By Rory McClannahan
Albuquerque Journal
ALBUQUERQUE — Abel Paniagua has a lot of plaques and awards given to him through 22 years in the Marine Corps and 11 years as a federal police officer.
He’s also got uniform pins and commendation awards for his service as an officer in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001. However, the Edgewood resident has two things he treasures most that harken back to that day.
The first is a “Star-Spangled Tribute Boutonniere” from Project H.E.A.R.T. given to him by a child as Paniagua was manning a security checkpoint in lower Manhattan a couple of weeks after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.
“This I treasure more than anything anyone gave me because this came from the heart,” Paniagua said.
The other object came to him several days later, but he says it was weeks before he realized what he had received.
A life in uniform
Paniagua grew up in New York City and as soon as he was old enough he joined the Marines.
For 22 years, he had numerous assignments that ranged from drill instructor to security at American embassies overseas. He had a short relationship with one of his colleagues on embassy duty, Alexandra, that didn’t work out at the time, but did later, as his military career was winding down and after a marriage and kids.
“She’s been my rock,” he says. “I’m glad we never gave up on making it happen.”
After he retired from the Marines in 1996, Paniagua said he figured “I’d become a New York City cop and that would be it.”
But he got an offer to become a federal police officer attached to the U.S. General Services Administration. The GSA had a history of providing security to government buildings and property throughout the world, but that mission became more important in 1993 after the terrorist bombings of the World Trade Center, two American embassies in Africa and the USS Cole.
It was clear the GSA needed more than security guards with a flashlight - it needed trained professionals.
That’s how Paniagua ended up five blocks from the World Trade Center on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001.
Terror strikes
Paniagua worked on the security team for the two federal buildings at 26 Federal Plaza in New York City.
Sept. 11 didn’t start out much different than any other day, other than it seemed like it was going to be a nice day.
“That day was extra beautiful,” Paniagua says.
He was at work at the building at Broadway and Dwayne at 6:30 a.m. There was a Pepsi truck nearby that was parked in a spot that could be used by either employees in the federal buildings or by the nearby fire station.
Paniagua says he told the Pepsi driver to move the vehicle, which the guy said he would. Paniagua went about other parts of his routine, and even drove down to the World Trade Center to check on personnel at some federal offices there.
When he returned to his post, the Pepsi truck was still there, and he went to talk to the driver, a fellow named Sal. It was 8:39 a.m.
As Paniagua was explaining to Sal that he needed to move his truck, they both saw the blur and sound of a plane overhead.
“The first plane flew over,” Paniagua said. “It was just a loud roaring sound and a blur. Then we heard a boom. Sal says, ‘I think he lost an engine’ and I told him, ‘Sal, you know what? I think you better get out of here.’
“I walked up to Broadway and looked to see, and all I could see was a cloud of smoke and paper. I knew this was going to be a long day.”
But there was no information about the nature of the of the attack.
“We all took it as an accident,” Paniagua says.
Ambulances, firetrucks and police all started heading past the federal buildings toward the World Trade Center. At first, people were outside, gawking at the spectacle. Paniagua says he noticed an older woman holding on to a post. When he approached her, he and other officers tried to get her to let go of the post, but she kept talking about her heart.
Paniagua says he was able to flag down an ambulance and get the woman to a hospital. As he was wrapping that up, a fellow tapped him on the shoulder - his wife was pregnant and her water had just broken.
This time, Paniagua said he couldn’t get an ambulance and a constant refrain kept playing through his head:
“Not here, not now.”
He was able to get the couple into a cab that sped toward a hospital, but it wasn’t long before the second plane hit the second building.
“We knew then that we were at war,” Paniagua said.
The buildings fall
What followed was about an hour of intensity as people came to gawk, some to get away. Fire and police had swarmed the area, and a triage was set up between the two burning buildings. Paniagua said he and his crew were working to provide support, while at the same time assure the federal buildings remained secure.
“Broadway had become the route for a marathon of people trying to get out,” he said.
At 9:59 a.m., the south tower collapsed, falling on the triage center. A half hour later, the north tower came down. Paniagua said he could see the towers as they went down, and as the second was coming down, he could see that if it fell over in his direction, there was a chance it would reach him.
Instead, it fell down on itself.
Despite the falling buildings, there were still people coming at him from the World Trade Center.
“It was dark, you couldn’t see, and the people coming out were covered with gray dust,” he said. “They were zombies.”
In the aftermath, Paniagua says he shouted himself hoarse trying to get people who could move out. Those who couldn’t, he would pour water on their faces, help them catch their breath.
“You’d think that after 20 years in the Marines I’d seen just about everything.”
Aftermath
For the next six weeks, while the investigation and cleanup effort continued, Paniagua was working 12-hour shifts, six days a week. But something started to happen - people would come up to him to shake his hand, give him a hug or a cup of coffee. The kind words, he would take, but he couldn’t accept gifts.
In his pocket, he always carried a little green notebook and after a day or two of the constant “Thank yous” and “God bless yous” he began to write down each one.
“I (wrote) down every little credit I got because when I die and I make it to the Pearly Gates, I can pull this out and tell the Lord, ‘Look, I’ve got credit,’ ” Paniagua jokes. “Knowing my luck, I’ll be one short.”
He also came to the realization that it was time to leave New York. After the cleanup and lower Manhattan was reopened, he put in for a transfer. New Mexico seemed like it would be nice; by 2002, he was at the Albuquerque office.
Retirement came in 2009: He couldn’t do the job anymore because of pulmonary problems that doctors have told him were related to the dust from 9/11.
Saying thanks
Tucked on the back of a shelf of memorabilia, Paniagua keeps a small seed envelope that has a peach and some Chinese writing on it. He explains that in the weeks prior to the attacks, he would help a small Chinese woman cross Broadway. She didn’t speak English and he didn’t speak Chinese, but it was just something you do, he says.
After the attacks, an elderly Chinese man appeared at his checkpoint, bowed and simply said, “Thank you,” in broken English. He was the woman’s husband, Paniagua said, and he handed him the envelope.
Paniagua said that during Chinese New Year, celebrants would hand out cards to each other, and he figured that this was just one of those instances. He accepted the envelope and stuck it in one of the pockets of his uniform.
Days later, he was emptying the pockets and came across the envelope.
Inside was a $5 bill.
“I wasn’t allowed to take gifts,” Paniagua says, “but I figure if I don’t spend it, I’m OK.”
Copyright 2011 Albuquerque Journal