09/11/2026
Today we remember the events of 9/11/01. 25 years has passed and we have not forgotten the impact that day had.
Here is a statement from our very own Lee Shurtleff. The impact and response it had on our county and our fire department. The picture of our ambulance was from it being staged near Ground Zero.
Retired Director, Tompkins County Department of Emergency Response
Past Chief, Groton Fire Department
I can remember when older generations would recall where they were when they heard of the Kennedy assassination, when Elvis died or when the space shuttle exploded. For my generation, our “where were you” moment shifts to Tuesday, 9-11-01.
My plans that ideal, late summer morning included a short trip to the office followed by a rare midweek golf outing. The morning news played in the background as I was contemplating a button-down shirt or polo. The breaking news was an incident at the World Trade Center. As I absorbed the unfolding scene, the second plane hit. Clearly an event of national significance was occurring, and my thoughts were to get to the office. The clubs stayed on the porch.
The office then was at the Crash-Fire-Rescue Building of the Tompkins County Airport. Our emergency management operations shared space with airport administration. It was designated as the county’s emergency operations center, long adorned with the signage, but never before officially used for the purpose. It checked the box.
News of the Pentagon disaster was breaking as I pulled into the parking lot. Descending on the building were county and city leaders, police chiefs, agency heads. They weren’t summoned: their reflexes instinctively pulled them to the one place that might provide answers to an incomprehensible scenario.
My boss was Jack Miller, the county’s Fire & Disaster Coordinator of three decades. He was preparing for retirement and prepping me to assume his responsibilities. “You’re the emergency management guy, see if you can steer this discussion,” he told me.
Folks sat down, and we talked though a situational report. The Airport Manager had received faxes from the Federal Aviation Administration; air space was closing. Cornell University was receiving alerts from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission; at the time, they had assorted reactor units on campus and a large concentration of international students and staff. Every agency had a piece of information to add, and security measures were implemented generally based on unguided speculation. It was our sense and purpose to project a high level of security and preparedness and to provide a coordinated flow of communication, both to the response community and the county at large.
A public information team was assembled, statement of actions developed, a news conference scheduled. Hours were spent culling information from the news feeds and merging briefs from all our Albany and Washington contacts. In the absence of high-level directives, our mission became one of reassurance and resources.
Late Thursday afternoon, some 48 hours later, I received a call from the NYS Health Department. What was the possibility of a deployment of EMS units to New York City within 24 hours? I could likely put two on the road, one commercial (Bangs Ambulance), one volunteer (Groton’s second rig with staffing from the Dryden, Groton & Slaterville Ambulance services) and still maintain adequate backfill for local needs.
DOH was looking for six-person crews, two drivers, two advanced life support providers, two basic EMTs to split into twelve-hour assignments at Ground Zero. We were to arrive at a staging area at Chelsea Piers no later, and no sooner, than 11:00 PM on Friday evening. Bring official credentials and be prepared for intensive screening.
Our crews were split up upon arrival, three stayed with the ambulance and placed in a queued line-up. The unassigned relief crews were guided to the USS Comfort, the Navy’s hospital carrier ship that was anchored in the pier. We bunked overnight, were fed, and at 11:00 the next morning, swapped out with the first crew.
The Groton rig was dispatched to Ground Zero and transported an injured construction worker. Lights and siren to Bellevue Hospital with law enforcement units placed at every intersection along the cleared pathway.
We spent the day on a park bench next to our ambulance. There were expectations, or at least hopes, that pockets of survivors would be uncovered at the nearby disaster site. Throughout the day, we lost count of the processions of unmarked, police escorted vehicles transporting the mounting casualties.
In that grueling period of time, operations and focus evolved from one of rescue to one of recovery. The stillness and haze, the reality of the devastation, and the bitter resignation to the circumstances charged our thoughts.
Despite years of planning for a disaster on my own relatively rural turf, it had never occurred to me that our people and equipment could be deployed to a place like New York City: after all, they were the pre-eminent responders, the ones with the experience and technical skills that we might someday need upstate.
A quarter century later, the scene still plays out in my memories. The roller coaster of emotions, bewilderment, hopes, and, yes, despair, remains, while the concept and appreciation for mutual aid is forever transformed.
