Posted by
fact275 on Thursday, September 11, 2008 11:00:00 AM
It is hard to believe that seven years have passed since September 11, 2001.
Seven years ago on this day, I was a few weeks into an epic 32-day holiday all over Western Europe. I had come to Belfast to see the city and its troubled neighborhoods for myself. Though Belfast was a much different city in 2001 than it had been during the height of the "Troubles," there were still problems. Rioting in the Ardoyne neighborhood required the attention of British soldiers from a Scots regiment.
I was fortunate to be given a private tour of the museum Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) by its historian, a Scotsman as well. The RUC had been on the forefront of its own war on terror for decades and a George Cross then recently awarded by Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II was proudly on display in the lobby. I remain ever grateful to the historian and his hospitality.
I walked out of East Belfast towards the bus stop thinking I was happy to return to the "real world" of Scotland the next day and leave this low intensity conflict "amusement park" (my exact fate-tempting thought) behind. The next morning, I awoke in early morning darkness in Belfast, Northern Ireland to catch the Stena Line ferry to Stanraer, Scotland.
After two trains and several hours, I arrived in Scotland's beautiful capital of Edinburgh. My hotel was on Regent Terrace but despite the beautiful view out towards the Firth of Forth, the hotel was Scotland's version of Fawlty Towers. My room was not ready and the elevator was out. After a testy exchange with the hotel's front staff--almost all of them foreign exchange students or guest workers-- I was able to get into my room.
I headed out for Hibernian Football Club's Easter Road stadium in East Edinburgh looking to add to my souvenir haul. I had no idea what had just occurred in New York and Washington D.C. Browsing in the club shop, I heard one of the clerks--a British Asian (Indian or Pakistani) say to a coworker: "Did you hear what is happening in America? Terrible!"
I brushed off his comment, thinking it was yet another European who hated George W. Bush. What else was new?
Then the pop music playing in the shop stopped and there was a news bulletin read by a female voice. She claimed that several planes had been hijacked, the Pentagon attacked, and a bomb exploded outside of the State Department.
I stood there stunned. Though I was on record for five years predicting a nuclear, biological, or chemical attack on an unprepared America, I could not believe what I heard. Hijackings? Nobody hijacks airliners anymore, I thought, they blew them up.
Where were our Tier One counterterror units, the Army's Delta and the Navy's DevGru? They had to be ready to storm these airliners and free the hostages...Who was the National Command Authority? Was Rumsfeld dead? Bush?
Obviously, this press report was erroneous on several fronts.
I decided to wrap up my shopping, taking a few items to the front counter. I tried to mask my accent lest the clerk want to talk about things. I was obviously not thinking as the jersey I bought was two sizes too small.
I walked briskly back towards Regent's Terrace. But I then remembered that my hotel room had no soap. I stopped at a small market. In the United Kingdom, most grocery stores do not bag your groceries. The stores expect you to bag them yourself. In my daze, I walked out without taking them. The woman clerk ran out after me with them. I thanked her and blamed jetlag [sic].
I now had another concern. My hotel was full of what the military calls "Third Country Nationals"--citizens of nations of dubious friendship or loyalty to the United States. They knew from the exchange a few hours earlier that I was American. At that moment, the idea of attacks in Edinburgh did not seem far-fetched. Edinburgh Castle, just up the Royal Mile, hosted two British Army regiment headquarters--the Royal Scots and Royal Scots Dragoon Guards.
My training from the Air Force took hold. I went straight to my room, barred the door with furniture and drew the curtains.
On BBC and ITV, special news coverage focused on events in New York and Washington. Fortunately for me, all the terrible things of the actual plane strikes and the tower collapses had ended by the time I turned on the "telly." It was pretty clear to me at that moment that Al Qaida were responsible, though some of the news coverage warned that a domestic Timothy McVeigh-like attack could be responsible. That seemed ludicrous.
I knew that as safe as I was, my parents would be freaking. I could not reach them with my MCI calling card--the lines were fried. I called my friend Malcolm in Cheshire, England and asked him to call my Mom for me. He was stunned at events as well. (Later, I could get through to home on the direct hotel line, which was very expensive as you might imagine).
Periodically, I would go to the curtains and look out. It was surreal. It was a gorgeous day, with sunlight peaking out from the usually gray Scottish skies to illuminate the Firth of Forth out in the distance.
I would not leave the room so I took a risk by ordering room service. Obviously, I survived the meal!
The first politician I saw on TV was Tony Blair. He shocked his left wing supporters by saying that Britain "stood shoulder to shoulder" with the United States. I had not thought much of a Labour politician like Blair--and while I never have supported his domestic programs, I came to respect his support of the "Special Relationship" that makes up the heart of the Anglosphere.
Considering how hard it had initially been to reach the United States by phone, I worried that more attacks might totally sever communications. I never register with the US Consulate or US Embassy when in Western Europe. But this time I thought I should. In 2000, during the so-called "Fuel Crisis" protests in England, I had called the Embassy in London. I had received a recording telling me that for any emergency, I should call State in Washington. Gee thanks.
