America at War: My diary of 132 hours in hell Saving lives; FIREMAN

BRIAN McGOVERN Picture team: DAVID POOLE, JEREMY WILLIAMS, JOHN

16-PAGE SPECIAL TRIBUTE TO NEW YORK'S HEROES

HE is one among the heroes who ventured into hell. For 132 hours, fireman Brian McGovern and his colleagues have risked their lives toiling in the debris of the World Trade Center.

And now father-of-two Brian, 36, gives his own graphic and moving account of the rescue operation.

It is a diary of fierce courage and unyielding determination.

Amid all the horror, the watching world has been uplifted by the selfless actions of the men from the New York Fire Department.

And the grim task goes on.

As Brian spoke to reporter MARK COLEMAN and photographer JOHN CHAPPLE, the first journalists to reach "Ground Zero" a few yards from the Twin Towers disaster, buildings still swayed and the air was thick with filth and dust.

Only a glimmer of hope remains that anyone will come out alive. As he digs, Brian prays that his own missing friends and colleagues may turn up alive.

But now the rush to save the living is turning into a search for the dead.

The scenes of devastation will always be remembered. But so too will the bravery.

This is the Fireman's Story....

TUESDAY

9.02am

I AM shaken awake by my wife Maria. She is pulling my arm sobbing uncontrollably.

"Honey, the World Trade Center's been blown up," she manages to say between her tears.

I just leap from bed and throw on my uniform. I know what this means.

Today was supposed to be my day off, but I just glance at the scenes on TV and realise I have to work, along with every other fire- fighter in the city.

Maria is a very emotional person. She is beside herself with grief.

I give her a hug and ask her to be strong and try not to worry.

My young children, Biff and Rosie, are still asleep upstairs. Thankfully they haven't heard Maria crying.

I slug down a glass of orange juice for breakfast.

9.07am

THE phone rings. It's my boss Mike. He tells me to join him and the guys I work with in the New York Fire Department. The World Trade Center is a 15-minute drive from my home on the outskirts of Manhattan.

I get in the car, put on the siren and race downtown.

9.17am ON the radio I hear a second plane has hit the WTC. By now I'm close to the scene and I can see smoke billowing into the sky.

Fire engines are rushing past. Many people must already be dead. For the first time, I start to panic a little. How many other buildings are going to be blown up?

9.25am

THE radio reports there could be hundreds dead and that explosions have ripped through the upper floors of the WTC. I figure immediately that this is going to be an enormous rescue operation. Not once do I consider turning back. Don't get me wrong - I love my wife and kids, but when you're a fireman the job always comes before anything else, even family.

It's a calling more than a profession, if that makes sense.

9.28am

I RADIO my boss Mike and ask him where we should meet. He tells me to get myself down to our temporary assembly place - the NYU Hospital - and liaise with the others. I park up and then sprint into the building.

9.30am I'M with colleagues on my way over to the building. Walking past us the other way are thousands of pedestrians streaming into upper Manhattan.

I can see the WTC a few hundred yards away. The smoke is making us choke.

We put on our breathing masks and make our way to the building as quickly as we can.

9.45am IT'S surreal. It feels very much as though we're marching into battle - like something out of that movie Saving Private Ryan.

In 11 years as a fireman I've never seen so many panic-stricken people flooding away from a building.

Several colleagues are inside the WTC already. I grit my teeth and say a prayer for them. I've been told to wait round the block.

It's now obvious the planes have flown straight into the buildings and exploded inside.

9.48am

THERE are rumours the building is unsteady and on the verge of collapse.

I'm worried now. A lot of colleagues have been ordered in already and there's no real means of contacting them.

Their task is to evacuate the public from the rest of the building and douse flames on the upper floors of both towers.

I pray everyone makes it out of there alive. But then I see people falling - and realise they are jumping to their deaths.

10.07am

SURE enough, the building is collapsing. Someone calls out: "It's going...it's f***ing going!"

I turn on my boots and run. The noise is deafening, like some huge earthquake. I don't think about anything in particular - there's no time.

I just want to get away, like everyone else.

