Submitted by Jose A. Garcia, Chief Warrant Officer 5, USMC (Ret.)
I still remember where I was on that fateful day. I was at home, preparing to go to work in Lancaster, California, when my daughter called and told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I turned on the television and saw the second plane strike the South Tower. In that moment, I knew this was not an accident. We were under attack.
I was born and raised in New York City. Watching the city of my birth suffer such devastation left me at a loss for words. I was stunned and angry. Seeing people running for safety, the towers collapse, and the terrible suffering of those who had no way out is something I will never forget. When I learned about the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, my fears were confirmed. I knew then that our nation was at war.
My thoughts soon turned to my family. I learned that my cousin worked in one of the towers, and for several hours, no one knew whether he had survived. The uncertainty was unbearable. Then came the news that he was safe. He had been scheduled to work in the tower that morning, but the day before, he had been told to attend a meeting away from the building. Our family had been spared. I have never forgotten how fortunate we were.
At the time, I was serving in the Marine Corps Reserve as a Chief Warrant Officer 3 assigned to a tank battalion in San Diego, California. In December 2001, I transferred to an infantry battalion closer to where I lived. I became the new Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear Defense Officer. That decision would mark a turning point in my life.
During the Christmas holidays, I visited my parents with my future wife, Socorro. My brother took us to Ground Zero. Because of my father’s and my military IDs, we were allowed to enter the site. I witnessed a sadness and emptiness that are difficult to describe. Families had lost loved ones, and first responders were still working through the rubble. Behind me was a board displaying pictures of those who had been lost. One picture remains fixed in my mind: an ultrasound beside a photograph of a firefighter, with the inscription, “You are going to be an uncle.”
That image said more than words ever could. It reminded me that the people who died were not simply names or numbers. They were sons, daughters, parents, spouses, and friends. They had plans for the future. They had people waiting for them to come home.
I wanted to take a picture of the rubble, but I decided not to. It did not feel right. Instead, I carry that memory within me. I will never forget seeing smoke rising from the rubble, even three months after the attack. When we returned to my parents’ home, I remained quiet. There were no words that could adequately express what I had seen.
A few days later, on New Year’s Eve, my family gathered at my parents’ home to bring in the New Year. During the celebration, I received a call from the executive officer of my new unit, 2nd Battalion, 23rd Marines. He informed me that the unit had been activated and asked whether I would activate with the battalion. I said yes.
I told Socorro and my sister, but I did not tell my parents that night. I did not want to disrupt the family gathering. As I flew home, I thought about how quickly I would have to close down my real estate business and prepare my unit for war. The responsibility felt overwhelming, but I knew I had a duty to fulfill.
In my unit, I later learned that one of the Marines had lost his fiancée on September 11. His plane had been diverted to Canada that day. He had been at Boston Airport with his fiancée, and they were preparing to travel to different destinations for work. Their planes were next to each other, and as they boarded, they were able to see one another through the windows. That was the last time he saw her. Her plane struck the second tower.
Hearing his story reminded me that September 11 was not only about the destruction of buildings. It was about the destruction of lives, families, and futures. Every person who died left behind someone who loved them. Every family had a story, and every story mattered.
Within a year, I was serving in combat operations. I am proud to have served my country and to have continued my family’s legacy of service to the nation. My uncle Angel served in combat during the Korean War, and his example has always been meaningful to me. Serving after September 11 gave me a deeper understanding of what it means to answer the call of duty.
September 11, 2001, is more than a date in history. It is a day I remember through the faces of my family, the memories of Ground Zero, and the experiences of those who served. It reminds me of the importance of honoring those who were lost, appreciating those who helped, and carrying the lessons of that day into the future.
I remember the fear, the anger, and the uncertainty. But I also remember the courage, the sacrifice, and the strength of people who came together in the face of tragedy. Most of all, I remember that life is precious, that family matters, and that service to others is a responsibility worth carrying.
I will never forget.
Photo credits: U.S. National Archives (public domain) — Ground Zero and Pentagon flag by Paul Morse, White House Photo Office; Flight 93 temporary memorial, Department of the Interior Photographic Services.