This time, however, I got a live voice, an Englishwoman. I asked whether I should come in the morning to register. She agreed that would be a good idea, then told me on second thought, it was not necessary. On third thought, changing her mind again, she told me to do so. She needed my name as the Lothian and Borders Constabulary (the police force that covers Edinbugh) had arrived to guard the Consulate.
The next morning, I was relieved to find that the Consulate just happened to be right behind the hotel on Regent Terrace, though it required me to walk all the way around the hill. The street on the other side had metal barricades. On the far end were the PCs and some media trucks and some apparent bystanders. As I slipped past the barricade, the two PCs at the other end looked at me sternly. I held up my blue US passport over my head in a rather theatrical manner.
One PC approached me and I told him my business. Some flowers had been left at the foot of the door to the Consulate.
This Consulate was very tiny, no bigger than a two room condo. It undoubtedly had a small staff and no Marine Security Guards. There was a glass window like you might find at a bank and the Englishwoman, in her 50s, came to meet me on the other side. She handed me a Scantron form where I filled out my contact details, family contacts, and my itinerary.
I told her that I used to work for the Department of Defense and asked if she had any intelligence for attacks in Edinburgh. In retrospect, I doubt a low level foreign US State employee would, and if she had, that she would have told me. She suggested my plan for the day--Edinburgh Castle--was more than safe.
I knew I had two choices. I could go back into hunker down mode and watch the news over and over until I went crazy. Or I could try to fulfill my itinerary best I could. I chose the latter.
Edinburgh Castle always has one or two soldiers out front, normally from a Scots regiment in ceremonial dress to march for the cameras. This day, the resident battalion was from the Light Infantry. There was no marching for the cameras that day. I saw a squad assemble just in the entrance, in DPM camouflage and rifle green berets, carrying loaded SA80 assault rifles. Their squad leader gave them their orders and they dispersed, apparently to other places in the Castle.
Edinburgh Castle is famous for it's "One O'Clock Gun," where a cannon is fired at that time. I happened to be in a gift shop when the thing went off. You know who the Americans in the place were as we all jumped five feet.
In the succeeding days, I was amazed at the pro-American sentiment in Scotland. I saw American flags flown from hotels and other buildings. Celtic, one of the major Scots football (soccer) clubs had fans that weekend holding American flags.
I headed south to England and Manchester. The pro-American sentiment amazed me here too. A cab driver, who happened to be a New York Yankee fan, as well as a History Channel viewer, told me that he appreciated what America had done for Britain in World War Two. He waived my 7 pound cab fare for me. A sixteen year old boy at the Trafford Centre mall who arranged taxis struck up a conversation with me. When I told him how touched I was by all this sentiment, he replied with an incredible sense of geopolitics: "You're there for us and we're there for you."
There was still tension however. Sitting at Old Trafford to watch my beloved Manchester United, a news helicopter suddenly flew low and fast over the stadium. This frightened nearly everyone and the pilot of that helicopter should have been fined. The media reported an Al Qaida threat to Manchester's city centre that same day, and the Greater Manchester Police were out in full force that night.
Transatlantic flights had been suspended and a backlog of passengers filled hotels up and down the British Isles. I was due to go home on September 22nd. I was now in London. What would become of me? Talking to my parents, I decided that if I could not fly home as scheduled, I would head back up to Manchester where at least I had Malcolm's family nearby as a backup. Hotels would be cheaper there too.
In the end, flights resumed and I could fly home as scheduled. At Heathrow, which had a Metropolitan Police armored car out front, I shall never forget just how easily I got through the normally slow check in lines. Airport screening at Heathrow was always thorough and professional long before anyone ever thought of TSA and it was no different that morning.
On my Virgin Atlantic flight, I was seated in the aisle on the left side of the 747-400. In the middle section sat a Middle Eastern family with a small baby. The father had a cooler up in the overhead bin with formula. Call it politically incorrect if you will, but every time he got out of his seat, at least two dozen eyes (mine included), followed his ever move. I resolved that if he did ANYTHING out of the ordinary, I was going to jump him. I feel sorry for the man now--I am sure he had never had a longer flight than that.
When I arrived home, I kept hearing about how America had changed forever. Of course, American flags were everywhere. Rush Limbaugh spoke of comments later attributed to General Barry McCaffrey about the coming War on Terror, how secretive and how long parts of it would necessarily be.
But has America really changed? The events of that day--even though I was so far away--resonate within me today no less than they did then. But for many Americans, and nearly the entire left wing in this country, 9/11 has been forgotten, downplayed, ignored, or spun for political purposes. There are actually Americans who want to see us withdraw from Afghanistan even though the fight with Al Qaida and their Taliban hosts is far from finished.
No, the American character did not really change that day. It just furthered the divisions of the 2000 and 2004 elections. One side saw 9/11 as affirmation of what we always knew--the world is a dangerous place. The other side saw it as further proof that America is to blame for nearly everything.
I honor the loss of those lost on 9/11 as well as those men and women lost in the War on Terror around the globe since then.