I was home on leave from the Army and staying with my father in Brooklyn. I had to wake up early that morning, so I could meet my uncle at his job on Broadway and Franklin. I was walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, looking to the left at Lower Manhattan, admiring the beautiful view, when I sa a plane appraoching the one of the towers. I didn’t think much of it first, but thenit smacked right into the building, creating a huge fireball. I, along with everyone else looked in absolute disbelief. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“A fuckin’ plane just hit the tower!” some guy was screaming over and over at the top of his lungs. I couldn’t believe a piliot could be dumb enough to run into a building. Then, minutes later, another plane, coming from a different direction, hit the other tower. I tell ya, by now, I was hysterical. It still didn’t cross my mind that this was a terrorist attack. I stood there on the bridge and watched in horror people jumping from the buildings! I called my uncle, who had no idea what happened. “Turn on the damn television!” I told him. I decided to go back into brooklyn after rumors started spreading that America was under attack. I went back home, turned on the tube, and watched the news non-stop for at least twelve hours. I will never forget that day for the rest of my life.