September 12, 2001:
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The view from the bridge
Like everyone else here, I turned on the television yesterday morning and couldn't believe what I was seeing.
But it was another working day. I tried to call, to find out what might be running. Didn't get through. I didn't try very hard to contact them - I knew there would be a train to run. So I left for work on my regular time.
When I got to the crew room at New Haven, I found that many of the daytime trains had been canceled, including mine, #173 on Tuesdays. In the chaos, the tunnels into and out of New York had been closed and then inspected before traffic would be allowed through. However, some trains were starting to run again, so I waited around to be available in case they needed me for something.
#149 was going to run on time from Springfield (to D.C.). That would be mine. I asked the Motor Storage engine dispatcher for my engine: the 915 - it was only one there. It's one of the last "old-time" AEM-7's, not rebuilt, no ACSES, and still has the old-time cab signal display. It's an engine that remains a pleasure to run, rather than a contest. Indeed the 915 has changed very little since my first trip on it many years ago.
The inbound train arrived on time from Springfield, and we left on time as well, but waited at South Norwalk for a Metro-North extra heading up the Danbury branch. Their schedules had been disrupted as well, and they were running what they could trying to get things back together.
We stopped at Stamford, finished the run down the New Haven line with clear all the way - unusual. Then headed down the Hell Gate Line for New York.
Perhaps the most spectacular view of Manhattan island and the boroughs of New York City is one that most people will never see: from the cab of a locomotive on the Hell Gate Bridge. You're up in the air, but not so high that you lose the breadth and magnificence of scope. You may get a similar, fleeting glimpse from the Triborough Bridge, but on the Hell Gate you have more time to appreciate what's before you.
Back in 1986 when I first got a computer, one use I found for it was to keep a database record of all my jobs. At first, I kept only essential data: engine numbers, terminals, mileage, times, etc. But then I decided I should include something more, a place to record comments about the day's trip.
The view from the bridge was one of my first experiences on my first trip over the road as a promoted engineman back May 1981, and it has earned entries in my "comment log" through the years. Here are a few:
October 28, 1990 (Conrail):
"Saw a complete rainbow stretching from the Bronx to Long Island - the most perfect I've ever seen"
July 1, 2001 (Amtrak):
"Saw a bolt of lightning hit the World Trade Center just before going into tunnel on the trip in"
Two days ago, Sunday, September 9 (Amtrak):
"There was no one to run 57, so I took that instead of 163; on the way back, NYC looked very nice under clouds overhead"
Coming westward on the Hell Gate Line, you pass by Oak Point Yard on the left with the elevated Bruckner Expressway on your right. You're down below street level here, but at the west end of the yard you start the climb. You're slowing down here, from 60 to 40 for the sharpest curve, as you leave the South Bronx. You turn right, go across the Bronx Kills bridgework, then continue upward past the toll booths of the Triborough Bridge. As you climb towards the 50mph curve at the east side of the main span, that's when you really see it. The View.
And of course, they were gone.
We arrived at Penn Station with 6 cars, 2 trainmen, 5 passengers, and no one on the platform waiting.
When I don't see him, I'll leave a note for the outbound engineman, saying how many cars, and condition of the brakes and engine. But last night I added:
149
6 cars
Brakes OK
Eng OK
A sad day.
Penn Station was very quiet. I walked out to 8th Avenue and 31st. Looking downtown towards the darkness, I saw what might be flashing lights far off, couldn't tell how far. I walked eastward on 31st Street, the taxi stands were blocked off with police vehicles; I heard they commandeered the taxis for emergency service. 7th Avenue was closed south of 34th Street, being used as an "emergency vehicle corridor". It was eerily quiet in midtown, almost no one there.
Back inside, there was no eastbound work for me. All earlier trains were gone and the ones coming later would have crews arriving, available to work back. So I could deadhead home.
There weren't going to be any eastward trains from Penn for a couple of hours, so I decided to take Metro-North back to New Haven. I walked to the 7th Avenue Subway entrance by the Long Island Rail Road side, with money out for a subway token, but the clerk at the booth waved me through the open gates. There was no service south of 34th Street - downtown trains were terminating there, then heading back uptown.
Waiting in the subway car to leave, I listened to a gentleman who worked for Jersey Transit. From his window he had seen it all: the second plane hit, the first collapse, the second collapse.
Grand Central was all but deserted. In the quiet there, one can take in what must be the greatest public space in America. I caught the 10:17pm for New Haven. The guy running it had hired out one man behind me.
The ride home in a deadhead car gave me time to consider the day, turning everything over inside.
In 1941 about 3,000 lives were lost at Pearl Harbor. We went to war, against known enemies, known countries. Yesterday we lost ... well, who has ANY idea yet of how many? Certainly thousands. Could it reach 20,000?
But this time, our war must be not against a country - it must be against a CULTURE. We must fight it and do whatever it takes to win. If we are not willing to do this, we will certainly face a greater Hellfire NEXT time.
I got home 3 hours' behind my regular time.
I have yet to finish my timeslip for yesterday, and then enter it into my records. I'm unsure what I can put into my comment log to fully represent yesterday's events.
I didn't sleep long last night. The televisions keep looping videos of the planes slicing into the buildings. How many times can YOU watch it? There are going to be more videos, perhaps more chilling than before. At once, the most awful and compelling sight I've ever seen. I am hard-pressed to keep my composure when I stop to think of those hundreds or thousands of doomed people in those buildings. Those who chose to jump rather than be burned alive. May God have pity on their souls.
Last night just after sunset on the bridge, I looked in the distance and saw the ashes of their lives floating up from Manhattan and across Brooklyn.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001:
"The view will never be the same."
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18 years later I will again ask a question I began asking 2 years after the World Trade Center attack:
Who's winning...?