10.15am

MY feet are aching from running so hard. I feel nauseous. "Did it all go?" I ask a nearby cop. He doesn't know either. We both keep running.

10.20am

I STOP to catch my breath a few hundred yards down the road on Broadway.

The building is still falling, but the noise isn't so loud any more. I stand with my hands on my knees and try to get my breath back.

All around us, people are screaming.

10.26am

THERE it goes again - another deafening, earthquake-type sound.

From a distance I can see the outline of the building through the smoke.

I realise it's the second tower collapsing.

I cover my face and stay as calm as I can. Then I find a corner and wait with my head between my knees.

10.45am

SHEER pandemonium. People are screaming and running past us as fast as they can go. I join up with some other firemen and run back to the scene.

11.05am

I'M at the wreckage. It's smouldering and we're hosing it down as best we can.

The smoke is unbelievable.

I'm surrounded by glass, bricks and bits of computers - and I can see bodies, severed limbs...it's a bloodbath.\

I climb into the rubble and pull out a corpse. It's a fireman. My stomach turns.

All around me, bodies are being carried away on stretchers.

11.30am

I'M sifting through rubble, carrying out bodies. One corpse looks like my friend but I can't be sure. This is like Hiroshima. I force myself to carry on digging, cutting and crawling, but I feel so sick. I can see the debris of death all around - there are bodies, purses, handbags, even dead birds.

By now many hundreds of victims have been carried out, but it's impossible to keep count.

My throat hurts, I feel numb. There are no words to describe the scene. I've been on the go now for three hours and it feels more like a week.

12noon

DEEP in the war zone, there's hardly time to think. We're just responding and reacting, if that makes sense. Body after body is carted past us. My colleague James - I caught up with him a few minutes ago - looks like he's going to faint. A few of the guys are crying on the sidewalk. I feel like crying too. I go off for a walk.

1.15pm

THERE'S a temporary food hall on Broadway, just a few blocks from the WTC. I'm drinking a little soup, but I'm not hungry.

I then sit down a few yards from the disaster scene and it's unreal. I try to call Maria, but there is no signal for phones. She'll be so worried about me. I hope the kids are OK.

1.45pm

MY feet are covered in dust as I take off my gas mask and use a simple white mask instead.

I wonder if it's safe to do this - the air is so thick with dust it's unbelievable. I ask a colleague and he just shrugs his shoulders.

Nobody's in the mood for talking. I walk to a payphone and it's been ripped to the ground by the impact of the bombing.

All I want to do is call Maria and let her know I'm safe, but I can't.

2.30pm

BACK in the rubble. I didn't manage to reach Maria.

One of the chiefs tells me there are probably thousands of people still trapped down there, so we have to keep going.

2.40pm

I'VE been at the scene for six hours now and it's getting tiring. I feel the need to smoke a cigarette for the first time in years. One of the cops gives one to me.

As it hits the back of my throat, I can feel the acrid taste that's lingering in the air even more. It's so pronounced I feel sick. I vomit on a street corner and feel slightly better.

3.15pm

COVERED head to toe in dust - must look like a ghost - but things are getting better.

We're finding more survivors by the minute. One lady, an 80-year- old from El Salvador, winked at me when she got onto the stretcher. That gave me a boost.

4.00pm

I'VE just heard the Pentagon was bombed too. I overheard it on a radio one of the other guys had.

5.20pm

I HAVE a break. There's a temporary food hall where I get a bagel and coffee.

Then I get through to Maria - finally. I am cut off mid- conversation, but at least she knows now that I'm safe. It's funny - she's a really emotional person but she is calmer on the phone than she was this morning.

Biff and Rosie, my children, shout "Hi, daddy" over the phone. For the first time all day, I smile.

6.00pm

STILL combing through the wreckage. Must have found about 30 bodies by now. It's hard to say how many the others found. But we also rescue people who are still alive.

It's such a wonderful thing to know you're saving lives. This is why I became a firefighter.

6.30pm

RIGHT now I'm so exhausted I can hardly stand up. A piece of stone lands on my wrist and gives me a massive bruise.

But with all this death and destruction it feels selfish even to go and get a bandage.

