attack

It all seemed too easy. Two normal commercial planes going on with their businesses, packed with passengers, upon a sharp detour, crashed in to the monumental twin towers of New York. Hijackers had boarded the doomed planes together with individuals who hadn't had the slightest notion that their final hours were arriving. The US radar and the $10 billion-a-year anti-terrorism system, sophisticated as it might be, could not scan or read into the minds of the men on the suicidal missions. Ominously, it was a plan designed not to fail, in an infalliable country.

Time magazine (September 24th) paralleled the attack to that of the fight between David and Goliath. The David who managed to kill the Philistine giant despite owning the simplest weaponry against the technology that Goliath possessed. How very apt.

It was an attack of a similar nature. It was downright simple, yet screams loudly of unjust. The terrorists, in their attack against capitalist America, used an unwarranted tactic-- bringing harm on unarmed, unprepared and innocent men. Some referred this to Pearl Harbour II. But it seems on the contrary. The attack on Pearl Harbour 1941 was an attack on militarily able men, men who were prepared to sacrifice anytime. This, was an attack on civilians-- daddies and mommies who had just dropped their kids off at morning school, dedicated white-collared workers, air-borned hapless passengers, got the brunt of the attack against America.

Within minutes of the attack, pictures of the ill-fated buildings ran throughout the world. TV sets were tuned to CNN and BBC as local viewers hungrily absorbed precious information about the disaster. Individuals who had families or friends in New York, were quick on their toes to check on them, ensuring that they were safe. For others like me, who weren't directly related or involved in the disaster, what we could do, it seemed, was to stay glued to the TV sets, offering out prayers in silence. Nothing much we could do, though heart-wrenching stories of friends trapped in the towers and reports offering stories of the bereaved came trooping along. Stories of high-flying CEOs who had been having breakfasts at the top levels of the WTC then, husbands and wives who were lost, the 350 brave firemen who embarked on life-saving missions which turned out to be on an Operation: death, came our way.

Brian Sweeney rang his wife 8 minutes before his flgiht crashed into the south tower, telling her "I hope that I will call you again. But if not, I want you to have fun. I want you to live your life. I know I'll see you someday." The much decorated Captain Pat Brown of the NYFD when persuaded not to go into the doomed building, indignantly yelled "Are you nuts? We've got a job to do!", went in, and was never to be seen again.

Stories like these lend a humane touch to the tragedy. Stories of the brave and courageous that make us feel that we can derive strength from the hardness and intensity of the attack. Questions that run through many minds would be similar-- After September 11th, would our lives ever be the same again? Would we have the flinch at the slightest sound that aircrafts that patrol our airspace make? As individuals, we might not be able to control the fate of war, or contemplate the best attack plan on the suspects. But as individuals, we can bond together, help shoulder the grief, and keep the brave ones who perished, in our memories.