In this excerpt from “The Big One: Reflections of an NYPD Lieutenant,” retired NYPD Lt. Nicholas Bavaro recounts responding with the Emergency Service Unit on Sept. 11, 2001, as the collapse of the World Trade Center transformed an urgent response into a desperate effort to regroup, account for personnel and search for survivors. Excerpted from The Big One: Reflections of an NYPD Lieutenant by Nicholas Bavaro, as told to Joe Badalamente, available exclusively on Amazon.
“As we race north along an otherwise empty highway, we can clearly make out the remaining tower — smoke pouring from its upper floors like a grim beacon, gray-black against an impossibly blue sky. Normally, at that time of day, the ride from the base to the Battery Tunnel, even using lights and sirens, would take a half-hour to 45 minutes. We make it in 15.
“Standing all around the Brooklyn-side tunnel plaza at the mouths of the tubes, there are cops everywhere, faces expressionless. With them is a deputy inspector in full uniform, his left arm in a cast and sling.
| LISTEN: Nicholas Bavaro provides a firsthand account of the rescue and recovery work that followed 9/11
“Returning my salute, the inspector says, ‘ESU? Are you guys heading in?’ I just nod. He points to a guy nearby. ‘This detective is from the Bomb Squad; we got a report of a device in the Brooklyn-bound tube,’ he says, pointing with his good hand at a big guy standing nearby wearing street clothes and carrying a tool bag.
“The detective jumps into the backseat. As I steer the Crown Vic into the right tube from the wrong side, he tells us there are multiple reports of a device. About halfway through the tunnel, we come across a small tin box in the roadway. Stopping the car about a hundred feet away, I start to get out, but the detective says, ‘I got it.’
“I say, ‘No; we do this together.’
“He says, ‘I appreciate it, but if that thing goes off, I’m going to need you guys to douse me!’
“We watch him approach the box, circle it, get down on all fours. He finally deems it safe: a lunchbox, probably fell off a truck.
“Back on the Brooklyn side, we give the inspector the all-clear. He thanks us, telling us to be careful as we enter the Manhattan-bound tube.
“Close to the Manhattan side, we see a gray cloud rushing toward us. Braking, I ask, ‘Forward or backward?’
“In unison, they all yell, ‘Forward!’
“We are enveloped by the cloud.”
Although Nick and his fellow officers have no way of knowing it, the North Tower of the World Trade Center has just collapsed.
“I’m driving blind, but then realize I can make out the tiles on the tunnel wall; I use them to navigate, the front tire intermittently rubbing along the wall. On the Manhattan side, the cloud brightens a bit, but we’re still surrounded by a gray blizzard.
“The streets are choked with cars and emergency vehicles. Somehow, I’m able to weave my way up to the intersection of Albany and West streets, a couple of blocks east of the Hudson River. A uniform cop passes us on foot. Covered in white dust, he’s heading south, away from the collapse. He has his face buried in the crook of his arm; doesn’t even see us.
“Making a right on West Street, I see a group of ESU vehicles. One of them is an ERV — an Emergency Response Vehicle. It’s got a dinghy strapped to the top; I know it’s loaded with generators, lights and scuba gear.
“Stopping next to the ERV, we all exit the Crown Vic. Everyone is looking for masks, putting on the blue construction helmets we carry. One guy doesn’t have a helmet, so I hand him mine, then grab my ballistic helmet from the trunk and put it on.
“The wind shifts. Now we can start to see sky, but there’s not too much of it. An ESU sergeant from 7-Truck — John English — walks up with a crew of guys. A wave of relief hits me, as he is one of the sharpest, most dependable people I have ever worked with.
“The police radio is totally silent. We can’t open the doors to the ERV; somehow the dust and soot have sealed them.
“Others start converging on us: a bunch of guys from Patrol, a firefighter. At that moment it hits me that these guys had just survived the collapses by diving under cars and trucks, and just how shell-shocked they are. The firefighter is covered in white dust, his blue eyes wide, looking a thousand yards past me. He keeps talking about ‘finding his crew.’ I tell him, ‘Just stay with us; we’ll find them.’
“A guy from K-9 is with us; the shepherd starts pawing the ground near a sign that reads ‘Tunnel.’ As the sign is normally six, seven feet from the ground, I realize we are standing on a massive pile of debris.
