The U. S. Coast Guard on September 11, 2001

On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, Ed , the director of the local Coast Guard Auxiliary, was in his office at Battery Park on the southern tip of Manhattan, five blocks from the World Trade Center. He had just opened his windows to enjoy the cool autumn breeze and was sitting at his computer looking out toward the Statue of Liberty and a calm Hudson Bay. At exactly 8:45 A.M., he heard a loud bang and a scream. The commander’s first thought was the Staten Island ferry had been in an accident at its nearby dock. But someone across the hall screamed that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. Ed rushed out of his office to the opposite window, looked up, and saw a ball of flames on the north tower. “My God!” he thought, “a small plane or sightseeing helicopter must have gotten too close. Probably a terrible accident.”

Meanwhile, the SAR alarm sounded across the harbor at Coast Guard Station New York and, within five minutes, a 41-foot small boat with three young Coasties was headed toward Battery Park. In charge of the boat was a twenty-one-year-old petty officer third-class named Carlos who had completed his qualifications to be a coxswain only two weeks earlier. He had never before been in charge of a small boat, and this was his first search and rescue case. The only thing he had been told was that a plane had apparently hit one of the twin towers and that he was to proceed across the harbor to see if the Coast Guard might render any assistance.

At 9:03 A.M., and now within only a few hundred yards of Battery Park, one of the crew yelled, “Hey, Carlos, do you hear that?” They looked up and saw a United Airlines passenger jet flying a few hundred feet above their heads. It was so low that all three men ducked reflexively. Then they watched in disbelief as the plane flew directly into the south tower of the World Trade Center and exploded into a massive fireball. It was unbelievable, unthinkable. Communications on the small boat instantly went dead. Carlos and his crew could not be reached, nor could they call out. Both towers were now on fire, and for the moment, the three young people in charge of the only Coast Guard vessel in New York Harbor.

Up at Air Station Cape Cod in Massachusetts, the commanding officer was carefully monitoring the situation in New York City. Because his unit housed two heavy-duty search and rescue Sikorsky helicopters, the knew there could be a call any minute to dispatch them to the scene. Upon hearing that the first tower had been hit, the captain had ordered the helicopters to stand by for action. But when he saw the airliner crash into the second tower live on television, he did not wait for a call. The CO immediately gave the order for his pilots to saddle up and get down there.

By 9:10 A.M., the two Sikorsky helicopters had taken off from Cape Cod, each with a four-person crew consisting of a pilot, copilot, navigator, and rescue swimmer. Along the way, the teams made plans for basket lifts off the towers. They were going to put the rescue swimmers in the basket, lower them to the roofs, and pick up as many people as they could. If people weren’t on the roofs, they would attempt rescues from the windows of the upper floors. One thing they knew for certain, the Coast Guard was the only service that had this kind of rescue capability, and they were the guys who had to make it happen. Operational speed for the Sikorskys is normally 130 knots, but the pilots pushed it up to 157 knots, figuring at that speed they could make it to lower Manhattan in less than an hour.

Much of the senior Coast Guard leadership was not at Activities New York (Marine Safety Office) on Staten Island that morning. They were traveling by train to headquarters in Washington, D.C., for an important meeting. The captain of the port (COTP) was out, as were four other senior officers. The Coast Guard personnel present were monitoring events in Lower Manhattan with the Vessel Traffic Service’s closed-circuit television system. But when the plane hit the second tower, their camera feeds were knocked out. The deputy commander, a captain, acted without hesitation and immediately ordered New York Harbor closed. Utilizing VHF channel 16, the Operations Center radioed out to all vessel pilots: “The captain of the port has closed the port of New York. No vessels may enter or move without his permission.” The Coast Guard also started sending out an Urgent Mariner Information Broadcast (UMIB) relating more detailed information and the current status of events. A list was compiled of all known vessels currently in the harbor, and preparations began for a command center briefing. The procedures used to close the harbor were identical to those the Coast Guard uses when, for example, a hurricane is approaching or a major oil spill has occurred. By now it was obvious that the New York City was under a terrorist attack. Port security was of paramount concern.

