As the attacks that Tuesday morning unfolded and news spread across the country, it left the nation’s children bewildered and confused—and imprinted on all of them, at all ages, lasting memories.
Sheryl Meyer, parent, Tulsa, Oklahoma: My son was going to turn one month old on the 12th. I had planned to take him out for his first walk in the stroller—it was very hot still in Oklahoma—and I woke up to a voice mail from my brother, who simply said, “Turn on the TV.” I sat in shock all morning and, eventually, decided to go out on the walk anyway. I remember such a surreal feeling every time a plane would fly over, as many rerouted flights did until air traffic was suspended. I also remember looking at my son and thinking how one day, he would know about these horrific events. I wish he didn’t have to know such evil exists.
Jenna Greene, parent, Maryland: I was running late, driving my two-year-old son to daycare a block from the White House. We listened to little kid songs like “Wheels on the Bus” during the entire drive—I had no idea what was happening, except I heard a lot of sirens. The director of the daycare met us at the front door, looking frantic. “Go home,” she said. “Turn around right now and go home. It’s not safe here.” I listened to WTOP radio on the drive back, and my son cried and cried—in part because we weren’t listening to “Wheels on the Bus,” but also because even he could tell something very bad had happened.
Beau Garner, Michigan: My only memory is my mom standing in front of the TV watching the news. I don’t remember seeing the Towers fall or seeing President Bush address the nation. The only thing I remember is how it affected my mother. The significance of the moment was somehow passed on to me regardless of my lack of comprehension; 9/11 was not just an early memory for me, it’s my earliest memory. Just a flash.
Lachlan Francis, Vermont: 9/11 is the first memory of my life. I remember a clearly distraught Mrs. Blanchard telling us that we would be going home early for the day. My daycare provider picked me and other students up in her minivan and brought us back to her house. This was the only day of daycare that we were ever allowed to watch television. My daycare provider watched the film of planes crashing into the Towers on loop as she frantically tried to call her daughter, who lived in Manhattan. The other students and I, clueless to the seriousness and tragedy of what we were watching, nonetheless sat transfixed in front of the couch, watching the video of planes crashing into the Twin Towers over and over and over again.
Blake Richardson, Connecticut: My mom said as soon as she saw on the news that the first plane crashed, she drove to school to pick up my siblings and me. Later, she explained to me that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center, and I had absolutely no idea what that meant. The next morning, I sat down in a circle on the rug with my kindergarten class, and we all talked about what happened. I remember being confused because my mom said “the World Trade Center” and my teacher said “the Twin Towers,” and I thought they were two separate buildings. I didn’t know about the other planes until maybe a year or so later. Now, I can’t imagine how terrifying that must’ve been for my teacher—to have to explain something so horrific to a room full of five-year-olds.
Jing Qu, Illinois: My mom worked at one of the high-rise buildings closest to the Sears Tower in Chicago. The school got the students home early, but I did not know why at the time. I remember my mom was home earlier than usual, too. She gave me a bath and asked me, “Do you know what happened?” She then told me that there was a horrible accident at the World Trade Center in New York City, a place we had visited a few months before. Terrorism and patriotism were not yet ideas that I understood. My mother, along with all the other workers in the tallest buildings in Chicago, were asked to evacuate.
Kelly Yeo, California: The sky was gray as my babysitter woke me up and told me, “You’re not going to school today. There’s going to be a war. Bad men have bombed New York City.”
Rikki Miller, Michigan: I was in Mrs. Smith’s first-grade class. We had a guest reader in the class reading Nate the Great. Mrs. Smith got a call. Slowly, students were called out of class. By the end of the day, only a few of us were left—my sister, a second-grader, and myself among them. When we got home, [my mom] told us about a terrible attack that took many lives. My mom didn’t want us to be scared of school, so she wasn’t going to pull us out.
Alma M., California: All the adults seemed weird. They were all on edge and something was wrong, everything was so quiet.
Robert Korn, Florida: Kids started leaving school early, picked up by their parents starting around 10:00 a.m. My mom picked me and my best friend up from our school. My mom was crying. She and my dad had both grown up on Long Island, and they lived in Manhattan together for over a decade before moving to Florida. When we got home, my dad made a couple sandwiches for my friend and me. He was a wreck. One of his friends from high school was a firefighter in New York City. He later found out that his friend died in one of the Towers, Thomas Joseph Kuveikis. I sat outside my house on the back patio with my friend; we ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and we watched the news. We sat there for at least three hours before my mom came back outside and turned the TV to the only network not showing the news, Cartoon Network. I knew that what was happening was not normal.
