A Decade of Hope (27 page)

The law gives medical authority to whoever is the highest medically trained personnel, and there were sometimes stubborn bosses, lieutenants, or captains who knew better than to give orders to Andre. Andre knew what he was talking about. There were times when bosses said, We are going to do it this way, and Andre would say, No, we're not going to do it this way. They would look at him like, Who the hell are you? Andre had no problem telling a boss, No disrespect, Lieu or Cap, but this is my license on the line. So just please do as I asked you to do. He would do it in a way that didn't seem like he was arrogant. The lieutenant would be a little pissed, but he'd do it Andre's way. And so Engine 257 won many medical EMS commendations because of Andre.

After that Andre wanted to get into a ladder company—he really wanted to get into Rescue. The one thing we would always talk about was, Okay, who is going to get into SOC [Special Operations Command] first? SOC was then looking for people who had some type of training besides mechanical skills, and because of his training as a paramedic, Andre had his way in. But still, getting into a Rescue Company is very, very hard, so he decided to go to the facility on Randall's Island where all the special units would get trained, or get refreshed in training. Andre did two years there, and once you did that you could pretty much go anywhere you wanted.

In 1999 the captain of Rescue 5 said, “Why don't you come to us?” Andre hopped on that offer in a heartbeat. Rescue 5 was off Clove Road on Staten Island, and he was then living in North Babylon, New York, with his wife and his son. He was really proud of being in a Rescue Company. I loved going over to Rescue 5 and spending time with them on my off days. I would have lunch with those guys, and they would say, Hey, Zack, when are you coming over to SOC? And I said, One of these days. Actually, the Fire Department doesn't like putting two members of a family in the same unit.

When I started my career out of the academy, after probationary training, I got assigned to Ladder Company 15 in Lower Manhattan. Now I did have a hook, but my rabbi didn't pan out. My girlfriend at the time was a detective in Freeport. She had busted an FDNY two-star chief for a serious traffic thing but let him go. He told her who he was and that if she knew anybody that needed a favor, just mention his name. She wrote his name down but lost the paper. So it didn't pan out for me to go where I wanted in Brooklyn. I went to Ladder 15, with Engine 4, down on South Street, just a few blocks from the World Trade Center, and was there for almost seven years. It is a nice firehouse, and a great company, but I wanted to transfer out of there because I wanted more work, more firefighting. But there was an unwritten rule that you had to stay in the first battalion, first division, for five years, because they couldn't get anyone to go there. I just had to get out of there, especially after 9/11, because every time we responded to a call and we passed by the site, I would have a minor anxiety attack. It was hurting me. I said, I can't stay here, and then the captain, and even Chief [Joseph] Pfeifer, said, Anywhere you want to go. I could even have gone to Rescue in honor of my brother, but I felt that it might be too much for the guys there, seeing my face and knowing Andre so well, and that he died there. So I said, Let me go to a busy Brooklyn company. So I chose Ladder 132.

 

Just before 9/11 Andre and I talked about developing a modeling and acting career. We used to see the Doublemint Twins on television and thought,
Hey, we can do that
. But we were always so busy doing everything else, we just didn't have time. But one day we said, You know what, screw it; let's just start, and we went to an agency. One of the agents looked at us, and he said, “Where the hell have you guys been all my life?”

“You guys are tall, clean-cut, handsome. Twins—for that in and of itself,” he said, “you guys can go a long way.” We were asked to go to California; everything would be paid for by the agency. This was two months before the towers were hit.

Andre and I weren't just brothers; it was as if he was literally a part of me. We did everything together. When he got on the fire marshals' list, I got on the fire marshals' list. [Fire marshals investigate the causes of all fires in New York.] Andre was posthumously promoted to fire marshal because, though he had been on the list, they had kept pushing the promotion back. It was the right thing to do, and generous of the department. So I am on that list now, and as a matter of fact, will be in the next class.