Back in the office at Battery Park, rumors ran rampant that bombs were exploding all over lower Manhattan. Being only five blocks from the twin towers, many people began to panic. Some became hysterical. And there was an awful lot of screaming. Ed realized that, as a lieutenant commander, he was the ranking officer in the building, so he took charge. After the first plane hit, he had held an all hands meeting and encouraged everyone to remain calm and to call their families and tell them they were okay. When the second plane hit, however, he immediately summoned all the chiefs and civilian supervisors. “Communications are down,” he said. “The phone systems run through the World Trade Center. We have to secure the building. Shut all the windows, lock the doors, and clear the roof. Have people put the blinds down and stay away from the windows. If there are more explosions, we don’t want people injured by flying glass.”

Out on the water, Carlos and the two members of his crew conferred. This had to b e a terrorist attack, they concluded. Even though they did not have orders and could not be contacted, they were certain the COTP would shut down the harbor. They also knew that people were going to be evacuating the twin towers. Civilians were already starting to show up at the piers. Collectively, the team decided the best thing to do was to begin organizing the tugs, ferries, and other vessels that were starting to congregate haphazardly around Battery Park.
“Okay,” said Carlos. “Let’s get moving.”

At 9:40 A.M., the Federal Aviation Administration halted all flight operations at all airports in the United States. It was the first time in U.S. history that had been done. All international flights were diverted to Canada. Existing flights were ordered out of the air. And the FAA began a tabulated list to account for every single airplane that had taken off from a major airport.

The Commandant of the Coast Guard had scrambled his senior staff together when word of the first tower strike reached him. The team was monitoring events in his office when the second tower was hit.
“One plane hitting the World Trade Center may be an accident,” said one of the admirals. “But two times in the same place – this was planned.”
“Can’t be accidental,” agreed another. “Got to be a terrorist attack.”
“First things first,” said the Commandant. “Let’s get hold of the Secretary and get his approval to call up the Reserves. Everybody agree.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”

Everyone knew that 70-80 percent of the nation’s trade traveled through 361 major seaports, and action needed to be taken immediately to make certain they were secured from terrorist attacks. So the Commandant picked up the phone and called his boss, the Secretary of Transportation. (On September 11, 2001, the U.S. Coast Guard was part of the Department of Transportation.) The Secretary immediately granted the request because he knew that the main mission of the Coast Guard Reserve concerned port security. “I’ll get the written approval to you right away,” said the Secretary. “In the meantime, do what you have to do. If you need to reach me, I’ll be in the Situation Room at the White House.”

As soon as the Commandant hung up, he was told that his good friend, the Chief of Naval Operations, was holding. “Jim, I recognize the Coast Guard’s lead role in the maritime security of the homeland,” Admiral Vern Clark told the Commandant. “As you have always helped the Navy meet our national responsibilities overseas, the Navy is now standing by to help you. Just tell us what you need.”
“Thank you, Vern,” replied the Commandant. “I’ll be getting back to you shortly.”
Both phone calls were very brief. So within only a few minutes of deciding that increased port security would have to be an immediate course of action, the Coast Guard had the approval of the Secretary of Transportation and the unconditional support of the U.S. Navy.

A short time later, at 9:43 A.M., the Coast Guard building shuddered and shook from what felt like a sonic boom. “What the hell was that?” somebody shouted.
Phones immediately started ringing in the Commandant’s office. “Sir, we’re receiving reports that there was an explosion at the State Department or somewhere close to the White House,” said an aide.
Within minutes, another aide ran in. “Sir, the Pentagon’s been hit. A plane just flew into it. We can see it out of the west windows of the building across the river. There’s a big cloud over it.”

Orders were immediately issued to secure Buzzard’s Point in case there were more terrorist attacks, and Coast Guard cutters were sent out to secure the Potomac River. The Commandant and his executive team then quickly placed a conference call to the Atlantic and Pacific area commanders in Virginia and California, respectively.
“Let’s get focused on our captains of the port,” said the Commandant. “We need them to make port security their number-one priority.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the area commanders, both three-star admirals. “We’ll get right on it.”
No sooner had the phone conversation ended than another of the Commandant’s aides burst into the room. “Sir, he said, “we’ve just received word from the FAA that there is another hijacked airliner headed toward Washington.”

At 10:05 A.M., the south tower of the World Trade Center (the second tower hit) collapsed onto the streets below. A massive cloud of cement dust, paper, and other debris filled the air and began to drift with the wind toward Battery Park. For two or three minutes, Ed could see absolutely nothing. But as the dust cloud began to settle, a mass of terrified people, running along the streets and coming out of the subway, came rushing toward the waterfront. Some were climbing along the sea wall, and many jumped into the water. Within a matter of minutes, a crowd of thousands packed Battery Park and the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. Many were having trouble breathing amid all the dust, grit, and debris. Coast Guard personnel in the building threw life jackets to those in the water, passed out towels and other cloth materials for people to put over their faces, and provided drinking water.

