loved one at the World Trade Center could go for death–related services.

The Salvation Army also created the World Trade Center Recovery Program, which provided long–term intensive case management to people who had lost family members, their homes, and/or their

jobs. For five years, service coordinators helped people access myriad services and financial assistance, from death benefits to eviction prevention to job training, and more. Support groups were offered as well. The Salvation Army was the last organization to provide 9/11 specific case management in New York City. Those still in need of support at the close of the program were referred to 40 local corps, where officers and soldiers continued to provide support years after 9/11. Lopez is social services director in the Greater New York Division.

On Mother’s Day 2002, we were asked to conduct one of the final meetings for the volunteers at the

site. Wanting to see what remained of the towers, we moved from the Army–run building to the fence surrounding the area that was once the Twin Towers. It was a gray day with a constant drizzle, but many came that morning, including a group of West Point cadets. As we ap-proached, I found myself next to a young cadet with a stonelike stance looking into the spot of devastation.

My first thought was to strike up a

conversation, but his intensity caused me to withhold any small talk. We stood for a few minutes, and I noticed a glistening in his eye. Impulsively I asked, “Did you lose someone here?” to which he replied, “Yes, sir.” Then, after what seemed like an eternity, “My mother, sir. I lost my mother on that day.”

Looking for words of consolation, I suddenly knew I didn’t have any. Having lost my mother just a few years before, I knew somewhat his hurt, We just stood there in the rain, he in his uniform and I in mine. Our hearts were heavy and no

words needed to be said; a small tear on his cheek said it all. “Thank you, sir, for your concern” were the only words he could say. I bowed my head for a prayer of comfort for us both, looked up, and he was gone.

Some things you simply have to leave in God’s hands. He knows the heart—sometimes simple presence is as good as words.

Miller is retired; he served as territorial community relations and development secretary in the days following 9/11.

Mother’s Day 2002 by Major Gary Miller

No Exit by Diana Lopez

9/11 Children’s BookAD


I was at Ground Zero for the wrap–up in late May/early June 2002. In those days I arrived mid–afternoon and

stayed till around midnight. I met many people in various stages of grief—anger, sadness, fear—and even one woman

who had avoided the area and refused to “come and see” until one of those late May nights. She just stood looking out

Pain at the Edge of the Pit by Major Tricia Taube

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The Salvation Army provided Ameri-can flags for all of those individuals who were recovered and brought

out, and Father Andrew and I would do ‘last rites’ by just laying a hand on the remains and saying a prayer.

But in those first few days, we didn’t see God—just death. It was dark; it was dingy; there was no life, no laughter, nothing. Father Andrew stood next to me after two burials we accomplished, and he said, “Look, George, look over there.” There was a priest who was pray-ing with a fireman, and Father Andrew said, “There is God. God is there.”

And over to my right, he pointed to someone else who had a Salvation Army red jacket, with “chaplain” across the shoulders.

He said, “Look, he’s praying with another fireman. God is all around us. You just have to sensitize your eyes to see it in the midst of all the turmoil and destruction.”

Shekinah glory I remember Dr. Nina, a clinical psy-chologist. We stood up near that cross they had found and moved to the west side of the Pit, and as we gathered there,

we were saying goodbye to some of the volunteers. She brought me over to the edge and said, “Take a look.” There were a few hundred men working down there—iron workers, police officers, the firemen—still working down at the lower end of the Pit. And she said, “You know, if you look with sensitive eyes, you will see God’s shekinah glory surround-ing all these people.”

So I realized again that God was re-ally in all of this, protecting people. Not one volunteer died; not one volunteer was really hurt after that initial 9/11 attack.

Polarek (pictured above) talked about these incidents in a taped interview in 2004.

‘There Is God’ by Major George Polarek

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over that vast pit and wept, speaking of her loss and sorrow. However, the person I remember the most was a young firefighter who shared that he had lost his best friend, a fellow firefighter, when the towers collapsed. His pain was so evident that I felt led to encourage him to find others who could not only relate to the loss and the pain he felt but who could point him toward the healing that only faith and trust in Jesus could bring. I had, that very morning, visited Brooklyn Tabernacle and heard an announcement about a police and firefighters’ support group Bible study. I suggested this as an option for this young man. His response was surprise; he told me that his friend had been a believer and had always encouraged him towards an acceptance of Jesus as Savior, and in fact, had invited him many times to his church—Brooklyn Tabernacle. As he prepared to leave, I promised to pray for him, and I often have, hoping that he followed through with his own parting suggestion: “Maybe this is God reminding me that I need to listen to my friend and go and see what He has for me at church.”

