Madison shares personal 9/11 stories

Pete and Denise Grogan. Pete was in the Pentagon the day of the attacks 10 years ago.

Residents of Madison neighborhood West Highland with a personal connection to 9/11 agreed to share their stories in their own words.

Pete and Denise Grogan. Pete serves on the WHNA Board as vice president

“Pete was in the Pentagon on that very long day.

I called him from work in Old Towne Alexandria with the news from New York and asked if they had lots of traffic concerning the event. We chatted briefly and hung up to start our days. It was about 30 minutes later when he called me from his cell phone yelling, “It’s blowing up.”

His line went dead and I could not get back in touch with him.  We heard the explosions and could see the smoke in the sky. I had 200 children to look after. Ninety percent of whose parents worked in the Pentagon.

We had no idea of what had occurred, however, I knew it was bad from Pete’s call.  All phone lines were down and cell towers were jammed.  Our children at the time were in private school in Maryland 20 miles away.  I was able to get a call to their school before the lines went down to alert them to the situation and not to let the kids know something was wrong.  I had no idea when I would be reunited with them or where.  Parents poured into school to gather their children and the staff was able to leave after we secured the building.  I worked four miles from the Pentagon and decided to try and travel the eight miles home, not knowing how to find Pete. I received a call and it was Pete who told me he was safe and was walking through Crystal City towards his boss’s home. I made my way through the one-way streets to the location Pete gave me passing hundreds of people walking.

People were dazed and confused.  Employees of the Pentagon kept their keys and wallets in their desks, and when they rushed out of the building, they left them behind.  No one had car keys or identification of any kind. The eight miles, which on a good day would take us 30 minutes to get home, took us three hours.

We lived at Bowling Air Force Base across the Potomac from Reagan National.  When we arrived it was in total lock down with armed guards and snipers everywhere.  We almost did not get on base because Pete did not have any I.D. only his uniform.  After a vehicle search we were allowed to enter to try and find our children whom we were told were safe at the childcare facility on base.

We were all together again only to live it daily for the next year each time we entered the base. Guards armed and pointed at us each time we entered and it was very unnerving.

The river patrols and guards along the Potomac made for long night of noise and lights that lasted for over a year. Each of us has the events of that day etched in our minds, whether we watched it on T.V., listened to it on the radio or computer.  We lived it, and it was truly the longest day of our lives, and we still find it difficult to talk about and remember. We are Pentagon survivors!”

Don Midkiff, retired from US Air Force.

“When the news came on about the plane crashing into the tower I was volunteering with CASA and building a wheelchair ramp for a disabled person’s home.  She told us of the “accident” and then later she told us about the second plane hitting the other tower. We all knew then that we had been attacked on our own soil. We were numb. It was a sobering experience.”

Steve and Paula Pabst

“Our Daughter Marylynne Chindblom, is a Firefighter 4, with Montgomery County Maryland Fire Agency, her husband Mike, is a police officer also with Montgomery County. Our daughter Laura is in Army basic training in Fort Jackson, SC.  I am a veteran of service with the Army in the 1970s.  My cousin Mary and his Wife Linda lost their son, Lt. Josh Hyland, in Afghanistan about 3 years ago. He had been with the 82nd Airborne for four years and left the service. The day after 9/11, he enlisted in Army ROTC at the University of Montana and was commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant. He bought is dad, Marty, an Army coat and had all the medals Marty earned in Vietnam so, his Dad could get his first salute.  Both are my heroes.

CW5 (Ret.) Brad and Beth Lupien

“In 1998, after 29 years in uniform, I retired from the Army. We relocated from Ft. Rucker to Casper, Wy. I was the Senior Army Instructor to the second oldest JROTC unit in the United States, and my wife, Beth, worked in the library.  This was home now, we were there for 5 and a half years, much longer than any place we had ever lived during our time in the military and we both loved our jobs.  On the morning of Sept. 11, 2002, as always, I arrived at my office early to get caught up on paperwork.  I always had the morning news on the T.V. in the background. As I watched in disbelief, I knew things would once again change for all of us.  I discussed it with Beth and as always, she backed my decision to see if there was a need for an “old” helicopter pilot back on active duty. Within three months, we were offered a position at the Combat Readiness Center (CRC) back at Ft. Rucker as an Aircraft Accident Investigator. The only thing holding me back was I had to pass a flight physical.

I worked closely with my doctor and got my blood pressure back under control and passed the physical. For the next three years, I was deployed 11 times to all areas of Iraq and Afghanistan. It was a sad job as there was almost always the loss of life involved. Each time I was deployed, I had the great opportunity to work with our young soldiers and Marines. These young men and women would always looked after me, I guess because I was in my mid 50s. I probably reminded them of their dads… or grandfathers.

I got to know so many of them and understand what great young people we have in the military today. Once on a trip to downtown Mosul in a HUMVEE, I was accompanied by my driver, who was 19 years old and the machine gunner, an 18 year old.  I never felt safer.  Each time that I returned from OIF or OEF, I would go through customs in Atlanta, and the agents would look at my orders and always say, “Welcome home”.  This might not mean much to most, but for me it was the “welcome” that I had missed after my return from Vietnam some 32 years earlier.”