First Responders
The Dignified Transfer of Marines at Ramstein Air Force base in Germany, January 2002.
Twenty years ago, on the morning of September 11, 2001, America witnessed an unimaginable tragedy that claimed the lives of two thousand nine hundred and ninety-six (2,996) people. That doesn’t include the countless others who perished due to the toxic chemicals that imploding twin towers left lingering in the air, days and weeks after the initial attacks.
We watched this tragedy play out on live television, where first responders entered the World Trade Center towers, unaware at the time, that burning jet fuel was compromising the structural integrity of the tower. We watched Americans, hanging and jumping out of their office windows, as they could no longer withstand the blistering temperatures created by the raging and inescapable inferno. We watched both towers disintegrate right before us, knowing those who couldn’t escape the towers in time, were instantly pulverized by the crushing weight of the collapsing towers.
We watched Americans come together in solidarity, as first responders continued looking for survivors trapped underneath the rubble and debris of the World Trade Center towers. We watched tragedy unfold but we also witnessed the perseverance and courage of everyday Americans.
In the days and weeks that followed the attacks, I continued to think about those first responders and what I could do to help in the aftermath of 9/11. Almost a year earlier, I was an active-duty Marine stationed right outside Arlington National Cemetery and I knew exactly where that plane flew into the Pentagon. At the time, I didn’t know how my reentry would manifest itself, but I knew I had to get back in the fight.
Staying home and not doing anything was never an option. To be honest, I didn’t want to be a chicken-shit and I would never forgive myself if I did nothing. Almost thirteen months after my initial separation from active-duty service, I dropped everything and volunteered to reenlist in the Marines.
I was not an infantry Marine and did not serve in direct combat. However, I believe we all have a story and you need not be an infantryman to help America in her most urgent time of need. I was part of a group of nearly thirty Marines who had also dropped everything and voluntarily reenlisted into active-duty service. I did not realize it at the time but the next twelve months would profoundly shape me as a person, as a Marine, as a brother, a son, a friend, and as a professional.
Over the next few weeks, we were issued equipment and took on the task of reacclimating ourselves to the Marine Corps standard of physical fitness and discipline. It felt really good to put the uniform back on, after seemingly wandering around as a civilian for the last year. Separation from the military can be a daunting experience and often leads to moderate-to-severe bouts of depression.
We were given orders to report to Germany and our final destination was an old German tank barracks, near Stuttgart. During the second World War, this region was of great strategic value for the Germans, due to the incredible industrial capacities of both Daimler and Porsche automotive factories. For a kid from the Little Village neighborhood of Chicago, it was like another world for me. But I felt I had made the right decision and was exactly where I needed to be.
It was October now and our orders were clear. A fraction of the thirty Marines who had just arrived, were to provide immediate patrolling and sentry relief for non-infantry Marines who had assumed that role following 9/11 attacks. They had been running on fumes, and the exhaustion was visibly displayed on their collective faces. In addition to their “day” jobs as Marines, they had been providing base security around-the-clock and they did what needed to be done to protect each other. My role was slightly different and centered around providing support and secure defense messaging capabilities for Headquarters Marine Forces Europe. We were all glad to help and provide relief, in any way the Corps needed us.
In the year that followed September 11, 2001, I also witnessed tragedy, courage, leadership, selflessness, sacrifice, and humanity. Most of the men and women who volunteered to reenlist, left their family and children behind and I can distinctly recall having or hearing emotional conversations about this. Part of the reason they chose to serve again, was to provide for and set an example for their children, however selfish or foolish their decision seemed at the time. Whether it was answering the call of duty to country or for different reasons, here they were in Germany and the choice had been made.
Tragically, on January 10, 2002, in the Kandahar province of Afghanistan, a U.S. Marine Corps KC-130 (tanker plane) carrying seven Marines crashed into a mountainside as it prepared to land at a forward operating base in Pakistan. Because of their close proximity to Germany, their remains were delivered through Ramstein Air Force base.
Our team had the responsibility and honor of performing a “dignified transfer” for the seven Marines who perished near Kandahar. At 2am local time, we donned our Dress Blue uniforms and proceeded to transfer the flag-draped caskets to another military aircraft. If you have ever watched the film “Taking Chance”, you are probably aware that each of these Marines still had a long journey ahead of them. It’s a profoundly heartbreaking experience and something I will carry with me forever.
As I recall events that occurred twenty years ago, it is important to note that my story does not condone America’s actions to invade Afghanistan at the time. It is simply a recounting of my personal experiences and the story of countless Americans who raised their hand without hesitation, to help in the defense of our nation. It is a story of first responders.
Our nation will come calling again in the future, and I have no doubt that the next generation of first responders will once again rise to meet that challenge.
Semper Fidelis
Published by
Carlos Cardenas