Taube is youth and candidates secretary for the Army’s Wisconsin and Upper Michigan Division.


Salvation Army officers march into the Pit alongside other first responders at the closing ceremony on May 30, 2002.



The affectionately called “Taj Mahal” was a haven for everyone involved. It was a refuge The Salvation Army

had set up for people to come and be safe, eat, talk, share, cry, be angry, or just sit quietly. The Salvation Army provided counselors and volunteers 24 hours a day from December 2001 until May 30, 2002, when the last meal was served.

It was then that we realized how wonderful our bond was with the rescue workers because they took the volun-teers’ aprons and became our servers for

the last hot meal together.During the procession out of the Pit,

as the ranks of police, firefighters and construction workers passed the Taj, they showed their gratitude by saluting and putting their fist to their hearts as they passed the Salvation Army officers and volunteers. Everyone was both sur-prised and grateful that they recognized The Salvation Army in such a special way; there were lots of tears at that mo-ment.

Thomas lives in Ocean Springs, Miss.

Saluting the Servants by Debi Thomas

One Year Later by Craig H. Evans

Perhaps my greatest honor was being part of the Honor Guard on the first anniversary of 9/11. I wore the

same uniform shoes that I had worn day after day in lower Manhattan. As I marched down into the Pit, my shoes collected dust from the cavernous hole in the ground. That day, as soon as I

returned home, I sealed those shoes in a plastic bag to remember what had taken place and how my life was changed by unimaginable circumstances. The dust clings to them, as do the memories of those days to my mind.Evans is development director in the Northern New England Division.

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On the opening day, the first day of that event (9/11), we were there to serve a bottle of water, cold water. On the closing day, all we simply did was serve cold water. And the Scripture verse that talks about giving “a cup of cold water in My name” became reality to me. (Matthew 10:42; Mark 9:41) Polarek is social services secretary for the Empire State Division.

A Cup of Cold Water by Major Sharon Polarek

New Jersey DivisionHalf-page AD

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New Jersey DivisionHalf-page AD

The PentagonArlington, VA

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A staff member rushed into my office and said a plane had just crashed into one of the Twin Towers in

New York City. I turned on the TV in my office and watched live as the second plane crashed into the other tower. It wasn’t long after that when the windows on my fifth floor office on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C., began to rattle. I looked out and saw a large mushroom cloud lifting over what I thought was the Pentagon. I turned to my staff as we continued to watch the horror playing out in New York City and said, “We are under attack.”

‘we simply go’“Go to the Pentagon or wherever the smoke is if it’s not the Pentagon,” I said. I was asked later whom I had called to get permission to go onto the Pentagon property. My response was, “We are The Salvation Army. We don’t ask if we can help those in need. We simply go.”

Before the site was locked down and fenced in, we moved two canteen units into place along the west side of the Pentagon only 100 yards from the crash site. Because this was an attack on a government building, it immediately became an FBI crime scene. The more

than 7,000 military troops and rescue personnel who had been deployed could not leave and were on duty 24/7 until the scene was released by the FBI. That’s why so little information was shared about what The Salvation Army was doing to help with the response.

camp unityWe were asked by the Pentagon to set up the recovery area in the south parking lot, later known as Camp Unity. On Wednesday night while we were setting up, I returned from the command center to find a large number of cars in the way. I thought they were the vehicles of some of the rescue personnel, but then we discovered that these were the cars of the victims. We hired several wrecker companies to come in and work through the night to move more than 50 vehicles to the north parking lot, which became the area for all crime scene evidence.

The Salvation Army became the agency responsible to issue photo IDs to all support groups assisting with the response. We had teams from Christ in Action, Tyson’s Chicken, McDonald’s, Burger King, and Outback Steakhouse who volunteered staff, equipment, and supplies to help with feeding 7,000 people three times a day. We also set up spiritual counseling teams to meet with both the families of the victims as well as the soldiers, who were working on their knees and picking through the rubble with their hands.

