Naive no more; Remembering Sept. 11

CAMP FOSTER, OKINAWA, JAPAN

09.06.2013

Story by Cpl. Adam Miller 

III Marine Expeditionary Force   

Growing up in a small, mountain community, life was carefree. The only fears I had were being caught sneaking in or out of the house past curfew, or if my teacher called my parents from school saying I failed a test. The truth is, I did not have a real comprehension of the true, overwhelming power of fear and how helplessly weak it can make you feel. I would not say my parents sheltered me from the cruel realities of the world, but I can say I was naive; naive until Sept. 11, 2001. On that day, I learned what it felt like to be truly afraid, and I was thousands of miles away from the attacks.

I was a high school sophomore and it was a typical Tuesday morning for the Miller household, just as it was for most American families. My stepmom woke me to get ready for school. I could hear her pouring a cup of coffee and clicking over to the news channel as she always did. The program was usually a panel of talking heads squawking about politics or gabbing about celebrities, things I could not have cared less about. Not this morning. This morning there was no talk or footage of such trivial things.

I remember the images I watched on TV. The gaping hole between the 92nd and 98th floors of the World Trade Center’s North tower where the first plane crashed, flames rushing out of its opening and billowing clouds of gray smoke filling the sky above New York City.

As scary as that was to watch, it wasn’t even the worst part for me to see. It wasn’t what triggered my first feelings of what fear really is. It was seeing a businessman standing at the edge of a broken window, high above the street and falling to his death.

I thought to myself, “This man’s only options were to jump, be burned alive, or crushed inside the failing structure of the tower.”

The days and weeks following that terrifying morning left me in a seemingly perpetual state of fear and stress that I could not shake. I thought I was being selfish for feeling the way I did because nothing actually happened to me, my family or anybody I knew. Everyone I loved was fine. I thought it was not fair to feel sorry for myself because there were more than 2,900 people who died that day; their friends and families left behind without a warning or goodbye. I tried telling myself it wasn’t my problem or that I should not feel this way, yet I still could not shake off the stress it caused me. The only way I can possibly describe it is by comparing it to claustrophobia and paranoia.

After three weeks had passed, I finally worked up the courage to talk to my dad about it. I told him I was afraid something horrific might happen to us. I told him I couldn’t understand how something like this could happen in the first place since we are supposed to be the world’s super power and best-protected country.

My dad told me that no matter how heinous this act of terrorism was, and no matter how bad it makes us feel, there will still be more, maybe even worse, and that there were attacks in our history too. He told me that these things happen all over the world, but the reason I felt so upset about it was because it happened relatively close to home.

But then he told me something that changed me forever, he said, “Adam, you feel this way because you feel guilty, not guilty for doing something, but guilty for not being able to do anything.”

I thought about it for a minute. I thought it didn’t make sense. How could I be feeling guilty for something that had absolutely nothing to do with me? But my dad was right. I was naive and oblivious, but not anymore.

“The important thing, Adam, is that we always remember the times in our history like this, so we can learn from them,” my dad said. “If we allow ourselves to forget, then our efforts to make things right will have been in vain.”

I often think about why I joined the military and I’m sure the reasons change every time it comes up, but the one reason that always sticks with me without change is this sense of responsibility I owe to my country; my personal understanding of patriotism. I do not know for sure when or where I picked it up, but I think it might have something to do with how I felt on 9/11 and the days since.

• Date Taken: 09.06.2013
• Date Posted: 09.09.2013 22:49
• Story ID: 113362
• Location: CAMP FOSTER, OKINAWA, JP