September 11, 2001, was an
early report for my crew in ATL. We had a four-leg day
flying the EMB-120 with our first round trip to Wilmington,
N.C., and back. It was a clear day as the sun rose and the
flight to ILM was uneventful. It was on the flight back to
ATL when things got “interesting.” As we passed over
Florence, S.C., we heard some chatter on Comm 2 (Atlanta
radio) about some sort of small plane that had hit a
building in New York. There were no details given, and
nothing else was said.
Curious, I dialed in an AM
station on the ADF and what we heard next was almost
unbelievable. While it was confusing and speculative at that
point, the news media was reporting that some type of
aircraft, possibly one as big as an airliner, had hit the
World Trade Center. My F/O and I were in disbelief and
likened what we were hearing to War of the Worlds, just
waiting for the gig to be up. But it wasn’t—and as we passed
Augusta, Ga., on the Sinca Arrival, it became very apparent
to us that something real big was happening. We decided to
go max forward speed to get back to ATL and see what was
happening. Shortly after is when we got the call from
dispatch.
Just north of Macon, Ga.,
over the Sinca intersection, we were told to divert to
Augusta in the interest of national security as quickly as
possible. As a new father with a 10-month-old baby girl at
home, I requested that we go straight in to Macon since it
was closer to our position (and only 40 miles from my
house—something told me we weren’t going anywhere for a
while), but was told that Macon was already planned full and
we were to go to Augusta. We landed sometime after 9:30 that
morning and deplaned the passengers so we could get them in
the terminal and inform them of what was happening. Minutes
later, we sadly watched together as the South Tower fell.
After discussions with
Dispatch and Scheduling, it was apparent we weren’t going
anywhere else that day. As we waited for the hotel van to
pick us up, we again stood speechless as we watched the
north tower fall. My crew spent the next 30 hours in Augusta
with nothing but our flight bags, watching television and
learning along with the rest of the country what was going
on. While we shared the hotel with many crews from various
airlines, my crew was the only one on a day line and thus
had no overnight bags.
We were finally authorized
to rent a car and return to ATL the evening of September 12.
Interstate 20 was lined with a police presence I’d never
seen before, as was the Atlanta airport when we arrived.
What we experienced next we will never forget. We returned
the rental car and the airport was eerily quiet. It took us
a couple of minutes to realize how truly quiet ATL was. No
engines, no APUs, no tugs, nothing. We’d never heard the
airport dead silent and hope we never do again. We were
relieved to be back home and fortunate to be on our way to
our families.
I, along with the rest of
the world, watched the story unfold during the days after
9/11. Our comrades are gone, but will never be forgotten. I
proudly pinned on my red, white, and blue remembrance ribbon
10 years ago and still wear it in their memory today.
Captain Wesley Monge, Atlantic Southeast |