We set up support for the troops and

Locked Down at the Pentagon by Major Todd Smith

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Major Gene Hogg (center) and Captain Ken Vick (since promoted to Glory) talk with a volunteer.


The Pentagon - Arlington, VA

rescue personnel. For 19 days we pro-vided meals and supplies (gloves, knee pads, shovels, socks, underclothes, etc.).

On Saturday, Sept. 29, the Pentagon closed down the recovery efforts. The following Monday, Oct. 1, we began case management for the thousands of individuals who had become victims. Besides the primary victims, there were secondary victims who had been given pink slips because of the uncertain fu-ture in Washington. All told, more than 18,000 airport workers, hotel workers, and cab drivers lost their jobs because D.C. had become a ghost town. Between Oct. 1, 2001, and June 15, 2002, the Army helped to keep these families from becoming homeless. We spent $10.3 million on mortgage payments, rent, car insurance, home insurance, medical bills, utilities, groceries, etc.

One Middle Eastern man who had lost his job as a cab driver kept promis-ing that he would pay back every penny of the money we gave him to help with his mortgage. It was not until a corps officer, his hand on the man’s shoulder, said to him, “Thousands of Americans have come to your rescue and want to help you” that the man, in broken Eng-lish and with tears in his eyes said, “I get it now. America really does care for all people.”

Where was the Army on Sept. 11, 2001? Right where we needed to be.

Smith was the Salvation Army’s incident commander at the Pentagon.

Major Charles Powell talks with search–and–rescue personnel.


By early afternoon on Sept. 11, our headquarters in Washington, D.C., had notified us that both Esther

and I were to report to the Pentagon site for emergency disaster duty. Esther was assigned to serve as emotional and spiri-tual care officer and I as press liaison.

Late that night we headed north to Arlington. Along the way we stopped for gas and a cup of coffee. I stepped up to pay and heard the attendant say, “Capt, the coffee’s on the house.” I attempted to thank him but he inter-rupted me: “And take this as a gift from me.” He handed me a $20 bill. He said, “You headed to the Pentagon? You going to help people? You’re going to need money; I want to do my part.”

encountering griefWe arrived about 3 a.m. and drove to the Pentagon, which had not yet been fully secured, so access, while difficult, was not yet impossible. As we walked around trying to get our bearings, we saw a woman sitting on a bench and ap-proached her; she was shaking, sobbing, and shivering in the cool September night. We sat with her and heard her sob over and over, “My baby’s in there, my baby’s in there,” as she gestured toward the gaping, fiery hole in the side of one of the world’s most famous and well– built buildings. Only a few words passed between us, but we felt God affirming our efforts at ministry, and each of us discovered the reality of one of the ba-sics of Salvation Army Disaster Services:

‘The Day the Flags Ran Out’ by Lt. Colonels Danny R. and Esther R. Morrow

A band ensemble from the Arlington, Va., Corps leads worship at the site.

Women’s MinistriesHoly Spirit, Let It Rain Down On Me

USA Eastern TerritoryCommissioners R. Steven

and Judith A. HedgrenTerritorial Leaders

www.womensministries-tsa.org“Proclaim freedom all over the land to everyone who lives in it…”Leviticus 25:10

The Women’s Ministries Department of the USA Eastern Territory honors the memory of those who perished on 9–11. We give tribute to those who survived and those who responded in the time of need. May God Bless you all!

go towww.womensministries-tsa.org

come Be a part!



Women’s MinistriesHoly Spirit, Let It Rain Down On Me

USA Eastern TerritoryCommissioners R. Steven

and Judith A. HedgrenTerritorial Leaders

www.womensministries-tsa.org“Proclaim freedom all over the land to everyone who lives in it…”Leviticus 25:10

The Women’s Ministries Department of the USA Eastern Territory honors the memory of those who perished on 9–11. We give tribute to those who survived and those who responded in the time of need. May God Bless you all!

go towww.womensministries-tsa.org

come Be a part!

