Breathing masks, bloodied bandages, and much broken glass testified to the human carnage that had taken place there hours before. Thick grey dust covered everything. Northwest of the building, a block-long square area had instantaneously become an international media center, camera crews mixing with fallen debris, van food vendors, and cars demolished by the blast. Overhead, helicopters circled the downtown radius accusingly pointing flood lights at the empty streets. The sounds of sirens, voices, and motors blended effectively with the humming of drilling equipment at the site, where workers used lighted cranes to continue rescue operations around the clock.
On that fateful spring morning, 171 people (counting
the unborn) died, and hundreds of survivors were maimed and injured, forever
scarred. The hundreds of rescuers from
all over the world that came those first few weeks will be eternally haunted by
what they saw at the site: debris, twisted metal, and shards of broken glass
mingled with the smell of death and reminders of those who worked there—purses,
pieces of clothing, toys, shoes, and grisly body parts.
“It’s worse than the most horrible Friday the 13th movie you can imagine—you can’t walk out of this theatre,” told me 25-year-old Steve Mavros from the Oklahoma Canine Search and Rescue out of Tulsa. Mavros and his specially trained dog, Bucephalos, were one of the first deployed to the site to identify the location of humans and human remains. “We would have a hit—a human find—but only find a piece of a body.”
“It’s worse than the most horrible Friday the 13th movie you can imagine—you can’t walk out of this theatre,” told me 25-year-old Steve Mavros from the Oklahoma Canine Search and Rescue out of Tulsa. Mavros and his specially trained dog, Bucephalos, were one of the first deployed to the site to identify the location of humans and human remains. “We would have a hit—a human find—but only find a piece of a body.”
"And Jesus Wept" statue
across the street from the OKC Memorial site
It is important that we remember April 19th,
1995. Remember the lives of those who died, not only where they died. Remember
the victims’ families. Remember those who survived and are still struggling to
heal. Remember the stories of tireless rescue workers who risked their lives in
the still-trembling building to find survivors, and eventually, to bring the
dead home.
Remember how there was no looting in that wrecked downtown, and how crime was virtually non-existent for several days in this city of 500,000. Remember the thousands of devoted community volunteers. Remember how the money turned in after the blast from the Federal Employees Credit Union vault housed in the Murrah building exceeded the money originally held in that vault. We will always remember that the stories of human goodness, generosity and compassion overwhelmed and conquered one despicable act of evil.
Remember how there was no looting in that wrecked downtown, and how crime was virtually non-existent for several days in this city of 500,000. Remember the thousands of devoted community volunteers. Remember how the money turned in after the blast from the Federal Employees Credit Union vault housed in the Murrah building exceeded the money originally held in that vault. We will always remember that the stories of human goodness, generosity and compassion overwhelmed and conquered one despicable act of evil.
"the fence," where people from all over the world have left personal items,
uniting themselves to the city and those who suffered here
Prayers for peace...
ReplyDeleteAmen, sister!
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