6.45pmMY thoughts are now everywhere. My head hurts, my throat still feels numb and my nausea hasn't left me.

It'll start getting dark soon. All any of us can see beyond the wreckage is this enormous cloud of smoke billowing over Manhattan. It's the most depressing sight.

7.00pm

THE most beautiful thing has just happened. One of the guys found a US flag and stuck it up in a mound of rubble. I feel so proud to be American.

We say a prayer, ending it with "God Bless America".

8.20pm

ANY joy I had has now been tinged with terrible sadness. I am told six guys from my station have gone missing.

It's so sad. I don't know which of my friends is alive or dead.

I get through to Maria again. She says she wants me to come home. I say I have to stay.

Eventually, after a lot of persuasion, she understands.

9.30pm

PITCH black. The mushroom of smoke still billows over the city.

I keep lifting up big pieces of broken concrete and looking for survivors. Haven't found anyone for a while.

Earlier, we were hearing people screaming for help but now it seems to have gone quiet. They must be dying in their hundreds down there. I've never felt so sad.

10.00pm

MY body aches but as long as there's a use for me here I'll stay.

Maria probably wants me to go home now but how can I possibly leave these people dying here?

There's a power cut too - just to add to the chaos. I go back to the rubble but by now there are so many of us here I can't get to the front line.

11.00pm

MARIA tells me I've done enough for one day and it's time to go home.

She's right. There are so many other people here and I can barely stand.

I say a few goodbyes and leave. Trudging through the thick rubble and debris makes me feel even more sick.

The debris has formed into ash and soot. I look like a coal miner.

11.10pm

I'M driving home but all the bridges are closed off. I park my car at Brooklyn Bridge and walk home - around three miles.

Midnight

HOME at last. Maria cries when she sees me. I eat a bowl of porridge and go to bed. Maria tends to my wounded wrist with bandages and antiseptic.

I tell Maria I don't want to talk about what happened and set the alarm clock for 7am.

12.40am

CAN'T sleep. Holding Maria tight. My whole body is still aching.

1.00am

DOZING off, but terrible images keep running through my head.

Can't stop thinking of the terror on people's faces as they fled the World Trade Center. They looked like ants swarming everywhere as they ran from the building.

Things still haven't sunk in. I don't think they ever will.

I drift to sleep.

WEDNESDAY

7.00am

THE alarm goes off and I wake with a start. My wife is standing over me with a cup of coffee. "Drink it, honey. You're going to need it," she says. As the events of yesterday begin to re-register, I realise what she means.

"Thanks babe," I say.

8.00am

PULLING my clothes on, I ask what's been happening. Maria tells me everything - the bombing of the Pentagon, the thousands of deaths, the firemen friends of ours we know are missing.

I must admit it's tough not to break down into tears at this point. But I've a job to do.

"How many survivors are in there, do they reckon?" I ask. "God knows," she says. I bid her farewell and promise to keep checking in as often as I can.

8.30am

APPROACHING the rubble, I see this huge thick smog still hanging over what used to be America's finest building.

I just can't believe these terrorists - they've ruined so many lives.

9.00am

BACK on the scene, it's a different kind of horror from yesterday. The rescue operation is more functional. People have brought in a lot of bulldozer equipment.

I pull on my mask, put my head down and get to work.

10.00am

STILL pulling bodies out of the rubble but not as many as yesterday. It's hard not to get involved emotionally when you're so close to a terrible scene like this.

There's no doubt in my mind that we'll find a lot of survivors today. I have to think this - the hope keeps us all going.

11.30am

A GIRL trapped beneath the rubble is pulled to safety. I have a part in the rescue - there are three of us lifting her. She is barely conscious but her rescue gives us great hope.

12.45pm

IT'S baking hot today which can't be good for any of the survivors trapped down there.

Someone tells me we've lost hundreds of firefighters. That doesn't surprise me - I've seen dozens being carried away.

2.00pm

MY hands are covered in blood. I've just lifted a man to safety who was cut badly. At a time like this I don't care what I look like. Nor do I care if I become ill. I believe in God - and doing everything I can in this dreadful situation is worth it.