“the ministry of presence.”Later that morning, without sleep,

we reported to the Incident Com-mand Center at the Arlington Corps. Esther went to a nearby hotel, where the Defense Department had set up a resource center for families of Pentagon workers to gather for information brief-ings, assistance with personal matters, insurance, counseling, and chaplain services. The Army’s role there was to greet each person and then be available to express that “ministry of presence.” Opportunities abounded as acquain-tances grew into relationships which grew into friendships. The conversations were free–ranging—cheerful, charming, fretful, challenging—and often finished with prayer.

Twice a day a general from the Penta-gon met with the families to share what was happening, including how many remains had been discovered. Esther and the other Salvation Army officers on duty were included in these briefings, and it became a time of intense, person-alized, and precious ministry.

Pet therapyThe time between briefings was as relaxed as possible given the circum-stances. An area group brought specially trained dogs as part of a program com-monly called pet therapy. These gentle animals provided hours of comfort as traumatized people stroked the dogs.

During one of the briefings, a family member asked if it would be possible

to meet any of the rescue workers. The next day an entire team, including the search–and–rescue dogs, came to the center, and the families thanked them firsthand. It appeared to be the begin-ning of healing for many affected so directly by the attack.

Wonder Woman incognitoOne evening Esther came home to the hotel where we were billeted with an unusually big smile on her face. “Won-der Woman came by today,” she said. She was talking about TV’s Wonder Woman, Lynda Carter, who lives in the greater Washington area. Her visit was incognito, and when Esther told her that the Army could arrange for her to be interviewed, her response was something like, “If you tell anyone I was here, I won’t come back. I just want to support these dear people in their hour

of pain.” We didn’t tell, and she came back several times.

Active duty and retired military chaplains were very much in evidence at the Family Resources Center. Sev-eral noted that it was the gentleness of Salvation Army personnel that brought peace, comfort, and assurance to the families.

Serving the mediaThe press people—representatives from every news domestic and international outlet imaginable—were not allowed at the Pentagon itself. Instead a press center was set up nearby that afforded a clear line of sight. Even though every time zone in the world was represented and deadlines for submitting or trans-mitting stories varied greatly, at times things were relatively quiet. It was dur-ing those times that meals and snacks

As U.S. flags disappeared from Washington–area stores, they quickly reappeared at spontaneous memorials.



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Subscribe to Priority!This 9/11 special issue may be your first glimpse of Priority! Our mission is “to promote holiness, prayer, and evangelism through the life stories of God’s people.” In each issue, we feature people from all over the U.S. connected to The Salvation Army.

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Freeman On First

Ohio ‘God Girl’Dancing Across Cultures

Atlanta’s Major Doctor

‘HIT LINE DRIVES,

LOVE THE LORD’

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9/11 We Remember

Fall 2011

SPECI A L 10 t h A N N IV ERSA RY ISSU E

L i fe S to r i e s o f God ’ s Pe o p l e

were served from the Harrisburg, Pa., Corps canteen, assigned exclusively to the press area, under the leadership of Major Ron Dake and his volunteers. Conversations developed easily as coffee was poured, sandwiches and candies handed out.

As the weekend came nearer we be-came concerned about how the men and women of the press would worship on Sunday; they would not be able to leave the site and return. We contacted the Arlington corps officer and requested a band ensemble so we could make it pos-sible for the press folks to worship.

About 1 p.m. the musicians assem-bled and began to play familiar hymns. Writers, photographers, videographers, editors, and anchors made a beeline for them. Many sang along with the band; some wept openly. We read Scriptures expressing hope and love and shared a simple Gospel message during the 30–minute service that was carried live over CNN and several other networks.

dignitaries arriveOne of the duties assigned to The Salvation Army by the FBI, which had responsibility for checking credentials, was to handle initial clearance of all new non–military personnel who had a need or desire for access. One day my cell phone rang, and a woman who iden-tified herself a “wife of a Congressman” said that she had been told her group needed Salvation Army approval to be at the Pentagon. I suggested that there must be some mistake, but she insisted. In a few minutes we were hosting a small

Worshiping in a tent at Camp Unity



contingent of women married to U.S. Congressmen. Like thousands, perhaps millions, they just wanted to do some-thing “hands–on” to be useful. They asked if they could volunteer at the Salvation Army warehouse and would their work really make a difference? My answer was a resounding yes.