Tania Cohen, New York: There were Black Hawk helicopters flying over the house into the city. My grandma went into the kitchen and made a big batch of pancakes.
Hiba Elaasar, Louisiana: I was a pretty shy and quiet child, but I had made my first friend on my own. After that day, my friend came over and said, “We can’t be friends anymore, Hiba. My mom said until this is over, we can’t be friends anymore.”
Denise Sciasci, Pennsylvania: My teacher walked me up the steps with tears in her eyes, clenching my hand as if I was her own child. I wondered how something so bad could happen on such a beautiful, warm, and sunny day.
Alexa Cerf, Washington, D.C.: I was the new kid in school, so when the teacher said, “You might not know what the Pentagon is, but it’s a building that’s very important to us,” I thought she meant important to our school. That a plane had hit a building on campus. I was too embarrassed to ask which building was the Pentagon, but I tried to look out the window for a plane that had crashed.
Rebekkah Portlock, Alabama: That was the first time I realized that truly awful things could happen to people who didn’t deserve them.
Jessica Sweeney, New Jersey: “Is your mom OK?” I stared at my blond-haired best friend Alex as the rest of our third-grade class gazed at the TV. Alex’s big blue eyes looked right past me as she said, “I don’t know. She had a meeting there this morning.” I put my hand on her shoulder. Alex’s name stumbled from the loudspeaker, asking her to come to the office. I gave her my package of Dunkaroos—the one my mom had packed me for snack time—before my teacher took Alex downstairs. A few minutes later, Alex ran back into our classroom and hugged me, crying. She told me, “Her meeting in New York got canceled when she was on her way this morning. She turned around before she even crossed the bridge.”
Manar Hussein, New Jersey: The banner on the screen appeared, with the words in the lines of “suspected al-Qaeda, an Islamic terrorist group, hijackers . . .” as the news anchor tried to explain that we were under attack. The words were foreign to these third-graders, but the word “Islamic” they knew very well—it was the word I had used to introduce myself in these early days of school. A couple students started to look at me, riddling me with hard questioning stares. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed and apologetic for something that had nothing to do with me.
Matthew Jellock, Pennsylvania: Toward the end of the day, the school called on the public address system to inform us about what had happened. We were asked to stand up for a moment of silence as the song “God Bless the USA” played on the PA radio. I saw the magnitude of what happened when I got home and watched the television. It was a very somber experience and I was feeling like Why? Why did this happen?
Selena Gomez, Texas: Everyone was distraught.
Karen Zhou, California: I was a figure skater and practiced on the 5:00 a.m. [PT] session that morning. I don’t actually remember what I did during that hour-long session, but I do know that, at the end of it, I was happy. I bounded into the cafeteria, trying to get my mom’s attention, gleefully peppering her with questions about whether or not she saw me practice. I expected her to be all smiles; instead, her face was a sheet of white, as were all the faces of every other parent that was there.
Elizabeth Estrada, Texas: I didn’t know what the Twin Towers were or where they were located. I sat on top of one of the desks and cried. My four-year-old sister, along with her teacher, was later brought into the classroom to watch the news. I remember deliberately sitting behind her so that she couldn’t see me cry. I knew that even if she couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on, she would still be scared because of all the chaos. September 11th, 2001, was the first time I ever doubted the safety of my country.
Kristin Camille Chez, Florida: I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt so many people. They couldn’t possibly have known them all, what reason did they have?
Nick Waldo, Alaska: My mom told me that some planes had crashed, and being in rural Alaska, I thought a small plane had gone down because of bad weather. I was confused as to why it was a big deal. I said, “Oh, did we know anyone on them?”
Dana Meredith, Kansas: It was the tradition in my elementary school that the sixth-grade class take a three-day, two-night trip to an outdoor learning center. My class took that trip from September 10 to 12, 2001. I spent September 11, 2001, having fun with my friends. Canoeing in the morning, hiking and exploring an old cemetery in the afternoon, playing soccer and watching Apollo 13 in the evening. Very little was out of place, other than the looped contrails in the sky of planes forced to turn around—I still have a photo, taken on a disposable Kodak camera—and our principal canceling plans to join us because of “disciplinary problems” with a student, a white lie, I realized later. Our teachers sat us down the next day, before we left for home, to explain what had happened, although I could not conceive of the magnitude of the previous day’s events, nor did I even know what the World Trade Center was.
