Fighting to Keep the Flame Alive

Walking home with friends last night from the base movie theater, we passed a flagpole on the parade grounds of Patch Barracks. At the base of the humongous pole was a tiny plastic pot with one white chrysanthemum sprouting from its soil.

“There’s our flower!” bellowed our friends’ four-year-old daughter, Megan.

Puzzled at first, we looked at our friends for clarification.

“Yea, we came here earlier today and had a little memorial to remember the people who died on 9/11,” said our friend, John Gormley, in a thick New York accent.

Looking up at John and the American flag above, I felt sick with guilt.

My husband first met John in the fall of 2006. They were bunkmates during pre-deployment training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I remember my husband calling me from the barracks to tell me about his new friend.

“You wouldn’t believe this guy, Honey, he is like a real life hero. New York City firefighter, F-14 Aviator, and he looks and sounds like a six-foot-four-inch version of Vinnie Barbarino. I keep telling him that someone should write a book about his life.”

Over the course of the training, my husband learned that John (call sign “Dice”) was a Naval Aviator who, after serving in the Persian Gulf War, returned home to his family and became a New York City Firefighter for Ladder Company 34. He fought fires, raised a family, and played defensive end for the FDNY’s football team, The Bravest.

Mercifully, when September 11, 2001, rolled around, John was out of the city on Navy reserve duty. Luckily, his wife, Kathleen, who worked in the World Trade Centers, was off on maternity leave.

That fateful day, 343 New York City Firefighters died as a result of the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers. Many of the fallen were John’s friends and coworkers.

John and the rest of Ladder Company 34 fought for many days to douse the inferno under the World Trade Center ruins. Last night, John told me about one of those days.

“I came home exhausted after fighting that fire. There was so much we had to do. It was overwhelming. I sat down in my chair, and my daughter Katelyn crawled up in my lap. I fell asleep, and after a while, I woke up, and there was Katelyn looking right at me. She said to me, ÔÇÿDaddy, I know you can do it. If you just try your best, you can do it, you can put out that fire.’ I couldn’t believe it. It was so sweet. That was just what I had said to her when I taught her to tie her shoes.”

After the US entered into war with Iraq, John volunteered to be a part of the fight. As an activated Navy Reserve aviator, “Dice” flew numerous combat missions. Later in 2006, he was training to serve a second tour of duty in the conflict in Afghanistan. That is when my husband shared a bunk with him.

At the end of training at Fort Jackson, my husband said good-bye to John, not expecting that they would ever cross paths again. But about a month ago, Dice walked into my husband’s office here in Stuttgart.

“Honey, you are never going to believe who is here on a reserve assignment — remember that guy I told you about back when I was training at Fort Jackson? You know, ÔÇÿDice’ the New York City Fireman?” he said excitedly over the phone that day.

I finally got to meet John, his wife, and his four freckled kids a few weeks ago, and our families made plans to go to the movies together last night.

While we all stood staring at the lonely flower at the flagpole’s base, John said in his Bronx accent, “Yea, the label said it was a chrysanthemum, and I’m not sure, but I think it has some kind of meaning.”

He was right. The chrysanthemum is a powerful symbol in many cultures. While Americans have always thought it expressed cheerfulness and hope, European’s use it to express grief. Asian cultures respect the flower as a symbol of truth and honesty.

No matter how you cut it, John picked the perfect flower to remember those who died in the terror attacks on 9/11. The chrysanthemum helps us to remember the truth of what happened, mourn those who died, and hope for a brighter future.

John told us he was surprised that no one had even mentioned 9/11 at work that week. He could not believe there were no memorial services, no tributes, not even a mention of it at the Friday briefing. So he and his family decided to hold a little memorial service of their own. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to us. On it, his daughter Katelyn had written what she and her siblings had said at their little service earlier that day.

As I read the crumpled words, I felt sad that, to many of us, September 11^th is just another day. We have all but forgotten the horrific events that threw our country into a state of shock just nine years ago.

Even though military soldiers and sailors continue to serve every day to fight terrorist threats related to the 9/11 events, the details of that fateful day have become foggy.

Have we become lazy or resigned to the changed world in which we live? Does anyone care that human remains from rubble of the World Trade Center attacks were still being positively identified as recently as June of this year? Or has September the 11^th become the symbol for bitter political debates about the war in Iraq, withdrawal from Afghanistan, and the building of a mosque on Ground Zero?

Regardless, John Gormley and his family serve as a model for the rest of us who have forgotten the importance of the events of September 11, 2001, when nearly 3000 Americans lost their lives at the hands of terrorists. Despite being a life-long firefighter, the memory of 9/11 is one flame that John Gormley refuses to put out.