Before they left, the spokesperson asked how many days I’d been on duty. When I told her 11, she asked, quite sincerely, if I needed her to do some laundry for me. That question had a profound effect on me emotionally and spiritually. I learned that day that this crisis was bringing Americans together in ways more meaningful than anything ever before experienced.

The first few days of our ministry, U.S. flags were plentiful and very visible. About the fourth day, every flag outlet in the capital area ran out. I was begged, bribed, and badgered for the flag that was duct–taped to my golf cart. Fortu-nately no one was bold enough to steal it, and I have it still as a memento of nearly three incredible weeks of service and ministry. Our deployment to the Pentagon following 9/11 was amazing in that it was exhausting and exhilarating; it was a rush of adrenalin followed by moments of emotional cellar dwelling; it was as if one’s whole life was a prepara-tion for this very moment. For Danny and Esther Morrow, it was a privilege beyond understanding.

The Morrows are retired but serving as corps officers in Petersburg, Va.


Flight 93Shanksville, PA

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The day started much like any other Tuesday. Prayers, shower, get dressed, and off to the office in downtown

Pittsburgh. While attending the morn-ing staff meeting, the telephone rings: it’s for me. “I don’t believe it!” I say out loud. “What happened?” a friend asks. “A commercial jet has hit the World Trade Center in New York City!”

Soon we learned that another plane had gone down much closer to home. As I traveled by car across the rolling hills of Southwestern Somerset County, Pa., my mind raced ahead to the crash scene of USAir Flight 93 in Shanksville. I asked myself, “How many died? How many were injured? How many men,

women, and children were on this plane?”

I knew I was rapidly approaching the “incident scene” as I began to see more and more fire engines, ambulances, local and state police cars, and other emer-gency units. I approached a state police checkpoint, and the traffic came to an abrupt stop.

As I rolled down my car window, the heat of the day came rushing in. My, was it warm outside. The state trooper asked for personal identification. As he looked at my license and noticed my Salvation Army uniform, he said with a rather strong tone, “Glenn, how can I help you?” I replied, “I’m a major in The Salvation Army, and I was instructed to go as quickly as possible to the crash site of USAir Flight 93.” The officer replied, “Good, we need you people here today. Proceed to the next checkpoint.”

Once I parked my car, I got out and met with the staff from The Salvation Army to discuss strategy. I said to our director of emergency disaster services,

Robert Myers, “I want to go to the crash scene.” Bob said to me, “Major, we can go, but there is not much to see.”

But I decided to go. As I started the walk up the dusty road, I could see the smoke rising over the hill in front of me; the stench of jet fuel was thick in the air.

When I arrived at the top of the hill, I noticed that the green loblolly pine trees were covered in spent jet fuel. Then my eyes turned down the sloping hill and I saw the remains of Flight #93 in a crater more than 100 feet wide and 70 feet deep. It was absolutely surreal; it was as if I were watching a horror movie.

Suddenly, the reality of the moment sank into my mind and made an indel-ible mark. I would never be the same.

Bloomfield works in the Finance Depart-ment at Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, N.Y. At the time of the attacks, he was serving in the Western Pennsylvania Division.

Moving Momentby Major Glenn Bloomfield

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a search and recovery employee. The

man was in white coveralls with big bold print on the back: FBI. He wore yellow boots, a helmet, and a white mask covering his mouth and nose.

I was immediately drawn to him. As we moved closer, I could not help but notice the tears welling up in his eyes. As we inched closer to each other, I could not begin to imagine what he was experienc-ing. I thought to myself, ‘You are the encourager; encourage.’ We embraced for only a few short mo-ments, but it seemed much longer.

No Ordinary Tuesday by Major Glenn Bloomfield


Flight 93 - Shanksville, PA

1. The worship services we conducted, at the request of law enforcement and media, on two consecutive Sundays [total time on–site was three weeks]. The sensitive spirit of those in at-tendance was very touching and a special blessing.

2. The moving picture of one of our women Salvation Army officer counselors praying with a volunteer from another agency who was over-whelmed with the tragedy.

3. The day the family members arrived in two large buses to visit the site where their loved ones perished. Even though it was a restricted area, we as The Salvation Army were called upon to meet the family members and remain with them as long as needed. The Attorney General and FBI Director made a point to thank The Salvation Army for their prayers and support during this time.