Meanwhile, members of the New York Coast Guard Auxiliary jumped into action. A retired comptroller on Staten Island rushed to is boat and took it straight to the nearest bridge seeking to stop any boat traffic going down the river. On the coast of New Jersey, the rear commodore for auxiliary activities north called up all flotilla boats and headed toward Sandy Hook to coordinate operations. A sales manager in New Rochelle walked into his boss’s office and said: “They need me. I’m leaving.” An investment banker in Mamaroneck sprinted out of his office without saying a word to anyone and raced to the nearby marina. A dentist in Brooklyn canceled all is appointments and went straight to his boat. All over the countryside, Coast Guard auxiliarists charged tot he scene, or to a waterway or a bridge to help with security, or to offer their services at the nearest Coast Guard station.

Emergency chief’s calls were convened nearly everywhere in the Coast Guard. On the cutters, in the air stations, at the small boat stations, in marine safety offices, at integrated support commands, wherever active duty members were stationed, Coast Guard chiefs got together to evaluate the situation, organize themselves, and take appropriate action. Security at bases and buildings was stepped up. All personnel were put on alert. And plans were drawn up with junior and senior officers to secure and protect ports, power plants, bridges, government buildings, and any other facility that might be at risk.

At the Activities New York Command Center, a briefing was held with Coast Guard and other government agency personnel. The deputy commander asked one of his junior officers, a lieutenant named M.D., to take a 41-foot small boat and “go out there, observe, and try to make it a safer operation.”
“Yes, sir,” he responded.

In the room was a New York harbor pilot who knew Lt. M.D. quite well. “Sir,” he said, “the Pilot Boat New York has been prepped for a social function later tonight. It’s all fueled and ready to go. It’s just down the street from here and can be under way in ten minutes. I’d like to volunteer its services.”
Over the years, the Coast Guard had built up a close relationship with the New York Harbor Pilots Association. The Coasties attended meetings, met people, and made certain that the pilots knew the Coast Guard was their friend. To become a harbor pilot, a candidate had to undertake a fourteen-year apprenticeship and learn to draw details of New York Harbor from rote memory. This man was not only offering the services of a 200-foot pilot boat, he was also offering considerable expertise and local knowledge of New York Harbor.

“Thanks, Andy,” said the lieutenant. “We accept.”
A Customs officer was also in the room and offered to provide transportation. “Hey, M.D.,” he said, “I’ve got a car downstairs. Let me drive you guys over there.”
“Okay, buddy. Let’s go!”

On the way out the door, the lieutenant grabbed some large laminated charts of the harbor and a list of the vessels there. Then they all rushed outside, hopped in the Customs car and, with sirens blaring, sped eight blocks to the Sandy Hook Pilot’s Station. A second car followed close behind with a senior chief and four enlisted Coasties who had volunteered for the operation. When they arrived, the crew of the New York had been alerted and were ready to depart. On the six-mile trip from Staten Island to Battery Park, Lt. M.D., got his team together, rolled out his maps, and did some planning. They looked at where casualties might be taken, where ambulances could be staged, where emergency supplies might be brought in, where the best evacuation points would be, and where to take people.

And the paused for a minute to listen to an emergency broadcast on the radio: “Any vessel that can help evacuate people from lower Manhattan, please proceed to Battery Park.”

The pilots in the two Sikorsky helicopters speeding down from Cape Cod received word that the south tower had collapsed, that there was nobody on the roof of the north tower, and that people were breaking windows and, in some cases, jumping out. The teams knew that the wind was blowing out of the north and reasoned that they could use it to blow the basket toward the windows and pick people out that way. It was worth a shot, they felt. “We can do it,” they said to each other. But when they reached Long Island, the FAA and the Air Force ordered both helicopters out of the air. Upon landing, the pilots charged into the air traffic control tower and begged to be allowed to go into lower Manhattan and attempt some rescues. “It’s too dangerous,” they were told. “The government has ordered everything out of the air, period.”

At 10:10 A.M., news wires flashed word that a fourth passenger airliner had crashed in the countryside of Somerset County, Pennsylvania, southeast of Pittsburgh. It had taken off from Newark, New Jersey, with a planned destination of San Francisco, but was apparently hijacked and headed for a target in Washington, D.C. It was believed the passengers on board fought the terrorists before the plane went down.

