Unfortunately, the donations I have received do not yet cover the cost of producing my latest article. And I have not even made the long-distance phone calls yet. I can't afford to.
This may be God's plan. Hart Seely wrote to me today, and his response provides a very good lead-in to my article.
I am giving some required background reading for my forthcoming article first.
THE key historical article is by Hart Seely, a New York journalist. Hart wrote back to me today. Mr. Seely's article is an excellent introduction to the material that I will be presenting. Hart's article is required reading for anyone who truly wants to understand what really happened on 9-11.
Hart Seely's article is an important historical document about 9-11.
He has done what journalists are supposed to do. If more had done as he did we would have exposed this pack of lies six years ago. Seely has provided a record, a document, of the confusion that affected the NEADS radar personnel who were the people who were watching the skies of New York on 9-11.
If you want to understand why the U.S. Air Force, which has bombed poor Middle Eastern nations on a daily basis since 1991, was utterly unable to defend "the Homeland" on 9-11, Seely's article is the place to begin.
Reading this article will inform readers about the background of the crucial 9-11 discovery I will be revealing, hopefully, in a day or two:
THEY SCRAMBLED JETS, BUT IT WAS A RACE THEY COULD NOT WIN
Post-Standard, The (Syracuse, NY) - January 20, 2002
Author: Hart Seely staff writer
Also published in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania:
UNTOLD STORIES // 'We were suddenly no kidding under attack'
Patriot-News, The (Harrisburg, PA) - February 3, 2002
Author: Hart Seely, Of The Syracuse (N.Y.) Post-Standard
Hart Seely begins…
On Sept. 11, as Americans watched horror rain upon New York and Washington, D.C., command teams at a little-known military outpost in Rome scrambled feverishly to restore safe skies and rouse a slumbering homeland defense.
At the Northeast Air Defense Sector, radar operators, who constantly scan the continental boundaries for external threats, suddenly faced a new threat from within and a race they could not win. Four months after the terrorist attacks, there are still untold stories. This is one.
6 a.m.: War games
It would be a long day, she figured.
Deskins rose at dawn to make the 45-minute drive from Manlius, ready to start her 12-hour shift in the Operations Center.
It was Day II of " Vigilant Guardian ," an exercise that would pose an imaginary crisis to North American Air Defense outposts nationwide.
The simulation would run all week, and Deskins, the NORAD unit's airborne control and warning officer, might find herself on the spot.
Day I of the simulation had moved slowly. She hoped the exercise gathered steam. It made a long day go faster.
After work, she'd have to hit Wal-Mart, because the refrigerator at home was looking bare. Her kids, Derek and Brittany, would need lunches tomorrow.
8:40 a.m.: Real world
In the Ops Room, short for Operations, three rows of radar scopes face a high wall of wide-screen monitors. Technicians peer into the instruments, as supervisors pace behind. Here, it's always quiet, always dark, except for the green radar glow.
At 8:40 a.m., Deskins noticed senior technician Jeremy Powell waving his hand. Boston Center was on the line, he said. It had a hijacked airplane.
"It must be part of the exercise," Deskins thought.
At first, everybody did. Then Deskins saw the glowing direct phone line to the Federal Aviation Administration.
On the phone she heard the voice of a military liaison for the FAA's Boston Center.
"I have a hijacked aircraft," he told her.
American Airlines Flight 11, headed to Los Angeles, had veered off course, apparently toward New York. The liaison said to get "some F-16s or something" airborne.
Forty-one minutes earlier, Flight 11 had left Logan Airport with 81 passengers. For the last 27 minutes, it had not responded to ground control.
Deskins requested Flight 11's latest position, which an operator put up on the screen.
Flight 11 wasn't there.
Someone had turned off its transponder, the device that identifies the plane to ground control.
Boston Center could still track it on primary radar, but the operators in Rome would be hard-pressed to find it amid the jumble of blips on their screens.
We'll direct the intercept, the liaison told Deskins. Just get something up there.
Deskins ran up a short flight of stairs to the Battle Cab and reported the hijacked plane - real world, not a simulation.
"He says it's going to New York," she said. A thought flashed: Why is he going to New York?
8:43 a.m.: Search
Master Sgt. Maureen Dooley started doing the math.
If Flight 11 cruised at a normal speed, maybe 350 knots, in a certain direction, it would be right - she directed a technician to zero in on a sector northeast of New York - there!
They saw blips, dozens of them - the swarm of a Tuesday morning aerial rush hour. Somewhere in there was Flight 11.
"You have the urgency to do what you're trained to do," Dooley said. "But you also have that personal urgency, which is saying, "Oh, my God!"'
By now, Powell was on the scramble line to Otis Air Base in Falmouth, Mass., one of two Air National Guard units controlled by the Northeast Air Defense Sector (NEADS), telling it to upgrade its "readiness posture." Direct phones and e-mails flashed to NORAD in Colorado and CONR, its Continental U.S. Region headquarters in Florida.