On the morning that Andre died, I was at my girlfriend's house. Andre had separated from his wife by then, and a little more than a year before he died, he had moved back in with my parents, though he would still go to see his son every single day. It wasn't official with the department and the city, and I kept telling him, make it official, just do the paperwork and file for divorce too. He was, I'll get to it, I'll get to it—always the last minute for everything. He had started dating, met someone, and kept going down to North Carolina to visit her. He called me from there two days before to tell me he was having a great time, and that he was coming back to New York on September 12.

At that time, though, he was trying to get as much overtime as possible, and Rescue 5 called him and said, “Fletcher, twenty-four hours overtime: You interested?” He would have to come back just a day earlier, no big deal. Now, I remember the night before, September 10, vividly. We were having some really bad lightning storms, and they closed down LaGuardia and JFK airports. The only one that was still open was Newark, and they were accepting only half their flights.

Andre's flight from North Carolina to JFK was canceled, and they told him they would put him on a flight the next day. Andre was like, “Man, I want to do this overtime. I don't want to lose it.” With overtime, you have to grab it when you can get it. He told them that he had to get back to New York, so they said, We can possibly get you into Newark, but you will have to hang over for five hours in Atlanta.

So Andre was calling me the whole day: “Zack, you think you can pick me up if I can get a flight in?” I said, “No, I'm not going to pick you up.” And he's like, “Come on. You know, I do everything for you.” He never did anything for me, but you know how brothers are. He knew I was going to break down; I love him a lot. So I said, “All right, what airport?” He said, “I'm coming into Newark.” I'm like, “What? You expect me to drive from
effin'
Long Island all the way out to Newark?” I asked, “What time?” He said, “Midnight.” I said, “Hey, you're
effin'
kidding me. You're fucking crazy. I'm not doing that.” He's like, “Fuck you,” and slammed the phone down, but called me back ten minutes later. “Come on, man, please, pick me up. I don't want to lose the overtime.” And I'm like, “Damn.” I'm shaking my head, and after going through this for an hour, going back and forth, I finally said, “Okay, but you owe me big time.” I laughed to myself then. Well, at least Andre would be there in the morning to get his overtime.

I picked up his car to drive to the airport. He was wearing a spy coat, a trench coat, and I asked, as he opened the door of the car, “Who are you trying to be?” He looked at me, smiled, and said, “I knew you'd come for me.” And I asked, “How did you know that?” And he said, “'Cause you're my brother.” That made me feel good then—and now, too, so many years after 9/11. I said, “Just get in the car. Do you know what time it is?”

By now it was after midnight, so it was now 9/11. I drove to my girlfriend's house, gave Andre the keys, and said, “Be safe.” And I added, “You know, you owe me a dinner.” And he laughed, and said, “No problem.” That's the last time I saw him.

The next morning I was in bed with my girlfriend. I did not even know what had happened. I had had a good sleep, a great sleep. Everyone remembers that day. It was so beautiful and warm, not a cloud in the sky. And I began to hear sirens—must be something going on. Turn the TV on, and I'm like, What the . . . ? Andre calls me, “Yo, get to work man. They have a full recall, all off-duty personnel, everyone. A plane went into the World Trade Center.” And I'm, “Get out of here.” He said, “Zack, I'm not dicking you: A plane went into the World Trade Center.”

My girlfriend at the time was a cop who was working downtown by Alphabet City. She was getting calls too, for off-duty personnel to report. So we got in the car and started in. The second plane hadn't hit yet, but I could see the smoke billowing, and I'm thinking,
Oh my God.
I knew my company was going to respond because Ladder 15 and Engine 4 were just a few blocks away. First thing I thought was,
How the fuck are we going to put this out?
I said as much to my girlfriend. An interior attack, way up there? This is going to be worse than any basement job I've ever been in—if we can even get up there. We might have to walk it. 'Cause who's to say about the elevators?

Andre was the type to fly in, no hesitation—which made him great for a rescue company. If he were a cop he'd shoot first and ask questions later. I was totally different. I felt,
Wait a minute. How are we going to attack this problem?
I actually started thinking then:
If this thing burns to compromise the structure, part of it could collapse,
and then the second plane hit.