Back in New York harbor, Carlos and his crew on the Coast Guard small boat were laboring diligently on the water to make organization out of chaos. They had taken control of the boats in the area and were directing ferries where to pick up people. But after the emergency radio request for help went out, a virtual armada of tugs, ferries, and boats of every description – hundreds of them – descended upon Battery Park and tried to get to any available site to pick up people. This was the frenzied scene that observed when they arrived on the scene. They were just coming up on the Battery and surveying the situation when a thunderous quaking rumble began. Lt. M.D. looked up and saw the remaining World Trade Center tower collapsing onto itself from the top down, the floors above slamming onto each successive floor below until the structure disappeared into an enormous cloud of debris, dust, and smoke.

Again, the unthinkable had happened. Both towers of the World Trade Center had collapsed. Tens of thousands of panic-stricken citizens quickly descended on the Staten Island Ferry Terminal and Battery Park. Many were covered head to toe in dust. There was screaming, wailing, and mass confusion. And the only way out of this part of lower Manhattan was by water. The young Coast Guard lieutenant now had a mass evacuation staring him square in the face. Tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of people needed help. But there was no formal procedure designed to handle an operation of this magnitude. He was going to have to improvise and do the best he could.
The first thing Lt. M.D. did was to run the Coast Guard flag up the mast of the New York. After realizing that both primary and secondary communications were down (because all the communications cables ran through the World Trade Center) he got on a VHF hand-held radio and started making broadcasts: “This is the United States Coast Guard aboard the pilot vessel,” he said. “All vessels assisting with the evacuation please follow our directions so that we may coordinate this rescue operation in the most efficient manner.”
The lieutenant next dropped a Coastie off at Pier 11 to coordinate the boarding of people. He also ordered the removal of all tugboats from the area because the pier was designed for ferries. Tugboats and other vessels were moved down the line to more appropriate marshaling and docking areas, and on each, the lieutenant dropped off a Coastie or a harbor pilot crew member to coordinate activity. These moves, alone, started a more orderly and efficient process that showed immediate results. When people saw that things were proceeding in an orderly manner, their panic seemed to wane a bit. Interestingly, everybody followed the direction of the Coast Guard – civilians, boat pilots and crews, even members of the pilot boat. The young lieutenant had taken charge with unhesitating strength and confidence.

One of the vessels traveling between Jersey City, New Jersey, and North Cove, New York, reported to Lt. M.D. that numerous rescue people and supplies were massing on the Jersey City side of the Hudson. Food, water, medical equipment, doctors, EMTs, blankets, firefighters, members of the New Jersey National Guard, members of the Iron Workers, and a slew of other volunteers all were waiting for transportation into lower Manhattan to begin relief and rescue operations. Lt. M.D. immediately got on the radio and directed all volunteer vessels that wanted to help to proceed to Jersey City and bring all these supplies and rescue personnel to North Cove.

When the New York finally tied up at the sea wall outside North Cove, a group of New York firefighters reported that they were unable to get fuel to their water pump trucks. So the crew organized volunteers into a half-mile-long bucket brigade using water cooler bottles filled with diesel fuel from the New York and transported the fuel to the pump trucks. Later, an engineer from one of the tugboats said he thought he could fashion a fueling nozzle so that the fire trucks could be driven directly up to the pilot boat. Lt. M.D. authorized him to go ahead. And soon, there was a block-long line of fire trucks waiting in line to get fuel from the pilot boat.

Back at Battery Park, dozens of Auxiliary members showed up in Ed’s office. “What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise. “We’re here to help, sir,” came the response. “We can answer phones, take care of paperwork, and anything else that will free you up to focus on rescue and evacuation efforts.”

It was that way all over the New York coastal area, as members of the Coast Guard Auxiliary showed up without being asked. They came to Activities New York, Station Sandy Hook, Station Long Island, Station Eaton’s Neck, Station Fire Island, every single Coast Guard station. And they did what they could to help. Mostly, they freed up the active duty Coast Guard members from paperwork and communications so the active duty personnel could concentrate on port security. But many also took responsibility for search and rescue operations as well as security in certain areas that could not be covered any other way. Volunteers all, the auxiliarists acted without being asked. They just did it.

Shortly before 11:30 A.M., American Airlines and United airlines released news reports that each had experienced the loss of two aircraft. Up to this point, no one had known for certain which planes hit what targets, from where they originated, or to where they were headed.

