David Ortega was on his way to pick up an engagement ring when he turned on the radio in his truck: Two jets had crashed into the World Trade Center.
He grabbed his cell phone and called his girlfriend, Susan Martindale.
"Turn on the television," he said. "Something is happening."
After picking up the ring and stuffing it into his pocket, he went to see Susan. They watched replays of the towers collapsing without really saying anything.
"There are firefighters in there," he thought.
"This could be him," she thought.
Ortega, 46, is a firefighter, a 10-year veteran, at Engine 54, a fire station on Grand River in Detroit.
"Oh God, honey," he said. "I just got this ring. Should I give it to you now or should I wait?"
"Now," she said.
He went down on a knee. "Will you marry me?"
"Absolutely."
They were filled with excitement and grief, horror and happiness.
"It was both sides of the coin," David remembers, "a bittersweet experience."
They held each other, listening to reports that hundreds of New York firefighters had died, including 15 men from Engine 54, at Eighth Avenue and 48th Street.
Engine 54?
"I think that's enough for now," David said, turning off the TV.
Twenty minutes later, she turned it back on.
"I had to watch it," Susan remembers. "I was shaken up. I think it hit me more because he's a fireman. I had a lot of sympathy for them. David's the type, if he were in New York, he would have been one of the first ones in."
A few days after the attacks, David told Susan that he planned to volunteer to go to New York City to help dig in the rubble. "That's when they thought they would need a lot of help," Susan says. "That was tough, too, but I supported him 100 percent. I knew it was something he wanted to do and should do."
As it turned out, they had enough volunteers in New York City, so David stayed in Detroit and turned his attention to Susan.
At a time when the nation was filled with fear and uncertainty, wondering if or when the next attack might take place, afraid that no one was really safe anymore, David and Susan came to a realization: There's no reason to wait for anything.
Nine days after the attacks, they were married by an Oakland County judge.
"Why wait for tomorrow?" David says. "I didn't want to lose her again. We had dated five years earlier and we split up. We were back together for a couple of months and I just knew she was the one."
"I didn't have a doubt," she says.
But the last year has been difficult for Susan, 43.
Haunted by the images of Sept. 11 and the deaths of so many firefighters, she's scared whenever David leaves for work.
"Very scared," she says. "It's because I know what kind of fireman he is. He's willing to give his life for his job. I understand it. But there's a part of me that says, "Think before you do it, because I can't lose you.' "
The worst part is when she can't reach him.
"I'll call his cell and he's not there, and then I'll call the phone at Engine 54, and there is no answer," she says. "And then I find myself calling again in 5 minutes. I don't know what happened, and I start to worry, and there have been a couple of times when it's taken my breath away."
Susan has told David several times that she wished he had a different occupation, that she's afraid he will give his life trying to save someone, but she's never asked him to quit.
"This is my job," he says. "This is what I love to do. If that's what it calls for, that's what I'm going to do."
Teresa Thomas, Firefighter at Engine 54, 5-year veteran, Union representative "I remember feeling very frightened, extremely filled with grief, for the people who took the losses. I remember being very afraid. Here was a war, in our backyard.
"It was almost the rude awakening of all the dangers we face as firefighters. I got so used to jumping off the back of an engine, dragging a line into a dwelling and putting the water on the fire. That had become a no-brainer.
"After 9/11, there was a change in the community. All of a sudden, horns are tooting as we'd ride up and down the street. People were waving, blowing kisses. They'd say, 'I'm so proud of you.'
"It seemed like the whole city, state and nation saw us as the front line defense. Police and fire. People were giving us high fives and saying, 'I have a lot of respect for you guys,' but the people who could make things happen for us, their ears are not open. We didn't get raises. We didn't get better equipment due to Sept. 11.
"Politicians often say what you want to hear, when they are en route to the bank, cashing their endorsement check. When it's time to produce, there has been no return. We haven't looked for much, just ways to help us do what we do better. Better equipment. Ways to get us there safer.
"It makes me very frustrated. It's not that I chose a job where I put my life on the line to make a million dollars. It's not that I expect extra money. It's not that we are trying to capitalize on an incident. It's more that I feel like our services are not valued. I think we've been taken for granted. We need better equipment. Stuff breaks down on the rig. We aren't fully staffed. We want adequate manpower. Proper safety equipment. Let the garbage man pick up the garbage in rickety trucks. Why are you going to jeopardize people who are trying to save lives?"