At 8:43 a.m., Dooley's technicians, their headsets linked to Boston Center, heard of a second plane, United Flight 175, that also was not responding. It, too, was moving to New York.
FAA was still trying to contact Flight 11. If this followed past scenarios, the hijackers would start making demands, the first of which might be to land at JFK International Airport.
Dooley's technicians centered in on a radar blip that might be Flight 11. They watched it close in on New York City.
8:46 a.m.: Scramble
The Battle Cab, a long, glassed-in office, overlooks the Ops Room like a low-slung balcony in a darkened theater. In a corner booth, an officer waits for the unthinkable: the coded message indicating America is at war.
Six minutes after Boston Center's call, NEADS scrambled two armed F-15s at Otis Air Base on Cape Cod.
"We had no idea where the aircraft was," recalled Maj. James Fox, who gave the order. "We just knew it was over land, so we scrambled them towards land."
Weapons directors guided the jets, as radar technicians talked to the FAA - a headset to one ear, a phone to the other.
Deskins ran to a nearby office and phoned 1st Air Force Chief Public Affairs Officer Major Don Arias in Florida. She said NEADS had a hijacked plane - no, not the simulation - likely heading for JFK.
"The entire floor sensed something wrong," chief of operations control Lt. Col. Ian Sanderson said. "The way this unfolded, everybody had a gut sense this wasn't right."
8:46 a.m.: Tower One
As the first plane hit the World Trade Center, the F-15s were rumbling off the runways at Otis, eight minutes from New York.
The calls had come too late.
"I remember somebody running into the Ops Room," Deskins said. "They said they'd just seen on CNN that an aircraft hit the World Trade Center."
A quiet tremor rolled through the room, replaced by the buzz of urgent questions into phones. What kind of aircraft hit the building? A small plane? A large plane? Could it be Flight 11?
Boston Center was still tracking a blip believed to be Flight 11.
If it was still in the air, where was Flight 11 going?
Dooley, who repaired aircraft for 15 years before joining NEADS, grasped for a way that the fighter pilots could identify Flight 11.
"I was fighting to get the (plane's) tail number," she said. "We were trying to grab at anything we could."
Several minutes passed before Boston Center said Flight 11 had hit the Trade Center.
"I had a feeling of helplessness," Dooley said. "I think everybody did. We were doing everything in our power."
Again, Deskins phoned Maj. Arias in Florida. "We think the aircraft that just hit the World Trade Center was American Airlines Flight 11," she reported.
To this day, Arias says he cannot recall his reply, such was his state of mind.
Deskins can't forget it.
"Oh, God," he told her. "My brother works in the World Trade Center."
9:03 a.m.: Tower Two
Again, the news came: A second plane had hit the Trade Center. The F-15s were still 71 miles away.
"We were ... floored," Sanderson said. "We had to sort of wrest back control."
By now, every qualified staffer had been called to the Ops Room and Battle Cab. Others, hearing the news at home, headed to work.
"We were suddenly no-kidding under attack," Deskins said. "The FAA didn't know how many aircraft there were. Any airliner they weren't talking to could potentially be one."
Sanderson said the second crash brought a brief pause, and then a renewal: "This was our situation to seize back. There was almost a turning point."
The staff looked to Col. Robert Marr, who rallied the operation: Get to the phones. Call every Air National Guard unit in the land. Prepare to put jets in the air. The nation was under attack.
They would rouse the homeland defense, unit by unit, if necessary.
9:24 a.m.: Flight 77
Boston Center reported that American Airlines Flight 77, destined for Los Angeles, had switched course and stopped responding.
Instantly, Rome scrambled fighter jets from the nearest air base, Langley, in Virginia. Again, Fox dispatched the jets without targets. That would come later.
Now, NEADS was phoning Air Guard commanders across the Northeast, posing questions that hours earlier would have seemed ludicrous. Did the unit have available pilots? Mechanics? Crew chiefs? What could it get airborne in two hours? In 24 hours? In 48?
Fox directed a Combat Air Patrol (CAP) over New York City: Jets were in place to take out another hijacked plane, if necessary.
In the Battle Cab, where officers stood shoulder to shoulder, Col. Marr began thinking aloud.
"What am I missing?" Marr could be heard asking himself. "What I am NOT thinking of?"
Increasingly, attention turned to Flight 77. The FAA's Washington Center could not find it on radar, the transponder was turned off.
In the Ops Room, radar technicians focused on a blip and watched it closing on Washington.
At 9:37 a.m., the blip disappeared on their screens.
Where is it, they asked Boston Center. Do you still have it?
Boston's last position: six miles east of the Pentagon.
9:38 a.m.: Washington
When Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon, the jets from Langley were about 100 miles away.
"Now, I just felt it was personal," Deskins recalled. Said Fox: "At that point, I'm just reacting."
