9/11/01 was an excersize in surrealism for me....
The night before, I'd gotten in a fight at the bar with a loudmouth, who, coincedently enough, was saying that terrorists fought because they had no other recourse, and never hit an innocent person.
I was agitated when I got home that night, and in a mood my wife had not seen for years. I stayed up late, brooding over that jackass (I was a bartender), and got up early. I had suffered one of my recurring nightmares, and my wife was having one too, where she was kicking and moaning in fear.
All I caught was "plane" and "hijack" I shook her half-awake, and went in to work on something to take my mind off of reliving my past while I slept.
I was online when a friend IM'd me and told me to turn off my TV. I told her in a second, I was busy. I was monitoring something wierd. The system I was doing remote overwatch on was tripping out. (I used to do contract computer work) I was getting alerts across the board.
She told me to turn on the TV NOW!
I turned on the TV, but no reception. My sattallite was down. no biggee.
All of a sudden I got flooded with IM's. It took me a minute to sort them out. Old military buddies, family, friends.
I still remember one of my friends saying: "Think it's terrorists? We warned about that, didn't we?" We were on webcam, and I nodded, watching pirated TV feed in another window.
My stomach started hurting.
My kids were crying.
My brother called me, and asked me to get ahold of his wife, he was getting deployed.
Two of my brother's in law called. Deployment. Since, one has died in a training accident.
A friend called to tell me that Nancy's mother had called. Three weeks later, confirmation came. Training accident.
I watched the Pentagon burn. A place where I had been more than once. I wondered how extensive the damage was.
The phone rang. I was on standby.
My kids were crying.
The phone rang. My boss wanted to know one thing. Would I go if asked, or had I already volunteered. I numbly told him that I was on standby. He told me he wanted to kill them, kill them for his friend. I had the night off.
I woke up my wife. She thought I was joking, or watching a movie. She told me to beat it.
"Get up, I'm on standby, Karbide and Lurch are gone, Platehead is being deployed."
She got up.
My kids were crying.
I called the school, told them that my kids would be gone for awhile. My wife started crying.
I was filled with rage, and a strange numbness. The same way I had felt in Fulda when the discoteque had blown apart and thrown me across the street, my boots staying behind.
Nancy.
A call from one of my cousins. Another family confirmed. Two months later, confirmation. Training accident.
I had to get out of the house. My wife needed her best friend. My kids needed thier friends.
I watched the towers collapse, and dimly recall going outside. I stood, looking up at the clear blue sky, and was filled with the urge to hurt someone. I felt rage, and helplessness.
I had failed. I took an oath, like all the other men in my family, and more than a few of the women, to protect those who could not or would not defend themselves. To protect America.
Had I missed something? Had one of my brothers told me something, and we blew it off? Was it Al-Queda again? Was it another terrorist outfit? Was it Soviet hardliners or KGB diehards using terrorists as cover to start WW-III?
We went home.
My boss called. I had messages.
I went to the tavern. I got my messages.
One was a phone number and POC. Another was from Platehead. "Business is booming. Expecting many customers. Pray for my clients." That note was enough to nearly drive me to my knees. My boss looking like a calf in a slaughterhouse.
"Is it hard to do?" he asked, his finger touching the scar on my cheek. I knew what he meant.
"Not for me." He nodded, shook my hand, and I left, to find a cop car waiting out front of the bar. It's a small town, what's the sherriff doing leaning on the hood of my car.
"Busy?"
"Not really." I answered, sitting down next to him. He offered a cigarrette, and I took it. My hands weren't shaking.
"Remember much training?"
"A little." My stomach hurt.
"Can I call you, if I need you?"
"I'll be there, unless I'm needed somewhere else." I got in my car and drove home. Every house that someone lived in year round, I could see the TV on. I stopped by the side of the road, and looked up at the clear blue sky.
Had we missed a clue, years ago? What was the next wave? Please, God, don't let my skills be needed.
My kids were crying. I hugged the baby, who was deaf as a post, and confused. The images on the TV weren't bad to her, they were exciting, and I cringed at the urge to yell at her when she clapped at the towers collapsing.
Email from everyone. Mostly my old crew. Roll call. Out of 13 of us, only 3 of us left. I was the only one untapped. I felt old, useless, and helpless.
The boys called me. Meeting at the tavern. Low vioces and shaking hands. Haunted eyes and steel spines. Exchanged info on kid allergies, meeting places, ammo. Prepare for the worst, that way you are never surprised.
"What kind of chemical weapons can they get, Frag?"
"I can make something in the sink that could kill everyone in Portland." My stomach hurt.
"I didn't ask about you." His hands shook as he lit another cigarrette. He had quit 5 years ago.
"It'll be Sarin if anything. Mass target. Probably NYC again. If this is very well planned, there should be another explosion tonight, along with multiple chemical weapon releases. Let's hope for sloppy, and no followup punch." I finished my drink and ordered another. I realized, I had 3 empty mugs in front of me.
The boys broke up. The kids were asleep, exhausted.
My wife held me.
I had denied having any use for that knowledge. That it was all in the past, and the insanity of the Cold War was over.
I had a message. I called. Confirmation.
I was to give a lecture.
On Biological/Nuclear/Chemical Weapon Warfare in an urban environment. Dispersion, deployment, protection, recovery.
My retirement was over.
Anthrax or Smallpox will be next. I knew it. Deep down, I knew it. We had presented evidence, and were laughed at. The threat was discounted. I was told I was paraniod, and retired early.
I was a relic of the cold war, of a time best left forgotten, with no place in this new world.
I was asked if I would be willing to co-ordinate with local authorities in case my skills were needed.
My nightmares had overwhelmed reality.
I wondered if the answer to this would just be a placating, or, if in our rage, we would kill thousands who wanted no more than to live thier lives, and could not care less about politics, or the insanity of powerful men.
9/11 was the day that I realized that we all lie to our children.
There really was monsters.
Nightmares can be real.
And worst of all.....
I realized that my fears, as exotic as they were, were now everyone elses. I would now see the same looks on other people's faces that I had seen on my crews.
We gamed that night. We played Gamma World, immersing ourselves in horror, to remind us that all was not lost, and it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
After all, none of us glowed in the dark, and I hadn't suddenly sprouted antenna.