3.15pm

CALL home. Everyone seems to think Arab terrorists carried out this attack. The thought of anyone doing something like this makes my skin crawl.

5.00pm

I HEAR President Bush's address on the radio. It sounds fantastic. I stop work for some food. I also learn that the NYFD chaplain Mychal Judge has died. We all knew him well and the news comes as a terrible blow.

6.30pm

FOR the second night in a row I'm absolutely exhausted. It's almost as though I'm running on pure adrenaline.

The dust isn't any better today - in fact it's much, much worse. I decide tomorrow will only be a half-day. Much more of this and I'll crack up.

7.00pm

AGAIN I phone home. My young daughter Rosie answers. She begs me to come home.

"Soon pumpkin, I promise,"" I reassure her. She says she's been watching the TV and she's worried about me. I look at my watch and realise it's late. I decide to leave.

8.15pm

BACK home. For the first time since the tragedy I switch the TV on and put my feet up. To say they ache is an understatement. I have a beer with Maria and the family say a little prayer together.

9.30pm

TIME for bed. I eat some ham and eggs then pop a sleeping pill. As I reach to turn off the TV, I see all the sympathy messages for firemen and cops. As soon as my head hits the pillow I fall asleep.

THURSDAY

8.00am

WAKE up, switch TV on. The news is hysterical as ever. I I slept a long time but there was thunder rumbling in the night which woke me up. I had thought it was another building collapsing and rushed to the window. When I saw the rain cascading down I wept. It would no doubt drown a lot of survivors.

9.00am

AT the scene again. Making my way, there I am approached by around five families, showing me pictures of their loved ones and asking me to keep an eye out for them.

My heart went out to these people, but there was nothing I could do. People in the photos look so human.

Their faces are full of life. I take a few pictures off their hands although the reality is that there's no way I can look at them as I'm pulling bodies up.

The sad reality too is that these people are either dead or scattered around in bits.

11.00am

ON a break someone shows me a picture from this morning's New York Post. It shows a hand buried in the rubble. I feel sick again.

11.30am

I CAN'T get the acid smell out of my mouth. It feels very chemical, almost like being in a hospital ward. I guess this is because of all the disinfectant that's being sprayed everywhere.

Hoses and bulldozers are all around us. It's as devastating as it ever was. My only solace is the thought that I am still alive.

1.00pm

I'VE just heard that they wanted to blow up the White House too. It's really frightening. Well-wishers lined the streets to say thank you to myself and colleagues earlier today.

"You're doing a great job,"" they kept saying. It made me glow inside.

2.00pm

FOUR victims are pulled dead from the rubble. We put them on stretchers, then someone takes them off to the mortuary.

There's nothing else we can do. It's terrible pulling firemen out of the wreckage. But these guys are the biggest heroes on the planet. They can say they died for their country and mankind.

4.15pm

I RING Maria who says she is proud of me. She says thousands of people have been donating blood to survivors. She's on her way to give her blood right now. I tell her to be safe and make sure one of our neighbours looks after the kids. I go back to work.

5.15pm

I HEAR Give Peace A Chance playing on the radio. For some reason that made me sing another John Lennon song to myself - Imagine. The line about imagining no religion rings so true today.

7.00pm

GETTING dark again. Luckily it wasn't so wet today and the rain from last night was cancelled out.

Haven't seen any survivors. My jaw hurts now - it got hit by a piece of broken glass. The Millennium Hotel - a building near the tower - looks dangerous.

So does the Lincoln Plaza, but there's no-one in there, thank God.

7.15pm

I AM told the buildings could topple any minute. But still we keep digging. All I find are two dead bodies. I can't go into detail about what they look like - it's too upsetting.

8.30pm

DARKNESS has descended again. At last the cloud of smoke is beginning to lift. But the dust and smell are all around us.

My chief Mike tells me it's going to be

another heavy day tomorrow. I promise to get in for 9am.

Now there are so many other paramedics, firemen and cops flooding in from LA and across America to help us.

9.00pm

ASLEEP again. My body aches. I kiss Maria then pass out after a steak and fries dinner. For the first time in days I'm hungry again. I hadn't felt like eating anything major up until now. But I've got to keep my strength up. It'll be another long day tomorrow.

