Shinichi Tetsutani’s tricycle. Shinichi was 3 years 11 months old when fatally injured by the US bombing of Hiroshima.
The term “Weapons of Mass Destruction” goes back at least as far as 1937, according to Encyclopedia Britannica. Around that time, fire bombing runs in Hamburg and Tokyo killed tens of thousands of civilians in a single night.
But American Ingenuity took it further. With the bombing of Hiroshima, we annihilated 66,000 people instantly. Another 75,000 would die from radiation injury by the end of the year. Three days later, at Nagasaki, we killed 40,000 more people instantly, and again, many others died more slowly.
Perhaps it was all about saving American lives, as (Democratic) President Harry Truman always claimed. Or perhaps, as Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, commander of the U.S. Navy’s Third Fleet, claimed in 1946, the first atomic bomb was “an unnecessary experiment…[the scientists] had this toy and they wanted to try it out, so they dropped it.”
Possibly in revenge for the indictments of Sacco and Vanzetti, one of the deadliest bombings on U.S. soil, up to that point, took place one hundred years ago today on 16 September 1920. At 12:01pm a horse-drawn wagon, carrying 100 pounds of dynamite and 500 pounds of cast-iron sash weights, exploded in front of the headquarters of the J.P. Morgan bank at 23 Wall Street. The blast killed 40 people and injured hundreds.
Among other things, this led to an expansion of the General Intelligence Division of the BOI (later the FBI), which was led by J Edgar Hoover.
Much of the later analysis suggests that Mario Buda carried out the bombing, though officially the case was never solved.
At about 8:55am, Joe called me at my desk from his car to say that the Trade Center was on fire. I worked on the 37th floor of a building in midtown Manhattan, about 4 miles north of WTC. I didn’t get a direct view of ground zero until I made it to New Jersey in the early evening.
After speaking with Joe briefly, I talked to others on the floor. The large conference room on our floor had a large TV and just about everyone who had arrived at the office already was in watching as the the second plane hit the tower.
I called home and told my wife what was happening. As the first plane looked like it hit right where our friend Kamran worked, she packed the kids in the car and headed over to his house, to be with his wife, Jennifer. As it turned out, the first plane hit a few floors above Kamran’s. After running through burning hallways with falling ceilings, he made it down 83 flights of stairs and was about 100 feet out when WTC 2 fell. Of course, several hours went by before news of his escape made it home.
Shortly after the WTC 2 collapsed, there was an alarm sounded on the 35th floor of my building. While it turned out to be a false alarm, most of us decided that it was time to leave the building.
After walking down the stairs, we gathered outside and discussed plans. Some people wanted to head toward Central Park (to be away from buildings). I took a smaller group that wanted to get away from the center of the city. We headed east and slightly north, ending up around Lexington in the low 50s. We found a hotel with a ground floor restaurant and got a table. We ate breakfast, hung out for a few hours and eventually ordered lunch. In the meantime, a couple of people in our group had met up with friends and family. After lunch, we split up to try to get home.
I decided to stop by the office first so that I could tell my wife my plans, which boiled down to: Try everything possible to get home. I walked with a co-worker down to Port Authority, which was closed and had lots of people milling about. From there we walked over to the ferry to Weehawken. The dock’s at about 42nd street, but the line extended up to 51st. I later learned that a second line extended down to the low 30s. Rather than waiting the estimated 8 hours to get to a place where I understood that no one would be able to get in to pick me up, I headed back to the office again.
When I got back, I met up with another co-worker, Leonid, who’d been hammering the New Jersey Transit web site and had gotten some indication that there might be some emergency transportation at Penn Station. We took the subway there and arrived at the PATH station around 5pm, about 5 minutes before they opened for the first time since the attack. Leonid and I split up and he headed off to try his luck with LIRR.
The PATH skipped all of the New York stops, but made all of the Jersey stops. I got off at Newark and caught the Raritan line train which I knew had a stop that was about a 20 minute walk from where I’d parked to catch the bus in the morning. As it turned out, there were police at the train station who were offering rides, so I rode over to my truck, drove home, and called over to Jennifer’s at around 7:30pm.
Then I spent the next hour calling people who’d left messages asking whether I was ok. I finished up around the time that my wife got home with the kids. I poured myself a scotch and started decompressing.
In the aftermath, I’ve learned that my old office in 4 WTC was destroyed and the one before that, in 3 World Financial Center, will be unusable for a long time. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have been able to contact a good number of the people that I know who might have been directly affected and learned that everyone that I know escaped direct harm.