At least four other planes were behaving strangely, according to the FAA. Each might be another hijacking. Most notably, United Airlines Flight 93 had turned off its transponder in Ohio.
"We're thinking, where's he going? To Chicago?" Deskins said. "WHERE IS HE GOING?"
The Toledo and Syracuse Air National Guards were up and running. Fighters fixed a CAP over Washington. If a plane ignored warnings, they would fire upon it, on orders from the president.
Fox's weapons teams passed the word: Be prepared to receive that order and carry it out.
At 10:03 a.m., Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. The passengers, told of the events via cellphones, had turned on the hijackers.
In the Ops Room, scopes now searched for United Flight 83, which had turned toward Cleveland. Was it a hijacking? NEADS and Cleveland Center watched until it landed. The pilot simply wanted to get down.
"I was actually expecting to hear about more from other parts of the country," Sanderson said. "We started wondering if there'd be hijacks - Los Angeles, Dallas - that's what I was expecting."
12:30 p.m.: Realization
By order of the FAA, commercial air traffic had stopped. Radar scopes showed nearly empty skies.
With the threat diminished, an Ops Room screen was tuned to CNN. Almost immediately, a replay showed the World Trade Center crash. A young radar technician turned around and said she wanted to cry.
"We don't have time," Dooley responded.
She later apologized. But with fighter patrols over Eastern cities, much work remained to be done.
Dooley also fretted over her children, Shannon and Paige. Her husband, Dan, was headed to New York as part of the Air Guard's Civic Support Team. She'd be working late. Where would they go after school?
"I couldn't leave what I was doing," Dooley said. "But I'm thinking, "I've got to get my kids with somebody safe."'
8 p.m.: Real life
"I just didn't want to let go," said Deskins, who worked 14 hours. "There was a fear that you weren't going to pass on everything, and that when you left, you wouldn't be helping anymore."
For the first time in her memory, Deskins felt awkward wearing her uniform in Wal-Mart. Before, nobody noticed her. Now, strangers approached, asking for news.
Dooley just wanted to hold her kids. A friend had picked them up.
Sanderson cannot recall what time he got home. He talked with his wife until 3 a.m., unable to sleep.
Fox and some co-workers went to his house and drank a six-pack. As they watched the TV coverage, the magnitude of the day's events began to overwhelm them.
In Florida, Maj. Don Arias waited for word from his younger brother, Adam.
After Deskins' call that morning, Arias had phoned his brother in Tower II to say that the crash next door was a hijacking, and he should get out. Adam P. Arias roused people across the 84th floor, exhorting them to leave. Several still credit him with saving their lives.
His body was one of the first found in the wreckage.
"The mole people are always watching," Chaplain Maj. Timothy C. Bejian wrote in a message to the Northeast Air Defense Sector after Sept. 11. "They gather together in groups, in windowless places, usually arriving while it's dark and staying long hours, only to leave while it's dark. Many times they can't tuck their own children into bed and read them fairy tales because they are watching. This bothers the mole people, but they know that it needs to be done.
"The mole people are real," Bejian wrote. "They aren't part of a fairy tale, because fairy tales always have happy endings. Real people who live real lives don't always have happy endings, but that doesn't mean that they can't be happy. ...
"Happiness comes from deep within, where your heart of hearts lives."
Today, armed guards at NEADS scan cars at the gate for bombs. Jets patrol the skies over major cities. Twelve-hour shifts have become the norm.
It's still dark when some come to work, dark when they leave. In the Ops Room, where the only windows are radar screens, the watchers keep watch.
"That's why we're here," Sanderson said. "This is our mission. ... I think (Sept. 11) gave people here a new sense of purpose. ... Suddenly, it was very real. This unit will never be the same."
What they do
The Northeast Air Defense Air Sector covers more than one-half million square miles of airspace including that over New York City; Washington, D.C.; Chicago and other major metropolitan areas.
Radar specialists control jet fighters every day. National Guard units in Burlington, Vt.; Atlantic City, N.J.; Cape Cod, Mass.; and Duluth, Minn., rely on the center for their day-to-day training missions.
Controllers also support units in New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut and Michigan, as well as active-duty fighter missions at Langley Air Force Base, Va.
Caption: PHOTO Peter Chen/Staff photographer LT. COLS.Ian Sanderson (left) and Dawne Deskins work in the Battle Cab at the Northeast Air Defense Sector in Rome. It was here the officers helped raise and direct fighter jets on Sept. 11. Color. The Associated Press NEW YORK CITY firefighters Saturday carry a flag-draped body from the debris at the World Trade Center as the recovery efforts continue. City officials say 267 people remain missing. The medical examiner's office has issued 670 death certificates. An additional 1,952 death certificates have been issued without a body, at the request of victims' families. GRAPHIC, MAP: NORAD'S response times. The Post-Standard. Note: For text see microfilm.
Record Number: 0201200081
Copyright, 2002, The Herald Company