Our youngest son, Brannon, was home on leave from the United States Marine Corps after finishing boot camp. That morning we got up early to drive him to the airport in Amarillo so he could fly back to San Diego and from there a bus trip to Camp Pendleton. He was going back for combat training.
We were visiting with him about his job he had chosen in the Marines which was to be a crew chief on the C130 transports. Even though we felt he had chosen a fairly safe job, we also knew his first job in the Marines was a rifleman. It is for every Marine. We also talked about if we went to war we knew there was a possibility him and our oldest son, Michael who was also a Marine, could be deployed somewhere for combat duty.
We took him to the airport and watched his plane take off, got back in our van and drove the 50 miles back home to Dumas. My husband had been working shift work so he leaned back in the passenger seat and went to sleep. I stuck a CD into the player and listened to some music as I drove home.
When we walked in the door of our house our phone was ringing. On the other end was a friend of Brannon's asking if we had heard the news. She then told us about the first tower being hit by planes. My husband hung up the phone and we turned on the TV. We couldn't even sit down. We just stood in the middle of the livingroom and watched the news and listened as they announced it was a terrorist attack. We also stood there in stunned silence as the second plane hit and then the towers fell.
I felt like my world had just stopped. Both of our sons were in the Marines. We had just talked about what would happen if we went to war. And now we were sure that was going to happen. At that time I knew one or both of our sons would be going to war.
And at that time we also didn't know where Brannon was. Last we knew he was a United flight that was supposed to make a stop in Denver. I started out trying to call the airport in Amarillo to try and find out any information about his flight. I couldn't get through.
We did hear from Michael. He was in Pensacola, Florida at school for his job training for the Marines. So we knew he was OK. Our daughter was in high school and we knew she was OK. We just didn't know where Brannon was.
I called my office and told them I would not be in until we knew where Brannon was. They said they understood and to not worry about it and they would be praying.
I finally got in touch with the airport in Amarillo and found out that his flight had made it to Denver with no problems. A little while later he called us from the airport. All of the military personnel were in one room and they were being allowed to make phone calls to let family know they were OK.
At that point we were still in shock and still watching the news coverage, but we knew our three kids were safe.
Brannon was supposed to be reporting to Camp Pendleton that day, but he and many other Marines were stuck at various airports. Every week at least a couple hundred Marines report for training, but that week only a couple of Marines made it. The next week when the flights started again, so many Marines flew in to San Diego for Pendleton that it took 24 hours for all of them to be transported.
Brannon did eventually go to Afghanistan for seven months. Michael was never deployed. He was needed stateside and was not allowed to deploy. We also had a nephew in Afghanistan at the same time as Brannon and one of my husband's brothers also was deployed.
It was a horrible day. But afterward our country came together. Everyone was flying the American flag. I had one attached to the antenna of my van for a long time. When one wore out, I attached a new one. To this day I still find it hard to believe it happened, but it did.
Don't let us ever forget.
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