My name is Gerry Kitzhaber. Today is the 22nd of January, 2003. On September 11, 2001 I was in my office in the Pentagon, on the third floor of the B-ring, in the fourth corridor on the outside of the B-ring, working in the office of the Army G-3. My boss at the time was Brigadier General Glenn Webster. His office was on the E-ring, directly near the point of impact.
On that morning, I got to work at about 6:30 AM and went to the Pentagon Athletic Club, went for a run up through Washington, DC, around the monument, passed the Lincoln Memorial, and returned pretty much like every other day. I recall it was a very beautiful day outside, very sunny and bright. Didn’t seem out of the ordinary in any way. I returned to my office about 8:00 or 8:30, sat down and had a cup of coffee. One of my office mates told me to change the station on my radio to a different station, and we listened for a while and found out what had happened in New York. We spent the next 10 or 15 minutes just standing around the radio trying to get as much information as we could about what happened in New York, and back and forth, trying to understand really what happened, and discussing who likely was the suspect and the name Osama bin Laden was the first thing one of my co-workers said.
I had a briefing packet I needed to get to Brigadier General Webster that morning and had just finished printing it out and intended to deliver it to his office as soon as I could. Then, my wife called me, and on the other end of the line I could hear her say Happy Birthday as September 11th is my birthday. I asked her if she listened to the radio or TV that morning, and she had not. I told her what happened in New York. Her first response was, “Are you okay? Are you safe there? Are you safe in the Pentagon?”
My response was, “Yes, nothing happens here.” This was the Pentagon, somewhat ironic in my response.
I spoke with her for a few minutes, and as I finished talking, I hung up the phone and twirled around in my chair. I was going to stand up and take the briefing packet to Brigadier General Webster and then continue my conversation with my office mates who were discussing who the likely suspects were in New York. Just as I was about to stand up from my desk, or from my chair, rather, the plane impacted the outside of the Pentagon and nearly sent me sprawling onto the floor. It was a tremendous explosion, and I could feel the shock wave come through the building, and dirt and rocks and debris of all sorts was flying outside my window because my window bordered just between the B and the C-ring. The impact of the plane broke through the C-ring, and all the hot air and gasses and inertia from the plane as it blew out to the C-ring, turned the inner space between the B and the C-ring into what sounded like a wind tunnel with chunks of concrete and debris flying in every direction.
After that happened, we secured everything in our office and then made a very deliberate and hurried walk down the hallway to exit the building. We assembled in the Center Courtyard of the Pentagon and took accountability to ensure we knew the status of every member of our team. We had most everyone we knew in the office that day. And we stood there and waited for a few minutes to see what we ought to do. And I looked around, and I noticed a group of Air Force personnel gathering around a spot on the grass in the Center Courtyard. As I got closer, I noticed that in the midst of this crowd, there was a piece of airplane debris, and I could tell it still had the red and blue strips of some airline. So, I knew at that point that we had been struck by an airplane of some kind.
I rejoined my office mates in the Center Courtyard and turned to one of my office mates and stated, “There were two planes which hit New York, so where’s the second one?” His face flushed and his eyes drew open wide and he gasped, “I don’t know, but let’s get the hell out of here.” I didn’t think waiting there was a really good idea. We first attempted to exit the Center Courtyard through the eighth corridor, as I knew this would get us out of the building and into the north parking lot. As we entered the first doorway, we were met by what seemed like a stampede of people coming in our direction toward the Center Courtyard. This made absolutely no sense to us, the only thing which came to our minds was there must be somebody at the exit with a machine gun or something of that effect, because it just didn’t seem logical that people would be running towards the Center Courtyard, so we came back into the Center Courtyard.
By the time we got into the Center Courtyard, we were met by a security officer standing at the top of stairwell leading into the second floor. He had a weapon in his hand and was directing everyone to exit the building through the second corridor which would take us into the south parking lot of the Pentagon. We moved very deliberately out of the building and into the south parking lot. Just as we entered the south parking lot, an announcement came from the PA system from one of the security vehicles and instructed everyone to exit the parking lot as there was an unidentified aircraft coming in our direction. Everybody very directly moved to the south end of the parking lot where there is a pedestrian passageway which takes you under I-395 and into the parking lot of the Pentagon City Mall. The passageway was wide enough for three and at most four people to walk abreast. Needless to say it was packed as tightly as possible. The Pentagon work force consists of 23,000 personnel and likely half of them were there in the South Parking Lot.
This was perhaps one of the worst feelings in my life, the lack of security, you don’t know might happen next. Where can you go to be safe? The New York City Twin Towers had been attacked. The Pentagon had been attacked. It seemed as if there was no place safe to go for any of us. One of my co-workers and I viewed the large crowd of people attempting to get through the passageway. Our thoughts immediately turned to what could happen next with this large crowd of people all attempting to exit through a narrow passageway. We decided to go around to the far west end of the parking lot and avoid the large crowd. As we walked to the west end of the parking lot I looked back to see this huge gaping hole in the Pentagon, it was as if I was looking at a movie set. It was just incomprehensible. How could something this horrific happen anywhere, let alone in the Pentagon. I recall standing there for a few moments just looking at it, and there really wasn’t anything I could say. I felt numb at the time. I really didn’t know what to feel.
We then left the south parking lot and scrambled down a concrete embankment, not intended for pedestrians, and made our way to the Pentagon City Mall. Many of my co-workers again assembled to discuss what we should do next. We then learned one of the towers had collapsed in New York. At this time, most cell phones did not work; however, one of my office mates did have a good connection with his wife. He passed his phone around to all of us and we gave his wife our home numbers and the name of our wives, she later contacted each of them to let them know we were safe and would find our way home, somehow.
Then we heard the roar of two F-15’s as they flew over the Pentagon. This provided some semblance of relief with the thought we shouldn’t have to worry about any more airplanes crashing into us from out of the sky. At the same time, I remained deeply concerned about another attack from something other than an airplane. These concerns ran through my mind as no matter where I went or what I did, I had to think twice about it, because if I made a bad decision or the wrong decision, it could very well be my last. Not long after the F-15’s flew over the local police directed us all to leave the area.
We left the area, and I walked back to the Army National Guard Readiness Center, which is a couple miles away. From there I made several phone calls to relatives to let them know I was safe. A friend of mine who worked at the Readiness Center gave me a ride to his apartment and we watched the news trying to learn more about what had happened.
I finally got home about 6:00 or 6:30, never really did celebrate my birthday that evening, but the following year, we did go out in fine fashion and celebrate my birthday. Every year from then on, we celebrate my birthday on September 11th. We’re not going to let some tin horn terrorists take that away from us, at least not in my family.
Future generations, I’m sure, are going to look back at this day and much the same as I look back on the attack on Pearl Harbor and wonder how it could happen, we could debate that forever. But the one thing that future generations must always remember is that freedom is not free. We must work hard to keep our freedom, so things like this won’t happen in the future. Thank you.
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