Lieutenant Mickey Kross
Engine Company 16
FDNY

On September 11, I was a Lieutenant with Engine 16 of the New York City Fire Department.  The first I heard that something was wrong was from a friend, Christine, who lived downtown; she called to tell me that she’d heard a very loud noise and the windows in her building were rattling.  I wasn’t sure what to think, but soon heard an official report of over the department radio.  It confirmed that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center but I never imagined it was a large commercial aircraft.       

At about 8:50 a.m., my unit was dispatched to the site.  We responded with six men, including the driver and myself, down the FDR and up Broadway against the traffic, trying to avoid West Street, which was already becoming congested with emergency vehicles.  We were in front of Century 21 on Church Street when the second plane hit the South Tower.  I thought it was another explosion in the North Tower.  There was steel and debris coming down everywhere like meteors. 

We parked near a fire hydrant on Park Place, which was standard operating procedure.  I gave my men a short pep talk, and we proceeded south on West Street.  We had been dispatched to 1 WTC, which happened to be the north tower of the World Trade Center, but being unfamiliar with the area, we didn’t know which buildings were which.  Fortunately, the buildings were clearly marked so we figured out which tower to enter.  

The lobby of the North Tower, where the on-site fire command station was, was full of officials from all the local agencies as well as a number of firefighters who were already staged there, waiting to receive their orders.  My unit was instructed to team up with another engine company and ascend the B stairway to a command post on the 23rd floor.  This was the designated “attack” stairway, customarily reserved for first responders to carry out our duties, rather than for evacuation by civilians but, in the chaos, people were using any stairway they could get to, so it was a crowded ascent. 

We were assigned to team up with Engine Company 1, which happened to be my old unit, so I knew all the men except the officer.  We decided to ascend with one officer at the lead and one in back.  I took the back.  As was procedure, we had our men wait on the 22nd floor, while we proceeded to 23.

While searching for the chief on the 23rd floor, I heard a commotion in the C stairwell.  A lady who worked for the Port Authority was in bad shape and having trouble descending.  Her supervisor, Joe Garcia, had helped her down from the 70’s, but she seemed unable to proceed.  I told them to get to stairway B for assistance.  They were frightened to leave the stairwell, so I raised my voice to get them moving.  A group of firefighters from Ladder Company 6 eventually began assisting her down the stairs. 

I believe this was before the South Tower came down, though there were so many rumors flying—missiles hitting, a third plane coming in—that we didn’t what was going on.  When the South Tower did in fact collapse, the tower that I was in shook, but I didn’t know what the cause was; I thought it might be an elevator vibration   

I searched the 23rd floor for the chief but wasn’t able to find him, so I headed back to 22.  It was there that I received an order to evacuate the building.  I descended down the B stairs with the officer from Engine 1 who was assisting the civilian.  Because of her condition, it was a very slow descent, one step at a time.  The guys from my unit fortunately became separated from me and proceeded out ahead. 

We had finally made it down to about the 3rd floor when we suddenly heard this tremendous noise.  Hurricane winds overcame the stairwell and picked me up.  I moved towards the railing to try to make myself as small as possible for shelter; I literally tried to squeeze myself into my helmet. Debris hit me from all angles and enveloped the stairwell in total darkness.  I didn’t know what was happening, that the entire tower was collapsing down on top of us, but whatever it was, I didn’t think it was something I could overcome.  My prayer was that it just be quick. But, just as suddenly as it began it ended, and I was engulfed by a total silence. 

I tried to determine if I was hurt; I couldn’t imagine that I could’ve gotten through this without injury; but everything seemed to be ok.  I was still curled up, like in an eggshell, completely encapsulated.  I soon heard calls from others and realized I wasn’t alone.  The wall to my right had collapsed, but I was hesitant to try to jump to a more open part of the stairwell, fearing it would cause a secondary collapse.  But I decided to take my chances and was able to make it safely.  I found that some firefighters from another unit and a Port Authority police office, as well as several others in our area, had also survived the collapse relatively unharmed.  Others nearby were alive, but severely injured.  I later heard that twelve firefighters were killed by the wall that collapsed to my right. 

I could feel a slight breeze on my face, which made me realize that there must be an opening nearby.  Of course none of us imagined that the entire building had come down; at most, we thought there had been a partial collapse in the stairs.  On and off, we saw flickers of light above us. I thought it was some kind of emergency lighting going on and off, but I realized later it was daylight being filtered by dirty air.   

We turned off some of our radios to conserve them but kept one on to try to communicate.  We transmitted a number of maydays. We spoke directly with a firefighter buried up to his neck below us who did not make it out.  He asked us to say goodbye to his wife and kids. 

I didn’t have much of a sense of time but, after about two and a half hours, we received a response on the radio.  It was from a chief who was a personal friend of the battalion chief who was with us, so we knew he would do everything he could to get us out.  When he asked where we were, we told them stairway B of tower 1.  We had no idea that neither tower was even standing anymore.  They were miraculously able to track us by using some type of digital photograph.  I’m not sure how they did it, but they got to us. 

We were given rope to help us extricate ourselves from the debris and we crawled out one by one, but at the top, were faced with a minefield of jagged surfaces and beams.  You had no idea where you could and couldn’t step.  I started walking what I now know now was east but it brought me to a less stable area.  I was told to turn around. Everything from the offices was pulverized, like a blizzard, except a two of clubs playing card which I found in the debris and still have today.  Eventually, I saw my captain coming up the pile and that’s when I realized that I was probably going to be all right.     

There was a desk set up on West and Vesey with a list of about 400 firefighters who were presumed dead, including myself. I still can’t believe that I was able to cross my name off that list, but 343 members of my department remained on there permanently, including many longtime personal friends, six firefighters from Ladder 7, the unit we shared our firehouse with, and the officer from engine 1, who I’d just been traveling up the stairs with.  I stayed at the site until 10 p.m. that evening, and returned every day for approximately three months to bring them home.   

I don’t like to revisit the memories of that day, and thankfully some have been erased from my mind, but I feel compelled to try to remember and express what happened there for sake of those who can’t.