DeMichael, now retired, was divisional commander in Western Pennsylvania at the time of the attacks.

I remember three things by Lt. Colonel Joe DeMichael

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Major Claranne Meitrott comforts a Red Cross worker.

Lt. Colonel Gladys DeMichael looks at keepsakes people left at a makeshift memorial.


After the news came of the attacks in New York and that another plane was heading toward western Penn-

sylvania, officials took emergency action. Businesses in Pittsburgh and the

surrounding communities were closing and students were being sent home from school. In the downtown area, people were told to leave any high–rise build-ings, which raised the question: What were we to do with the residents of the Salvation Army’s Family Shelter? We quickly made arrangements for those who had no place to stay, including Family Crisis Center children either coming from school or being picked up by family members; they were well taken care of in that moment.

On Wednesday, Major Glenn Bloom-field and I drove to Shanksville to meet Major Bob Carney, who set up the Army canteen to serve federal and local law officials working in the area of the plane crash. The major served with his best, as he would always do in moments like this. He even slept in the canteen on that first night so he could have breakfast and cof-fee ready to go. A true servant!

An unexpected phone call came to Divisional Headquarters on Friday, Sept. 14, at about 3:00 p.m. We were being asked to lead a worship service on Sun-day morning at the crash site. Wow— what an honor! We prayerfully put together our service outline, gathered musicians, and prayed that God would use us on that Sunday morning.

It was a moving experience, as every-one at the site stopped their work and came to the service. There was not a dry eye in the congregation, even those of the burly federal agents and Pennsylva-nia state troopers, who are taught to stay composed in difficult situations.

It was a privilege to share in worship on that Sunday morning. It made me realize that 9/11 had awakened in many people a new spiritual awareness.

Bamford, chief secretary in the South America West Territory, was general secre-tary in the Western Pennsylvania Division at the time of the attacks.

Below: Major Bob Carney talks with Lt. Colonels Gladys and Joe DeMichael, divisional leaders.

Crisis and Worship by Lt. Colonel Bill Bamford

The Salvation Army conducts a service for media and workers.



Delayed Reaction by Steve Twedt

Ginny Knor still remembers watch-ing through her office window late in the morning of Sept. 11 as

downtown Pittsburgh emptied into the suburbs and knowing she was facing the biggest challenge of her profes-sional life.

The next weeks were a blur of tele-thons, a trip to Shanksville, coordinat-ing donations, answering media calls. She slept a few hours a night, worked on weekends, and lived on a diet that varied only by which toppings were on the pizza.

She was so busy that she didn’t have time to process her own grief. But when it hit her, it hit her hard. One night in November 2001, after another long day, she got home “and just cried and cried and cried.”

She credits the Salvation Army’s ministry for helping raise everyone’s spirits, including hers. This was always more than a job for her, but after 9/11, she came to consider it closer to a call-ing. “This really drove home the mes-sage that I’m in the place I want to be.”—Excerpted and adapted from an article written on the first anniversary of 9/11 by Steve Twedt in the Pittsburgh Post– Gazette about Knor, director of market-ing and public relations for the Western Pennsylvania Division.


Dedication and Commemoration: Flight 93 National Memorial

The passengers and crew of Flight 93 will be permanently honored at the Flight 93

National Memorial, set at the site where their final struggle ended in a rural field near Shanksville, Pa.

The Flight 93 National Memorial was created by an act passed by Congress and signed by President George W. Bush on September 24, 2002. A design was chosen in 2005 through an open, international design competition and, since then, three–quarters of the $60 million in public and private funds needed to build the memorial have been secured. Ground was broken on the first phase of the memorial in November 2009 and dedication of the memorial is planned to coincide with the 10th anniversary.

For details on the schedule of events and directions to the site, go to www.nps.gov/flni/planyourvisit/september-11-2011-week-end.htm. To donate to the Memorial Fund, go to www.honorflight93.org

An artist’s rendition of the Wall of Names and the ceremonial gateway to the crash site.

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A worker washes the memorial wall.

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The Tower of Voices, shown in winter, reaches 93 feet into the sky and houses 40 aluminum wind chimes. The sound of the chimes will be an audible reminder of the selfless acts of courage of the passengers and crew members of Flight 93.



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