My alarm clock went off. I woke up in a bleary state, still wanting a few more minutes of peaceful slumber before the day started. But I knew this was not to be. Insted, I reached above me where my radio was and turned it on to hear some music to help me wake up. There was the morning DJ’s talking in a odd tone of voice about a plane crashing into the world trade center. They said they thought it was a small plane but they weren’t sure, and that it was some sort of attack. Somebody was attaking the United States. One of the hosts said he talked to “some air force guy”, and I knew it was a prank. “Nice joke, fellas.” I said dryly turning off my radio and moving myself out of bed. I grabbed my towel and the clothes I would wear that day and took a shower. My mom had just come home from work, and she knocked on the bathroom door and said, “Scott, the World Trade center’s been attacked.”
“I know, I heard it on the radio.” I remember thinking as I stood there under the shower head, “God, wouldn’t that be crazy if we were under attack?” I shook my head and said out loud, “Nah, that’s impossible.” I came out of the shower not really thinking about it, but when I looked over I saw my mom on the floor of her room crying as the buildings were aflaim. I stood there shocked… astonished… confused as I saw the North tower fall. Consumed in a conflagration that had destroyed the lives of hundreds of people. I don’t remember if I said anything or what. I think I just turned and continued getting ready for school. I walked to school that day. It was somber and I don’t know what was going on in my mind, but I’m sure it was something I’d prefer not to remember. At school nobody did anything. All the televisons were on in all the class rooms and nobody spoke at all. Absolute silence. We all understood and could appriciate the gravity of the day. Later on we heard another plane hit the pentagon, then another crashed into a field in Pensylvania. I’m pretty sure I wondered if it would go on like this. All day the students of my high school went through the motions of the day. But with little or no enthusiasm. We just wanted to know who and why. Everybody was angery. We wanted to avenge the innocent people who were just murdered in such a cruel way. We wanted blood.
There were no planes flying over head for days after that. I remember looking up and not hearing the sound of a jet or private air plane and thinking how badly I wanted to see something flying again. I looked up to an empty sky, and that I wont forget.
Two years later, we were sitting in class. It was roughly noon California time and we were gathered around a television once more. I was excited and anxiouse to see what was about to happen. The screen showed the skyline of a city at night. Lights were on and a few cars were on the road. All of the sudden there was an explosion fallowed by several others. Huge explosions that wiped out the screen momentarily. One after the other after the other. Then a pause. A lull in the storm. We were cheering, and morbidly glad to see what was happening. Every explosion caused our class to erupt in yells of joy. I watched as Baghdad was turned into the largest target in the world. I didn’t care if we were right or wrong about invading the damn place, I just wanted so badly to be there and do my part. Bomb after bomb detonated. My teacher asked me, “Why aren’t they turning off the lights?”
I replied, “I don’t think it would matter.” We hit them mercilesly. I watched for an hour as we pummeld Iraq from the air. After class was over, a friend of mine and I walked outside. I looke over at him and said, “That was awesome.”