The Day I'll Never Forget

Others perished in the Pentagon on 9/11. Why didn't I?

Linda Herbert as told to Lisa Tuttle

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September 11, 2001, began like any other day. My alarm sounded at 5:30 A.M., sending me to the shower, then in search of a clean Army uniform, standard dress for my job at the Pentagon. At 6:25 A.M. I boarded Washington, D.C.'s monorail system, which transported me to work.

As an active-duty Army officer, I'm assigned to the Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel. In the performance of my daily duties, I distribute documents to the offices of high-ranking officials, including Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld.

In late June 2001, my directorate moved into a newly renovated section on the Pentagon's west side. In addition to being beautifully decorated, the area boasted enhanced safety features such as emergency-activated smoke doors, water sprinklers, and blast-resistant windows.

I arrived at my desk at 7:30 A.M. Two hours later, a colleague seated at a desk near mine checked the Internet for the latest news. I heard him exclaim, "Two commercial jet planes have hit the World Trade Center towers!" Word spread and people left their desks to watch the televised reports on New York City's unfolding tragedy. I was tempted to follow them, but a pile of paperwork demanded my attention.

The officer seated across from me had other ideas. "Linda, let's go watch the television," she insisted. Because she outranked me, I relented.

We stood riveted before a television, shaken by the devastation in Manhattan. I knew the Pentagon, the nation's defense headquarters, would be called upon to respond to the attacks. I decided to return to my desk and finish my work in expectation of new orders.

Before I reached my cubicle, my supervisor intercepted me. "Linda, senior leadership has activated the special operational team, and you're a part of it. Report to the meeting room on the lower level right away."

Had I continued walking, I would have been directly in front of the windows when the glass imploded.

"Yes, sir. I'll just shut down my computer and grab my wallet, then I'll go."

I started toward my desk, but he blocked my way. "You don't have time. You need to go now. Leave the bay immediately and report for duty downstairs."

I stared at him, surprised at his harsh tone of voice. Another coworker approached. "I'm heading in the same direction, Linda. We can walk together." She gripped my arm and hustled me toward the door. We tried to leave the bay, but another supervisor stopped us and offered instructions. I quickly realized his orders didn't pertain to my duties and couldn't understand why he was relaying them to me. As I listened, I wondered why all my supervisors suddenly were acting so strange.

As he finished his last sentence, three ear-splitting blasts ripped through the building, shaking the walls and floors. The windows in the bay cracked and imploded, raining glass into the area.

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Originally published in: Today's Christian Woman, 2004, September/October, Vol. 26, Issue 5, Page 28

Related Topics:
Protection, September 11 (2001)

More from Linda Herbert as told to Lisa Tuttle:
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