At
precisely 8.46am the crowd of on-duty fire fighters, transit police
and dozens of others joined the entire city of New York in observing
a somber minute of silence.
From
Leut Greg Keeley
in New York
THE city had an unusual feel. It was difficult to quantify and
indeed identify the air around NYC on the first anniversary of
the attacks on the World Trade Centre – but there was an
edge to the general hustle and bustle.
As
one of the thousands in the crowd which was made up of the grieving,
the respectful and the curious, I made my way toward ground zero
for the ceremony to commemorate those who perished. It was quiet
for rush hour. The cars and taxis were still jostling for position
on the gridlocked streets, yet the horns and sirens which are
ever present in New York were strangely silent.
I
was unable to make it through to the World Trade Center site.
About
10 blocks away an anxious and nervous young female NYPD officer
informed me that I needed a special blue pass to get any closer.
That, I was told, was reserved for the “911 family”,
as they have become known in the US.
So
I turned off Broadway into an unusually quiet Cross St, where
I joined the on-duty fire fighters, transit police and dozens
of others for a moving, intimate service.
At
precisely 8.46am this disparate group joined the entire city of
New York in observing a somber minute of silence.
A
number of shops and even the “we never close” New York
delis were shuttered up for the morning. Just before 10.30 church
bells began to toll – to commemorate the collapse of second
and final tower.
The
wind was really whipping down the avenues and bringing with it
mini dust storms – I saw a number of a uniformed firefighters
returning from the ground zero memorial covered in dust. It was
a surreal and unnerving image.
The
security around the UN building was extraordinary – a police
checkpoint on every corner. Up to 10 officers, comprising NYPD
and Secret Service, two or three police cruisers and, curiously,
two dump trucks filled with sand, engines running – at every
intersection. A policeman explained the trucks could block the
streets at a moment’s notice.
That
afternoon the consulates of Australia and New Zealand held a joint
memorial service for the 10 Australians and two New Zealanders
who perished.
The
large crowd was made up of the victim’s families (35 family
members traveled from Australia), expats, local New Yorkers and,
to everyone’s surprise, political maverick Pauline Hanson.
Australian
Consul General to NY, Ken Allen read a message of hope from Prime
Minister John Howard, followed by stirring renditions of the national
anthems to open the service.
Perhaps
the most moving moment came when Cameron McCarthy performed the
traditional Aboriginal song Ginang.
Listening
to the didgereedoo and the tapping sticks echoing through the
cavernous church, one could almost smell the gum trees. It was
a little piece of mythical Australia smack bang in the middle
of the mighty city.
The
service was followed by a wake of sorts, at a local bar. It was
as if walking into Fremantle’s Sail and Anchor – the
atmosphere was so much like home. The New Zealand-owned watering
hole was packed to the rafters with Australians and Kiwis.
There
was talk of the dramatic changes experienced in the past year
and conjecture over President George Bush’s speech at the
UN scheduled for the following day.
The
security upon arriving back at the Crowne Plaza was tight as a
marine corps snare drum. While explaining to a rather bored yet
particularly menacing Secret Service Agent my need to breach security
in order to sleep, a motorcade of 14 vehicles roared down 42nd
Street. Six huge, black four-wheel drives; an equal number of
NYPD cruisers and two limousines flew past. Secret Service agents
were literally suspended from the window frames scanning onlookers
with M16 assault rifles at the ready. It was very Terminator 2.
It
was certainly a Big Apple moment that ended a moving and extraordinary
day – 9/11 in New York.
