“We Never Leave our Brothers Behind”
Story by:
Major David C. Andersen, USMC, New York City PAO
AP
GROUND ZERO, NEW YORK -- Pain shot through my back in
the late night hours of 6 March 2002 from the weight of the stretcher, but
Marines always complete the mission. With Sgt. Maj. Michael S. Curtin, 45,
USMCR (RET) & NYPD, in my left hand and his wife and daughter only feet in
front of me, sense of duty led the way as it has for many men better than I
for hundreds of years.
As we picked up the Sergeant Major, I thought back to
only hours ago when my U.S. Marine Corps Public Affairs Office in
Midtown-Manhattan received the call that we stood ready for since September
11. In fact, I received four calls in about three minutes from numerous
Emergency Services Unit men -- better known as "E-MEN" throughout the famed
New York City Police Department. The messages were all the same, "Dave, get
down here - we found the Sergeant Major."
We proceeded down off of a small plateau on the North
side of the dig, which probably would have put us in sub-level five (five
stories underground) of Tower One. My mind wandered to Sergeant Major's
wife Helga, a former Marine, and his three daughters Jennifer, 15; Heather,
14; and Erika, 12. The native of Rocky Point, N.Y. had become a folk hero
in the NYPD as he ran his Truck like a platoon - a platoon of Marines.
"TRUCK-2" is located on 125th Street in Harlem and upon entering one might
think they have entered a company office at Camp Lejeune or a barracks at
Camp Schwab as proud men go about their business with Marine Corps haircuts
and squared-away uniforms - Sgt. Maj. Curtin had obviously been here.
Leveling out at about sub-level seven in a pool of
soupy-mud heading south toward the exit-ramp, I glanced back over my
shoulder and saw the Ground Zero flag that I grabbed out of our office on
the way downtown. It had been signed by the victim’s families months prior
and we were able to get it to the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit on the USS
Bataan who then took it ashore to fly it in the face of terrorism over the
Kandahar Airport in Afghanistan. Who gave it to us? E-Men that Curtin
knew. Curtin had loved the American Flag, his family had told me, and it
was fitting that he lay next to me covered in the flag that he raised in
Kuwait City a decade ago. That flag had been waiting for him in a box in
the ESU Headquarters that I noticed on occasion marked "THIS FLAG IS FOR
SGT. MIKE CURTIN ONLY!!!!!!!!" And of course to make it complete - the
Marine Corps colors were also present and were carried by two of his TRUCK-2
E-MEN.
As we started up the bridge, the voice of what had to
be a former Marine rang out throughout the 16-acre complex - "present
arms!" The exit-ramp was lined with hundreds of proud members of the NYPD,
ESU, PAPD, FDNY and Steel Workers with the night lit up by thousands of
flashing emergency-vehicle lights. As we pushed forward keeping step with
former Marine and Police Commissioner Ray Kelly, I thought of the infamous
story that made the Sergeant Major a Marine Corps folk hero. It was not the
story of his rescue efforts at the first Trade Tower’s bombing in 1993, but
rather the story of him spotting the red stripe of Capt. Randolph L.
Guzman's, USMC, dress-blue trousers in the rubble of the Oklahoma City
bombing. He located a group of former Marines and then took approximately
seven hours to pull him out as he said, "we never leave our brother's
behind." He managed to free the “Skipper” who was probably watching this
procession waiting to thank Mike one day. They carried him out draped in an
American flag with his dress blue trousers sticking out with his shined
shoes pointing toward heaven's gates. All was quiet. No talking. No
machinery. Only the sound of a million thoughts - much like I could hear at
this very moment heading out of the hole.
As we approached the top, I noticed that an ESU Truck
was waiting for him - his truck...TRUCK-2. We hoisted the Sergeant Major up
high - hands reaching with fingertips out stretched - and I wondered if
anyone shared my thoughts at that very moment. It was reminiscent of the
out stretched fingers of another famous group of Marines years ago on a
small island in the South Pacific. Finally, with one last adjustment needed
to secure the stretcher, a body was needed to jump up and climb to the top.
Who scrambled to the top of the huge truck? Who else - Helga, his wife. In
front of hundreds of tough cops - she made the last adjustment to take care
of her husband much like I imagine he did for her for many years. That
simple act was breath-taking - an act that the Sergeant Major represented
for years - selflessly helping other people and NOT wanting to be recognized
for it.
We then headed North on the FDR. The motorcade was
long and bright as we approached the 0100 hour. All traffic was stopped and
civilians stood outside their halted cars lining the roads with hands over
hearts and hats off. Motorcycle cops at every intersection had salutes at
the ready. At the morgue, my Gunny and I folded the flag under the watch of
many eyes. Suddenly, TRUCK-2 members and other E-MEN stepped forward to aid
us. We presented the colors to Helga and then took care of the Sergeant
Major.
My ride home was long. Covered in mud that I never
wanted to wash off. I hoped and prayed that we did the Curtin family proud
as well as our nation. I think the Sergeant Major would have been proud. I
also thought that although my Marines and I have seen the pile shrink on a
daily basis - it is still there. It will always be there. The billions of
tears that have fallen on this earth will never be washed away and we cannot
forget. The mangled iron, smell and feeling is still lurking in that hole
and I feel it everyday - you just cannot see, hear or smell it on the
television.
I shed a tear coming out of "the pit" that night as I
held my head high. I also felt like there were a band of brothers waiting
at the top all dressed in our Corps' uniforms from day’s gone bye. Then it
really hit home that the bridge was symbolic - it was a long steep trek up
seven stories, but Sergeant Major Curtin made it out of that hell-hole led
by his wife, carried by the entire Corps, and the rest of his country that
he loved so much - REMEMBER THE TOWERS.
AP
Sergeant
Michael Curtin
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