Photo By Airman Najzee Kuzu | The Desert Lightning Team participates in the 9/11 Memorial Sunset Ruck at...... read more read more
Subscribe
On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, my dad, Timur Kuzu, woke up in his apartment in Tucson, Arizona, unaware that the world was about to change forever. He was enrolled in Airman Leadership School at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, focused on starting the first week of classes, when the news hit.
“I remember waking up, turning on the TV and just thinking, ‘This is crazy,’” he told me during a recent phone call. “I was getting ready to head to ALS, and then the recall came. They wanted everyone on base immediately.”
His roommate, a fellow Airman from New York, was home visiting family at the time. For three long days, my dad couldn’t reach him. Phone lines were jammed, the country was in shock and uncertainty was everywhere. When he finally got through, he learned his roommate had been stuck on a bridge in New York for nearly ten hours as the city locked down.
Back at Davis-Monthan, life shifted overnight. “They told us not to wear blues anymore,” he said, referring to the formal Air Force service dress uniform. “Everything was BDUs (Battle Dress Uniforms) from then on. Even for ALS, we’d change into blues just for inspections and then right back into BDUs. Nobody wanted to stand out off-base.”
Security at the gates intensified. Humvees appeared overnight and Airmen were told never to drive the same route twice in a row. Intramural sports paused. Base routines like heightened security became part of a new reality; alternating routes, long lines at the gate and a constant reminder that the nation was under threat.
“There was a lot of confusion… and a lot of anger,” my dad said. “But nobody complained about the 12-hour shifts or the changes. We all knew why we were doing it.”
As an A-10 engine mechanic, he worked in the back shops that kept the aircraft mission-ready. Within weeks, their workload skyrocketed. Davis-Monthan was the number one supplier for A-10 engines in the United States, and after 9/11, demand surged. “We went from 30 or 40 engines on hand to like two or three,” he said. “We were on 12s immediately, making sure those birds could fly.”
For him 9/11 was not just one day; it marked the start of a new chapter in his military career. He became a security forces augmentee, deploying to assist with checkpoints and translations because he spoke Turkish. He spent nearly a year overseas, working with K-9 units at security posts, joining joint operations and even navigating mountains on horseback to support missions.
“Nobody complained down range,” he told me. “Cold showers, long hours, it didn’t matter. We knew why we were there.”
I stand on the same ground my father stood on 25 years ago, on the day that changed everything. It's my first assignment. It was, in its own way, his too, the moment the job stopped being routine and became something personal. "It was an adjustment that never went back," he said. "Everything changed after that."
Listening to him, I understand the magnitude of 9/11 differently now. It wasn't just history, it was the day his duty stopped being a job description and became a promise he carried for the rest of his career.
Standing here, in his footsteps as an Airman in the U.S. Air Force, I carry that promise too.
| Date Taken: | 09.11.2026 |
| Date Posted: | 09.11.2026 22:32 |
| Story ID: | 574333 |
| Location: | DAVIS-MONTHAN AIR FORCE BASE, ARIZONA, US |
| Web Views: | 8 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, Twenty-five years later: 9/11 at Davis-Monthan for the Kuzus, by Amn Najzee Kuzu, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
No keywords found.