American Airlines flight 11, a Boeing 767 flying from Boston to Los Angeles, had eight-one passengers and eleven crew members on board. This plane hit the north tower of the World Trade Center.

United Airlines flight 175, flying from Boston to Los Angeles with fifty-six passengers and nine crew members on board, crashed into the World Trade Center’s south tower.
American Airlines flight 77, a Boeing 757 en route from Dulles International Airport to Los Angeles, had fifty-eight passengers and six crew members on board. This is the plane that hit the Pentagon.

United Airlines flight 93, en route from Newark to San Francisco with thirty-eight passengers and seven crew members on board, crashed in Pennsylvania.
Evidence indicated that all four planes had been hijacked by terrorists. Each had obviously been carefully selected having had cross-country maximum loads of jet fuel.

Coast Guard officers were focusing on security around the entire nation. With ninety-five thousand miles of coastline, thousands of inland waterways and bridges, and hundreds of coastal refineries and power plants to look after, there was prioritizing, planning, and decisive action.

Orders were communicated via telephone, fax, e-mail, video conferencing, and personal conversation. At Puget Sound in the state of Washington, a Regional Incident Command was quickly established at the district office. Teams were maintained twenty-four hours a day. Small boats and cutters were called out in force and ongoing patrols established. In the Great Lakes, with more than fifteen hundred miles of international maritime border, nearly every large ship was stopped. In Cleveland, the Coast Guard worked with the neighboring Canadians to the north to make certain all borders were secure and all ships checked out. In Chicago, every nuclear plant, every water intake system, every major coastal facility was secured. In the Caribbean Sea, in the Gulf of Mexico, and in the Hawaiian Islands and Guam, every cruise ship was boarded, passenger manifests reviewed, and security precautions instituted.

Orders were also given to recall all Coast Guard cutters from extended deployments to provide increased port security. The Bear went from the Windward Passage off Cuba straight to Charleston Harbor. The Forward also shifted from Caribbean drug interdiction to patrols off the coast of Virginia. All Coast Guard helicopters and aircraft, usually relegated to SAR and drug interdiction missions, were directed to help in port security all around the country.

Reservists had begun to mobilize and were reporting for duty everywhere. And when the Commandant subsequently ordered the immediate call-up of the Coast Guard Auxiliary, he was told: “Sir, they’re already out there. And not just in New York, but all over the country – Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, San Diego, Los Angeles, Miami, Houston, New Orleans, Charleston, you name it, they’re already there.

“God bless them,” responded the Commandant. “Send out the directive anyway. It’ll give their activity official status.”

Back at Battery Park in lower Manhattan, Ed had organized his staff and other auxiliarists. They loaded up vans with food, water, and ice, then drove to Ground Zero to aid New York firefighters and police. They went up Broadway where the street was covered with dust several inches deep. There also were millions of pieces of paper all over the place from the thousands of offices of people who worked in the twin towers every day. The scene was surreal: like a European combat zone during World War II, like a ghost town in the Old West.

On the edge of the World Trade Center, the vans pulled up next to Trinity Church and began handing out six-packs of water to firefighters. Ed looked to his left and was amazed that Trinity Church had not been damaged by the collapsed towers. He looked over at the tombstones in the graveyard at Trinity. They were covered with a foot of dust and ash. When Ed realized he was right next to Alexander Hamilton’s grave, he paused to look at it and then nodded toward the resting place of the founder of the Coast Guard. He told himself they were doing the right thing. They were doing all they could.

On any given workday, one hundred eighty-six thousand people come and go to work in New York by ferry. By nightfall on September 11, 2001, between seven hundred fifty thousand and one million people had left lower Manhattan. Many had walked out over bridges – the Brooklyn Bridge, the Manhattan Bridge, the Williamsburg Bridge. Many hundreds of thousands had been evacuate by water.

At around midnight, eighty-year-old Lou was on guard near the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. A retired financial analysit, Lou had pulled his crew together (consisting of his wife, Trudy, and their friend, Delores) and reported to Station Sandy Hook shortly after the attacks. He had been asked by his flotilla commander to patrol the water near the bridge and be on the lookout for any suspicious vessels. No one knew whether or not there was going to be any more terrorist activity, or where it might come from or where it might be headed. Consequently, everybody was taking the situation extremely seriously.