Jose Godinez, California: The events unfolded well before I got up for the second Tuesday of seventh grade. The teacher turned on the news coverage. I was glued to the screen, fascinated by the new terms I was learning. “Terrorism” had not entered my lexicon before that day. My understanding of the Middle East, until that day, was limited to Ancient Egypt.
Irene C. Garcia, California: When my siblings got ready for school, I usually occupied my time with morning cartoons. I remember flipping through the channels and being annoyed that what seemed like every single station was broadcasting the same program. As a child I just wanted to watch my cartoons. I kept flipping the channels until I decided to watch what was going on. I remember smoke coming out of a building and the broadcaster stating what a sad and tragic thing occurred in New York.
Michael, Pennsylvania: I was looking up the World Trade Center in the encyclopedia that was in the classroom.
Dan Shuman, Minnesota: Mostly I remember the feeling that went unspoken—or maybe couldn’t be put to words even by adults—that something horrible and incomprehensible had happened that had already changed things forever. At home, after school, I remember my dad telling me about when JFK was killed, when he was eight. He told me that America had gotten through that, and that it would get through this too.
Emily Bouck, Florida: My dad is a commercial airline pilot. He was working. All middle and high schoolers were herded into the gymnasium. I was hysterical on the bleachers. My Bible teacher pulled me out of the crowd and took me to the principal’s office: “Do you know where your dad is?” I didn’t. My dad was one of the last planes in the sky—having to turn back to Fort Lauderdale midroute, inbound to a New York–area airport. He was able to answer by the time I called. I’m still thankful for those few moments he was able to tell me he was safe, and for the teacher who looked out for me.
Kat Cosgrove, New Hampshire: I didn’t really understand the severity of it—a couple buildings a few states away had been hit by planes. I’m not sure I had ever said the word “terrorism” before. Once I got home I turned on the TV to try to figure out what was going on. I remember scrolling through more than 100 channels, seeing the same images of the Twin Towers falling, over and over. I counted 31 TV channels all airing live coverage of 9/11. When I saw that MTV and VH1 were also airing it, that’s when I realized how big a deal it was and started to get scared. It was suddenly not an adult problem, but something that I was supposed to be paying attention to too.
Kathryn Mastandrea, Connecticut: I remember walking into my social studies classroom and my teacher had written, “ ‘Religion is outraged when outrage is done in its name’—Gandhi.” I couldn’t process that it was an act of terrorism, I kept thinking that it was a series of terrible mistakes. Some of our teachers kept the news on, others attempted with the lessons of the day. At lunch, no one talked, and there was a line that stretched down the hallway to the two pay phones at the front of the school. As a bedroom community to New York, nearly everyone had at least one parent who worked in the city. My dad didn’t work in Manhattan, but traveled each week for work. I remember waiting in the line, my stomach in knots, waiting to get in touch with my mom to hear that my dad was okay.
Sean B., Alabama: I was trying something new that year, going for a new look, a new identity. I was learning to skateboard and in a punk rock band. A guy by the name of Steven sat in front of me. He was a tenth-grader, but for one reason or another he’s in my ninth-grade science class. Steven was the kind of guy I want to be—the character I was trying to become. Seconds after the television was turned on, before I have time to fully process what I was watching, I leaned forward and whispered to Steven, “Anarchy.” He laughed, and I instantly feel dirty. The guilt only grew as we continued watching the news. One of the greatest tragedies in our country’s history, and the first word out of my mouth was a joke.
Lourdes V. Baker, California: It was the first time I completely understood that nothing is simple, some things never make sense, and sometimes horrible things happen for no reason at all. It was the end of my childhood.
Bill Kuchman, New York: Something that stands out to me the most in my own memory of 9/11 was the juxtaposition between the surreal nature of the day and the monotony of the routines that I still followed. After spending the day at school, constantly trying to catch a glimpse of any new bit of information about the terror attacks, I still went to my high school job at my town’s public library that evening. I was scheduled to work that day, and I never thought of breaking from that routine. I went to work and numbly made it through the four-hour shift I was working as a sophomore.
I can’t remember how I found out that my local newspaper, the Rochester Democrat & Chronicle, had published an afternoon extra edition to cover 9/11, but by the time my dad picked me up from the library, I knew that I wanted a copy. After a weird Burger King dinner, my dad and I drove around, going from gas station to gas station in a futile attempt to find a copy of that extra edition. By this point in the night, the extra editions of the newspaper were long gone, but the quiet quest around town to find one is burned into my 9/11 memories.
