A Pretext for War Read Online Free PDF Page A

with GeneralCologne Re, was attending a conference in her Stamford, Connecticut, offices. Hearing of the explosion at the World Trade Center, she quickly went for her phone, where she found a message from Rooney. “It’s the other building,” he said. “I’m all right. But what I’m seeing is horrible.” Relieved, Eckert went back to her meeting.
    When Steve McIntyre returned to American Bureau of Shipping after finding an open emergency stairwell, the other employees were gathered in the reception area. Quickly, they began making their way down. Despite the confusion, Claire McIntyre had managed to grab her pocketbook and flashlight. “The first two flights were dark,” she recalled, “with no emergency lights, and water was pouring down the stairs. We could barely see, and I put my flashlight on. Then the emergency lights came on, and water was still flowing down.” But the slick, oil-covered debris was treacherous and colleague Emma “Georgia” Barnett slipped and fell down three flights of stairs. She got right back up, but this time she tripped over a hose, injuring her knee. Still, determined to survive, she continued down with the rest.
     
     
    As the occupants of Tower One struggled to get out, air traffic personnel were becoming increasingly worried about the fate of United Flight 175 out of Boston. At 8:52, the same moment Duffy and Nash became airborne from Otis Air National Guard Base, a technician at New York Control once again tried to reach the missing aircraft. “UAL175,” he said, “do you read New York?” But, just as with Flight 11, there was only icy silence. Growing more and more concerned, he checked that his equipment was working correctly and asked whether other locations may have picked him up. “Do me a favor, see if UAL175 went back to your frequency,” he asked a southern traffic control center. “He’s not here,” came the response.
    After another minute of agonizing quiet, the controller expressed his suspicion. “We may have a hijack,” he told a colleague. “I can’t get ahold of UAL175 at all right now, and I don’t know where he went to. UAL 175, New York,” he called again. But by then the hijackers were in full control of United Flight 175. Near Albany, they made a U-turn back to the east and were at that moment screaming south toward Manhattan over the Hudson Valley at about 500 miles per hour—more than double the legal airspeed. The hijack pilot probably followed the Hudson River, like a thick line on a map, directly toward his target: Tower Two of the World Trade Center.
    Among those watching the events unfold on television was John Carr, the president of the National Air Traffic Controllers Association. Shortly before nine, his cell phone beeped. “Hey, John, are you watching this on TV?” said one of his associates. “Yeah, I am,” replied Carr. “That’s American 11,” said the friend. Carr nearly dropped his coffee. “My God, what are you talking about?” he said. “That’s American 11 that made that hole in the World Trade Center.” Carr still could not believe it. “You’re kidding me,” he said. “No,” replied his friend. “And there is another one that just turned south toward New York.” Then, referring to United Flight 175, he added ominously, “We lost him, too.”
     
     
    Over in Tower One, Steve McIntyre and his fellow employees were still attempting to make their way down the crowded and rubble-strewn stairwell. “We stopped at around the eighty-fifth floor to take stock and to calm each other,” McIntyre recalled. “That was much better. We realized the fire was above us and that it was clear below. We just had to get down.” His emotional state was “up and down like a yo-yo,” he said. “We were completely encased in tunnels. And then we would open a door onto a floor and there would be guys fighting a fire, and then we would open another door and there would be people just milling around.” As people or debris