At one point Lou wondered what he was going to do if an unauthorized vessel tried to get past him. His 32-foot cabin cruiser was loaded with all the latest technology – GPS, radar, you name it – but he did not have any guns. He decided he would first call in for help. Then he would ram the vessel with his own boat and try to disable it. He was not going to let anything get past him, no matter what.

On Wednesday morning, September 12, 2002, at Fort Eustis, Virginia, some one hundred men and women dressed in camouflage uniforms were packing their bags and seven tractor-trailer trucks with all the necessary gear to operate a small city for forty-five days. They were members of the Coast Guard Reserve assigned to a Port Security Unit (PSU). Mostly civilians, they had been called up to help relief efforts in New York City. They had just said goodbye to their families and were about to embark on their journey. One man’s wife was upset, but he reminded her that he had put the uniform on long ago and they both knew what that meant, that they would have to sacrifice some things for the good of everyone. Two other men had gotten the call at six that morning and had rushed to Fort Eustis from their homes in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., where they served as apprentice firefighters. Both in their early twenties, they had spent the entire previous day fighting the fire at the Pentagon. One man had been on the roof and would never forget seeing American Airlines flight magazines scattered all over the place. Both had gone home exhausted, having been relieved after being on the scene for more than twelve hours.
The Port Security Unite arrived in lower Manhattan on Wednesday night and immediately set up the tent city they would live in for the entire time they were deployed. Their mission was “water-borne anti-terrorist force protection of major facilities.” These included refineries, container facilities, and the USNS Comfort, a naval hospital ship used to house rescue workers. They had at their disposal six 25-foot tactical patrol boats with mounted M-60 machine guns. Once their camp was established, they were on duty twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

This PSU was not the only Coast Guard Reserve unit called up. Hundreds of reservists from all over New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut had been called to duty the day before. And everyone, attorneys, teachers, plumbers, accountants, corporate executives, policemen, and firefighters, all showed up without delay and performed with honor and dedication.

At Ground Zero early Wednesday morning, a couple of dozen people in Coast Guard uniforms were observed moving around with some sort of hand-held monitors. “What in the world is the Coast Guard doing here?” one volunteer was heard to ask. It was the Atlantic Strike Force Team, the Coast Guard’s quick response team from Fort Dix, New Jersey. They had driven up in an eighteen-wheel truck the day before at the request of the Environmental Protection Agency. The World Trade Center and surrounding area were now classified as a hazardous waste site. More than thirty toxic substances had emanated from the twin towers when they collapsed. Paints, chemicals, R-22 refrigerant, all kinds of dangerous materials were suddenly airborne. The Strike Force was providing preliminary air quality monitoring, work they normally would go about in full environmental suits. Not wanting to arouse public panic, however, they wore tier normal uniforms and went about their work professionally and quietly, fully prepared to order an evacuation if they detected any life-threatening substances in lethal doses.

Also on Wednesday morning, activities in New York harbor shifted from evacuation operations to coordinating vessel traffic for the delivery of emergency supplies and relief workers to Ground Zero. Lt. M.D. established three depots, at Battery Park, at Pier 32, and at North Cove. He authorized on-water fuel transfers for rescue boats so they did not have to leave the area and could continue working. He also authorized an order for 175,000 gallons of fuel without a purchase order or contract. Every vessel that arrived checked in with the Coast Guard and was assigned to a specific route based on size and maneuvering characteristics of the vessel.

At one point during the day, the volume of traffic became too high to manage by radio. So the lieutenant instructed all pilots to make visual contact with him on the New York located in the middle of the harbor. Then Lt. M.D. stood for hours on the bow of the pilot boat and directed rescue vessels like a traffic cop.

In the following days, weeks, and months, the United States Coast Guard maintained an active presence at Ground Zero and new York Harbor. At any given time, multiple teams of eight to ten Coast Guard firefighters were at Ground Zero aiding in relief efforts. “We train with the New York Fire Department al the time,” said one. “We’re searching for our friends.”

At any given time, more than twenty members of the Coast Guard’s Atlantic, Gulf, Pacific, and national Strike Force teams worked around the clock. They wrote up the safety plan for Ground Zero and for the Fresh Kills dumpsite. They conducted essential air checks in surrounding buildings. When equipment readings showed safe levels, technicians were allowed temporary access to their offices to remove hard drives and back-up computer systems. Strike Force team members also supervised wash down stations at the perimeter of the disaster site.