“Looking west down Albany Street, I can see clear to the river. There are blue skies above, so I yell out for everyone to head to the water. When we get there, there’s an FDNY boat tied off to the railing, its crew running hose lines to the site. I ask the fire lieutenant if they can take care of the firefighter who is with us. The entire crew comes over and envelops him.
“There is a low roar coming from up the Hudson, growing louder. We move to the railing as a fighter plane streaks by impossibly close to the water. Tipping his wing in our direction, he approaches the Statue of Liberty, pulls up hard, then shoots directly skyward before arching down and east. We erupt into cheers; it’s our first glimmer of hope among the wreckage.
“English and I start counting who we have, then decide to move north to the marina, which is less than a half-mile to our north.”
The North Cove Marina is located at Liberty Street and the Hudson River.
“At the marina, we run into another dozen ESU cops. Using the point-to-point feature on my radio, I transmit instructions for anyone west of 12th Avenue to converge on our location. We start grabbing bottled water from stores to wash the soot out of guys’ noses and mouths.
“We now number a few dozen, some people from Patrol but mostly ESU personnel. Over the radio, we hear instructions for all ESU to make their way to Stuyvesant High School, about another half-mile to our north. I ask everyone if they’re OK, and get thumbs-up signs from all.
“About five minutes into our walk, I notice someone lagging behind. I drop back so I can talk to him, check him out. I ask if he’s good, but he only nods in response before his eyes roll up into his head and he collapses.
“There’s an ambulance nearby with no one inside. We grab the gurney and throw him on. But where do we take him? One of the guys transmits that we have a cop with a possible heart attack. Aviation immediately responds that they’re close, that they can set down in a park that we can see.
“He regains consciousness as we’re loading him onto the helicopter. I yell into his ear, ‘You’re going to be OK.’
“As I watch them take off and head due west over New Jersey, I wonder to myself if he will be.”
“It’s mayhem inside the school, a sort of controlled chaos.
“Teachers and students are still there; it’s been less than 90 minutes since the second collapse. We’ve taken over the auditorium; there are huddles everywhere, groups of cops and firefighters. Up on the stage, some semblance of order is taking shape, folding tables and chairs being brought in by custodians.
“The bosses from various city agencies are trying to get a grasp on who’s there, who’s missing. We’re starting to get some intelligence over our radios and from personnel coming in. Outside, ESU guys are trying to organize our trucks, parking them in a way that’s not going to impede the flow of other traffic. They’re also taking stock of our equipment, going through the trucks to inventory what we’ve got on hand.
“As all this is going on, I am trying to keep in mind that we’re part of a larger whole that’s attempting to reorganize, to coalesce some type of order in the midst of the most surreal situation most of us have ever encountered.
“You always hear cops who have been in shootouts talk about how the training kicks in. The same thing was going through my mind: the academy, supervisory training, STS; if there’s a through line in law enforcement training, it is ‘try to keep the temperature down’ in a given situation. And in ESU, you must simultaneously keep the mission in mind: the organization of teams, who’s best at what task, is there a paramedic with each group heading out?”
Echoes
“We receive information that there’s a daycare center in World Trade Center 5, at the entrance facing Vesey Street. Grabbing a group of guys, we head south on Greenwich Street. As we pass World Trade Center 7, it is in flames.
“Across from Greenwich, we can see that the staircase that led up to the plaza is still intact, but filled with debris. We begin to climb. It’s precarious, as we don’t know how stable it is. The lead guys are anchoring ropes, which we are all hooking on to at various points on the way up.
“At the top, we are met with a wall of twisted iron. Making our way to the entrance of the daycare, we find the doors are locked. We force our way in. Thank God it’s completely empty.
“Back at Stuyvesant, we learn that there was a recording of a cop who had called for help over her radio after the collapse; our best estimation is that she is in the South Tower.
“We crowd around a large table and listen over and over in an attempt to ascertain her location. With each playback, it grows more difficult to bear: the fear in her voice, the desperation. Then nothing.
“As I look around at the faces of my colleagues, I see reflected in their expressions exactly what I’m thinking: We are listening to a cop dying, over and over again.”