Jon Kay, California: At around seven in the morning, the tone on KFI AM 640 changed drastically. Bill Handel read off the news ticker as if aliens had been spotted directly above Wilshire Boulevard. Picking up my carpool, suddenly 16 didn’t feel so old.
Tahlia Hein, New Jersey: September 11th was also picture day in my high school. If you were lucky enough to have a last name like Anderson or Charles, you probably made it through the gymnasium queue before 9:00 a.m. Your smile looks genuine. If you were a Daniels or an Elton, you probably picked up on the fact that Something Had Happened—gossip spreads like wildfire in any high school—but hadn’t yet gone back to a classroom with a television. If you’re a Gore or a Hein, like me, you were screwed. You had to watch the whole terrible thing unfold before your eyes, and then you had to sit to have your picture taken for the yearbook. The command to “Smile!” sounded like the worst insult.
Joanne Fischetti, Staten Island: We were told we should leave school and go immediately home. I remember walking to the park with my best friend and talking about whether things will be the same again and whether we’d be able to have a prom, be able to go to college, go to war, or what would happen next for America. It’s amazing how easy it was to lose that feeling of safety.
Michael Szwaja, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign: I tried to focus on rehashing the reading I had done the night before for my ethics in journalism quiz. As I walked in the door and quickly took my seat, I realized the quiz wasn’t going to happen. The professor had both TVs in each corner of the classroom tuned to two different channels, each reporting on that World Trade Center crash. “Just keep watching,” our professor said. “Today’s lesson just changed.”
Mallory Carra, New York University: A long line of people waited for an actual pay phone while trying to use their cell phones. The internet on all of the NYU library computers was painfully slow. After 10 minutes of pressing “refresh,” I read a three-lined AP story to my friend Jia aloud. “Two planes have crashed into World Trade Center.” It took me a second to even realize what those words even meant. In this pre-Twitter world, I finally summed up my feelings in my LiveJournal at 9:14 a.m., “omg i am so scared.”
Daphne Leigh, Ripon College, Wisconsin: I called my friend Andy over in the freshman boys’ dorm. He very sleepily answered. In the calmest voice possible, I told him to turn on the TV and call me back. As we watched, it happened again [a plane flew into the second tower]. Almost immediately my phone rang. It was Andy, calling to tell me he saw it, and that he was “signing up.” I was stunned, at first not even knowing what he meant. He kept talking, telling me that he had to call his mom, and that he’d stay and finish freshman year, but he was signing up because that’s what you do. Andy did sign up. He joined the National Guard that year.
Natasha Wright, George Washington University, D.C.: I will never forget how surreal it was returning to the dorm and turning the TVs on. Finding out the Pentagon had been hit. Watching residents of the Watergate across the street from us be evacuated as we were on lockdown and couldn’t leave. The panic began to spread; students on my floor cried together. Some residents packed bags to walk across the bridge and out of the city. Most of us sat in shock. I cried—a lot. We barely knew one another and we were instantly bonded.
Daphne Leigh: I contacted friends from home via our only means at the time, AOL Instant Messenger, as we were scattered around the country. We all shared the same fears.
Ernie Smith, Michigan State University: It was my first real time living away from home—I had only moved in two weeks prior. When those two towers were hit—there it was: my first real memory of being on my own.
Michael Szwaja: That was the first moment since I arrived at college where I felt like I needed my mom and dad, and they weren’t there.
Courtney Kirkpatrick, University of Texas: Suddenly being out in the world felt exhausting.
At 2:50 p.m. ET (1:50 p.m. local time), Air Force One landed at Offutt Air Force Base, outside Omaha, Nebraska.
Adm. Richard Mies, commander, U.S. Strategic Command (STRATCOM), Offutt Air Force Base: We didn’t know that he was coming to Offutt until about 15 minutes before. There wasn’t much communication with Air Force One at all. There wasn’t going to be any pomp and circumstance. I had my driver and a Secret Service agent, and the three of us went out to the runway to greet Air Force One in my plain Chrysler.
Sgt. Chad Heithoff, Maintenance Unit, Offutt Air Force Base: They announced a ramp freeze—meaning no one could move on the ground—and the next thing I knew there were security forces everywhere, full flak jackets, M-16s. We could see Air Force One coming in, with two fighters escorting it. It was chilling and scary.