Sgt. Derrick Williams, Firefighter at Engine 54, 19-year veteran "When the buildings came down, it hit me: There are policemen and firemen in there. On this job, you aren't promised tomorrow. Until you see what we do, you can never appreciate why a fireman lives hard and fast on his days off. Whether they admit it or not, tomorrow isn't promised. You do what you can, when you can, and as hard and as fast as you can.
"It's not a regular job.
"My dad did 44 years with Ford, and they would take that chunk of metal and then at the end of the line, you'd see the car. You feel proud. When we pull up to a fire, there is smoke, people injured or trapped, but we will put the fire out, come hell or high water. When we go to leave and you hear the water dripping in the houses, but the fire is out, and you feel great. I did that. I had a hand in putting that out. You feel good.
"This job is like Vietnam. Vietnam was not a conventional war; this job is not a conventional job. It's 24 hours. Some days, the lull is so bad you are almost going out of your mind: 'Give me a fire!' But after the third or fourth one, you say: 'Please, no more.' In Vietnam, you were eating your K rations, chillin' with your boys about the new '68 Camaro you are going to buy and then you are fighting for your life.
"In the Fire Department, you are sitting there, chillin', eating and talking about the new minivan you are going to buy. The next thing you know, you are fighting for your life. You do an 18-month tour in Vietnam. You do a 25-year tour here. People are starting to see what we do. My wife would say: 'If you let anything happen to you, I'm going to kill you.' And I'd say: 'I'd already be dead.' " He laughs.
Bridgette J.B. Hall, Emergency Medical Technician at Engine 54, 2 1/2-year veteran "In this job, you are used to death, used to dying, used to sick people. But you are always used to it being somebody else, a patient. But for the first time in my career, after Sept. 11, it was personalized. 'It could be us,' I was thinking. 'Who is going to go in and get us?'
"Since Sept. 11, when I leave for work, still to this day, I call a family member to let them know which truck I'm on. If something happens, I just want them to know where to start looking for me.
"Working in the city of Detroit, you see a lot of traumatic scenes. I'm used to that. What changed for me is that I realized getting into arguments with my partner isn't worth it. Every run could be your last run. I don't major on the minor. If we get into a little disagreement, let it go. A building could collapse on us, so let it go. Don't argue. Whatever happens, let it go.
"Sept. 11 brought me closer to God. Sometimes you get lost in the hustle and bustle. Now I'm praying, 'Lord, keep me and my partner safe.' I know for a fact, if I get there, I can help you. I can't promise to save your life. That's up to God, who lives and who dies. But I know for a fact that I can help."
Capt. Dennis Welcher, The highest-ranking officer at Engine 54, 29-year veteran "I was at home, watching television. I was in total shock. I knew there would be a lot of firefighters in there. I knew they would be in trouble. I wonder what was going through their minds as the building was coming down. I put myself in their place and I think I would have been doing the same thing they were doing. I would have been wiped out in a matter of seconds, but, probably, all 300 of them would have done it again.
"I am thinking about it more and more, every day. . . . I sit there in front of the TV, spellbound, like everybody else. I'm just saddened about the amount of guys who died.
"But this is what I do. If it's my time to go, at least I went out the way I wanted to go out, doing what I love. I realize it could happen any second, but that's what I love; that's what I do.
"9/11 made me step back and take note of what I would have done, could have done. It made me more aware, especially with high rises.
"I don't worry so much with the little houses. You know when to go in and when to stay out. We don't have so many high rises out on Grand River, but when I was downtown for 14 years in the Cass Corridor, we had plenty of six- and seven-floor apartment houses.
"I bet you for one second, there weren't any guys in New York who thought that building would come tumbling down. They are supposed to be made so they can hold the fire. They were going to work their way up and put out the fire, that's what they do.
"I love everything about this job. The camaraderie. The engine house life. I love the actual heat of battle.
"When I got out of the service, I drove a bus. I never thought about being a firefighter. One day, as I was driving a bus, I watched them stretch (pulling hose) on a house over on Alter Road on the east side. I said, that looks pretty cool. I'd love to do that. A job came up, I put in my application and waited a couple of years. It took me two years to come on and God blessed me.
"After 9/11, my neighbor came over and knocked on the door. She was crying and she had to give me a hug. She said, 'I'm so proud of you guys.'