At any given time, eight Coast Guard chaplains could be found at Ground Zero. Twenty-nine of them rotated in and out to provide a listening ear, personal counseling, and various prayer and religious services. The chaplains also comforted the families of victims as they were transported across New York Harbor to the disaster site.

At any given time, members of the Coast Guard Auxiliary could be observed providing crisis
counseling at a center they established a few blocks from Ground Zero. Private Auxiliary boats also transported media camera crews, relief supplies, New York firemen, policemen, and other rescue workers. And auxiliarists put themselves on the front lines with twenty-four-hour-a-day status, their boats fully manned. They covered search and rescue operations for the entire area while active duty personnel and reservists c concentrated on port safety, security, waterways management, and homeland security.

The events of September 11, 2001 and its aftermath demonstrated the formidable leadership capabilities of the United States Coast Guard. Through resolute decisiveness, a strong bias for action, and effective communication, the organization was not only able to rush to the nation’s rescue during the crisis, it was also able to shift gears and change the entire organization on a dime. And it did so, quite literally, overnight.

At 8:00 A.M. on that tragic day, less then 10 percent of the resources of the Coast Guard were allocated to port and homeland security. By the close of the next day, the percentage had risen to 57 percent. When the Commandant gave the order to make a right-hand turn and go to homeland security, not a soul or an asset in the Coast Guard stood idle.

Cutters on drug interdiction duty in the Caribbean made a beeline to major ports it he southeastern United States. Those in New England enforcing federal fishery laws took off to cover harbors in the Northeast. And it was the same for cutters on the West Coast, in Alaska, and in the South Pacific. Coast Guard law enforcement officers from Cleveland, New Orleans, ad Portsmouth, Virginia, charged into New York City. All over the country, helicopters and planes, usually relegated to search and rescue operations, began flying reconnaissance along the nation’s shorelines. Captains of the port immediately ramped up security at all the nation’s ports, on the East and West Coasts, the Gulf of Mexico, the Great Lakes, Hawaii, Guam, and Puerto Rico. Small boat stations everywhere from Seattle to Miami, from San Diego to Boston, began twenty-four-hour security patrols. Coast Guard personnel boarded tankers, freighters, cruise ships, and other major vessels. They checked passenger manifests, inspected vessels for hazardous materials, and, when deemed necessary, provided armed escorts. And there were Coasties along every major inland river and waterway in the United States, the Mississippi, the Ohio, the Missouri, and the Potomac. You name it, the Coast Guard was there.

The organization’s building of alliances and forging of relationships was also brought to bear in the crisis. The Navy did not hesitate to work with the Coast Guard in a joint effort to protect the nation’s coastline, ports, and waterways. The New York Harbor Pilots Association helped willingly and without question in relief and port security actions. And all thirty-three thousand members of the Coast Guard Auxiliary poured out of their homes and offices to do whatever was asked of them, to assist, to fill in the gaps, even to take the lead in search and rescue operations. Because of their powerful alliance with the Auxiliary, the United States Coast Guard was able to double its forces overnight.

The concept of “team over self” and the principle of “leveraging resources” were also brought to the forefront. Team Coast Guard was able to coordinate efforts and work flawlessly with a variety of local, state, and federal agencies. Bureaucratic red tape and turf protection never entered the equation anywhere at any time. Everybody worked together to get the job done for the greater good. Coast Guard cutter crews willingly increased their terms of deployment. Personnel at small boat stations worked six and seven days a week, rotating twelve-hour shifts. Many labored around the clock until their supervisors had to order them to take time off. Nearly every active duty member of the Coast Guard was on twenty-four-hour standby for months. And members of the Coast Guard Reserved showed up by the thousands, manning Port Security Units, creating a new Sea Marshals program, and even later providing security at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, where captured Al Qaeda and Taliban terrorists were held.

All around the Coast Guard, young people in the field were empowered to use their best judgment, make their own decisions, and take appropriate actions. And in every case, they rose to the occasion and performed with courage, excellence, and pride. In one of the most daunting crises in American history, the Coast Guard, along with New York’s finest firefighters and policemen, were going into the disaster area when terrified victims were leaving. There were no spectators in the Coast Guard that day. On September 11, 2001, the United States Coast Guard exhibited leadership of the highest order and personified character in action.

[Reprinted from Character In Action: The U.S. Coast Guard On Leadership by Donald T. Phillips with Admiral James M. Loy. Copyright © Donald T. Phillips and James M. Loy; used by permission.]