So I told my girlfriend, “Just go across the bridge, put the blinkers on, and hit the horn.” We had our badges and IDs out. There were police cars all over. They had closed the Brooklyn Bridge. I said to the police, “I've got to get to work. I'm at that firehouse right over there.” He looked at our badges and said, “Go ahead.” While crossing the Brooklyn Bridge I remember looking at the speedometer. I didn't realize I was going over ninety. That's when the first building fell.

In the firehouse I got my gear to make sure everything was good. Firemen from other areas were going to any firehouse available, grabbing coats and helmets off the rack, because this was a unique, once-in-a-lifetime emergency. I made sure I put mine to the side and waited for orders. Ladder 17 from the Bronx was relocated to cover my firehouse, and I went on a few alarms with them, which is when the South Tower fell.
God
. Then I was back in my firehouse, and a captain from another house came by, and said, “You're going to come with me—we're going down to the command post at the scene.” So we started walking toward the World Trade Center. The sky was dark with smoke. By Hanover Square, thinking about the brothers, “I said to the captain, ‘You know what? We have tons of extra air bottles [for the breathing masks]. Let me go back to the firehouse for them.' When I got back about eight minutes had passed, and the captain and I headed down Dey Street.

We then began to hear the rumbling of the North Tower falling. We were close, and it was the loudest thing I've heard in my life. We jumped into a building alcove—myself, the captain, and four cops in riot gear. When we saw all the debris, that huge cloud rolling our way, we just looked at each other bug eyed. We grabbed at each other, not even thinking; we just grabbed each other. We folded on top of each other and let everything pass by. If we hadn't moved fast, we would have been hit by the shrapnel and probably would have been dead. We were just a short block and a half away. If I had not gone for those air bottles. we would have been in the North Tower. We would have been dead. No ifs, ands, or buts. I know we would have been dead.

After the building came down, I was so glad I had my hood and a mask [a surgical filter-type mask]. It was as if time stood still. It was like a dream. I remember, I thought I was in a dream. Everything was in slow motion. Looking around, saying to myself,
This can't be real.
We went up Church Street, and I saw Engine Squad 252. Everything on the front of the truck burned to nothing, but everything on the back end was still there, though pretty beat up. I said to myself,
Nah, that can't be 252. That can't be a fire engine. I mean, this is not real.
I said to myself,
My God, this is unbelievable
. We then passed a car on fire. The captain saw a hose hooked up to a hydrant and said, “Open up the hydrant; do what you can with that car fire.” I started spraying water, and I began to say to myself,
Why am I fighting a car fire? Putting this out ain't going to do anything.
Also, the pressure on the hydrants had completely dropped, so it was basically just pissing a trickle. So I'm like,
The hell with this. I'm not doing this. I gotta look for my brother.

I knew Rescue was there. When we were coming in, my brother hit me up on the two-way walkie-talkie instant communications. “Rescue 5,” he said, “is about to go through the Verrazano Bridge tolls.” They were weaving their way in and out of all the traffic. Andre told me to get down to my firehouse and that he would meet me down there. I said, “Andre, I know you. Don't do anything stupid. Don't try to be a hero on this one. I'll see you there. I'll hook up with you.” That was the last time I spoke with him.

After the South Tower collapsed I joined other firemen and did a search of the surrounding areas. The carbon monoxide level was extremely high, to the point that, even though I had a mask on to filter out a lot of stuff, it didn't filter the carbon monoxide. I knew that area and remembered large open spaces, and I was looking for those spaces, but it was all solid now, a mountain of debris. I remember thinking too that if they were in that pile there was no way that we would be getting them out. They were dead. I was getting a little overcome with the carbon monoxide, and I thought,
I can't stay here,
because I didn't have the right mask on. I needed a self-contained one. And then we were told to group up and to meet at the quarters of Engine 7 and Ladder 1 on Duane Street. They were first-alarm companies, and it's amazing how a firehouse that was so close, and one of the first at the World Trade Center, didn't lose anybody. I was just so happy for them. Some of the guys there saw me, and because my company works with them a lot, two of them came over and hugged me, like, “Man, good to see you.”