Staff Sgt. William “Buzz” Buzinski, security, Air Force One: Landing at Offutt was probably the one funny moment of the day. I’m a big guy—6-foot-4, 270—but Will Chandler’s also a huge guy, he’s 6-3, 250. We always said he’s got hands the size of a TV screen. Well, we were the first two off the plane. The rear stairs are always down first; you get off and guide the front stairs in. When we got off, underneath the jet were five or six maintainers, who were trying to plug the plane into ground power. No one told us they’d be there—all we saw were this group of five guys. Chandler yelled: “Clear the area!” He just let out this bellow. Well, it was like cats scattering—they dropped radios, dropped the cable. They were panicked—there’s this big guy coming at them. It was hysterical. I laughed.
Richard Balfour, security, Air Force One: We didn’t know who was friend or foe, even on the bases. We kept everybody at arm’s length, away from the aircraft.
Dave Wilkinson, assistant agent in charge, U.S. Secret Service: By the time we got to STRATCOM, there were like 15 to 20 planes still unaccounted for nationwide. People will say it was only six, but there were a lot more than that. For everything we knew, they were all hijacked. But even as we landed, they started to kick them off quickly.
Adm. Richard Mies: I decided to bring the president down into the command center via the fire escape entrance. That was the most expedient option. I’d never used it before. It was there for emergencies. I had them open it from the inside.
Brian Montgomery, director of advance, White House: There were a lot of airmen in battle gear lining the route to the bunker. We pulled up to this five-story office building, and instead of walking in the front door, the admiral said, “No, we’re going in there.” We headed into this concrete building, just a door. We went down and down and down, pretty far underground.
Ellen Eckert, stenographer, White House: When he went into the bunker, wow. That’s still a scene in the movie in my head all these years later. Clearly the only way to go was down. We stood outside, waiting. We smoked a million cigarettes, all my new chain-smoking friends.
Eric Draper, presidential photographer: I finally had a chance to call my wife. I said, “Honey, I’m going to be home a little late tonight.” I could hear her laugh through the phone, even as she was crying. She said, “I saw you with the president, so I knew you were OK.”
Adm. Richard Mies: We went directly into the command center. That really caught [the president’s] attention. All these soldiers, they’re all in battle dress. CNN was prominently displayed—a lot of footage of the two towers. We had four to six TV screens, all energized. I sat him down where I normally sit, and walked him through what he was seeing, so he had an awareness.
Andy Card, chief of staff, White House: It was right out of a TV movie set—all these flat-screen TVs, all these military people, you could hear the fog of war, all these communications from the FAA and the military. But it was tough for the military folks—they all wanted to stand and show respect to the commander in chief, but you could tell they wanted to sit and do their jobs. Everyone was schizophrenic, half-sitting and half-standing, everyone was moving around. After a few minutes, the president turned to me, “I want to get out of here—I’m making it hard for these people to do their job.”
Maj. Scott “Hooter” Crogg, F-16 pilot, 111th Fighter Squadron, Houston: All the rules that fighter pilots spend their lives living by were now out the window. When we landed at Offutt we got more gas and picked up maps for the rest of the country. There were always maps and approaches for the country in base operations, but all the maps always said, “Do not remove from base operations.” We took all of them and stuffed them in our bag.
Colonel Tillman walked into base operations and we finally started to get some information. The president was actually an alumn[us] of our unit in Houston, and Colonel Tillman told us, “He feels comfortable with you guys and wants you to continue with us.” We told him we’d sit back about five miles—you don’t get that close to something that valuable, for all sorts of reasons—but if something happened, we can eat up that range real quick.
Adm. Richard Mies: The VTC [video teleconference] was the three of us, the operator, and his military aide. There was no real audience. We listened as everyone reported in. Richard Clarke of the National Security Council, Transportation Secretary Norm Mineta, Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage, National Security Adviser Condi Rice, CIA Director George Tenet. Most of the initial conversation in the VTC was focused on who did this. There was a lot of speculation. It was too early to make definitive. Then we were talking about: How do we restore some sense of normalcy quickly, both for New York and for the country? And then how does the president get back to Washington?
Col. Matthew Klimow, executive assistant to the vice chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Gen. Richard Myers, Pentagon: At 3:15, there was a teleconference with President Bush. The president was firm and in control and I felt inspired. I remember very well his exact words as he started the teleconference. He said, “I want everybody who’s listening to this SVT”—which means secure video teleconference—“[to know] that no faceless thugs are going to hold this country at bay.”