FRIDAY

9.00am

JUMP in the shower and watch the news. They seem to think it's Bin Laden who sanctioned this attack. I turn off the TV because if I watch it I'll be too angry.

10.00am

HEAVY rain makes the whole site filthy. This is the worst day so far weather-wise. I haven't heard of anyone making it out alive so far today. Everyone is drenched from head to toe. I pull on my gas mask as the buildings sway in the wind.

With all the mud and dust, I really feel like I'm in the trenches. To be honest, I can't see many more survivors - but you never know. I keep reminding myself it could always be worse.

10.45am

I PAUSE for a few moments, for a coffee that some volunteers have brought round for us. I look around at the ruins. I've worked here all these days and it still seems like some nightmare I can't wake up from. But I'm back on duty soon.

This is my city. It breaks my spirit to see it lying in ruins. But I know my city and I know this - one day it will rise again and it will be greater than ever.

And we'll be able to tell our grandchildren we did our bit to help save it. It's breaking my heart to see my city now.. but I know it will rise again

Fireman Brian McGovern

yesterday

Pictures to accompany the article

TARGET: As the first tower blazes, Jet 2 closes in; DEATH DIVE: The hijacked plane's final second; IMPACT: Blazing jet slices through whole floors; INFERNO: As thousands of gallons of aviation fuel are ignited by the impact, an explosion of flame erupts in the centre of the South Tower, killing everyone on the plane and thousands in the building. The steel and concrete that supports the 110-storey building begins to melt...; INTO ACTION: A firefighter is just a blur as he runs into the danger =zone while terrified office staff file down stairs. Left: Fire Sgt John Sheehan, who escaped unhurt; DIVE TO DEATH: The impossible choice was to burn or jump... some chose to jump; LAST MOMENTS: Before the collapse; DEADLY RAIN: The first tower gives way; CLOUD OF DOOM: The sky fills with a massive pall of smoke and dust as the North Tower collapses taking away the last remnants of hope for thousands of people trapped inside; MASS TERROR: Chaos on the streets as crowds of panicking people rush from the debris as a New York landmark disappears forever; SHATTERED: Broken and mangled girders lie where they fell in the street. No one knows how many survivors are trapped underneath - or how many bodies will be brought out of a building which moments earlier was a shining symbol of American success; SAFE: New Yorkers march defiantly away from the blast scene; GHOSTLY FRUIT: Dust-covered apples inside the Center; HEROES: Devastated New York firefighters take a breather; WITH GOD: Fire Department Chaplain Mychal Judge is carried away from the wreckage. Father Judge was fatally injured when the towers collapsed while he was giving people last rites; SURVEYING THE WRECKAGE: A pair of stunned firefighters douse the flames on their own fire trucks, two of many that were caught in the sudden collapse of the World Trade Center towers; BROTHER IN ARMS: While the dust cloud turns day into night behind them, weeping rescuers carry an injured firefighter away from the scene; DEDICATED: Teams of rescue workers pass debris hand to hand as they carry out the harrowing task of searching for survivors amid the ruins of the World Trade Center's shattered facade.; From time to time everyone stops digging to listen closely for the sound of any trapped survivors; CATASTROPHIC: The tower wreckage; OVERWHELMED: One fireman's sorrow; NIGHTMARE: Unbelievable destruction; NIGHTMARE GOES ON: Though night has fallen, a band of determined rescuers continue the search for survivors under powerful; spotlights, dwarfed by the shattered steel shell of one of the World Trade Center towers - destroyed by fanatical religious hatred; SUPPORT: One relative cheers rescuers on; SON: Adolfo Rodriguez looks for his dad; SO MANY: Appeals for information fill walls; SEARCH: Rachel Uchitel seeks fiance James; FRIEND: Colleen Daily weeps for best pal; HEARTFELT: Bouquet left in Union Square; BLOODIED BUT UNBOWED: The twin towers have vanished into a plume of choking dust, but the Statue of Liberty is still a beacon of freedom

Copyright 2001 MGN LTD
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.