Norman Mineta, secretary of transportation: He said, “We’re going to find out who did this. We’re going to seek them out. And we’re going to destroy them.”
Col. Matthew Klimow: Someone spoke up, and I don’t know who, and they used profanity. President Bush said, “Look, first thing: get the facts straight. Second: clean up your language. And my reaction was just what yours was.” Everybody chuckled.
Josh Bolten, deputy chief of staff, White House: The whole tenor of the presidency changed immediately at that moment.
Mike Morell, presidential briefer, Central Intelligence Agency: When Tenet explained that he had evidence pointing to al-Qaeda, the president turned around and looked at me—his look clearly said, What the fuck happened here? You were supposed to tell me first. I tried to explain with my look that I was sorry—I didn’t know how my message had gotten lost. I went to a nearby office and called Tenet’s assistant, angry. I felt like I’d let the president down.
Andy Card: We all suspected that it was al-Qaeda. I’d thought that since the classroom door. It wasn’t that dramatic of a moment actually. Think of what would’ve happened if he’d told us that it was Russia, China, or another nation-state? Or an American splinter group?
Maj. Gen. Larry Arnold, commander of the 1st Air Force, NORAD, Tyndall Air Force Base, Florida: We had just about everybody on the ground, but we were concerned about one aircraft. It was a USAir flight that had taken off from Madrid and was going to JFK. It was the last aircraft that had been called “potentially hijacked.” The phone rang from Bob Marr and he said, “We just got word from USAir that that airplane turned around.” I picked up the phone from my executive officer and I heard the president again talking to the secretary of defense. I interrupted and said, “Mr. President, the last airplane has landed. Everything is down that we can see.” He did not question it. It was just, “I am going back to Washington.”
Julie Ziegenhorn, public affairs officer, Offutt Air Force Base: We were working at our desks and all of a sudden, there was the president striding down the hallway. He walked right out the front door, waving to us. He shouted, “Thanks for all you’re doing!”
Gordon Johndroe, assistant press secretary, White House: We were there with the press pool and our Secret Service agent said, “Oh my gosh, we’ve got to go right now. The president’s leaving.” Ann Compton was on with Peter Jennings. I didn’t want to panic her or the nation by making it seem like we were leaving abruptly, but we needed to leave. I mouthed, “We have to go.” She was on the radio and she said, “I’m told we’re leaving. I don’t know where we’re going.” Peter Jennings said, “Godspeed, Annie.”
Col. Mark Tillman, presidential pilot, Air Force One: We thought he was going to be there for a while. I was in base operations and someone came in and said, “I think the president’s headed back to the plane.” I said, “Nah.” He said, “No, I’m pretty sure I just saw him drive by.” I started to race back to the plane. He’d already gotten there. He’s waiting at the top of the stairs and told me, “Tillman, we got to get back home. Let’s get back home.”
Maj. Scott Crogg: No one told us that Air Force One was leaving, so we were like, Oh shit, are they starting up? We’re racing to get our planes in the air, but it takes some time. We met the minimum safety requirements and hit the air. A 747 configured like that—gosh, that’s a fast airplane. We didn’t want to go supersonic, it’d burn up too much fuel, so we talked to them, and we had to reel them in.
* * *
With the president’s orders and mind-set clear—but the president himself still hours away from Washington—aides back at the White House moved ahead with briefing the press about the state of the nation’s response.
Nic Calio, director of legislative affairs, White House: We had a long discussion about what we should be doing, whether we should all be going out and be seen publicly. We decided to do a briefing. There was a discussion—Mary Matalin was there, Scooter Libby—about whether we should go out in force and say, “Here’s the White House staff. We’re out. It’s safe.” Our intent was to send a reassuring message. In the end, we just sent Karen Hughes.
Karen Hughes, communications director, White House: The Secret Service thought the White House press room was still not safe, so they took me, surrounded by agents with their weapons drawn, to the nearby FBI headquarters. I remember feeling vulnerable; we didn’t know who the enemy was or where they might be lurking. My colleague Mary Matalin, counselor to Vice President Cheney, came with me; I remember being grateful to have a friend by my side. I read from a prepared statement I had typed myself. The text was faded and barely legible in places; the printer in the emergency center had been low on ink. “I’m Karen Hughes, counselor to President Bush, and I’m here to update you on the activities of the federal government in response to this morning’s attacks on our country. . . .”