A beautiful sunny day in Seattle was rocked by an explosion. Metro buses lie overturned amid piles of reinforced concrete rubble. An eerie silence descended for a moment as the shock sunk in. Then it began – the cries and screams of the victims. I lay amongst broken concrete and twisted rebar. The back of my hands and arms were blackened and charred. A nearby car began to burn, sending acrid black smoke into the sky and into my eyes. People with horrific injuries began to emerge, one by one, in total shock and disbelief; stumbling over glass and twisted metal. I looked down and found someone’s bloodied, severed arm lying on the ground next to me. I was unable to get up; paralyzed by the horror surrounding me. Disbelief and fear overwhelmed me.

<I hear sirens in the distance, becoming ever louder. The first police and fire units arrived within a few minutes. A police officer provided first aid to those who could make it to her. Relief. Help is here! Please get me out of this! Can they see me?

Then the police and fire department left! Wait! Where are you going? Don’t leave us here! We need help! Hey!

Filled with dismay, I could only lie there and listen to the increasing din of sirens. More and more units were arriving, but why weren’t they helping us?

It seems like forever before I hear muffled voices. I lift my head and see people in full protective clothing moving very slowly amid the rubble. They are taking reading with an instrument and using spray paint to mark whatever they found. I’m realizing this is something real serious. They have moon suits. I don’t.  Now I am really scared.

These people also begin leaving after a short time! Why?

The sun is intense and baking me in my concrete hole. I drift off for a few minutes at a time, finally falling into a semi sleep. I am awakened by the sound of footsteps near my head. I open my eyes to see two men in moon suits looking at me. They are asking me questions, but I don’t speak or understand English. They are frustrated and tired. A red band is tied to my arm and they leave. I’ve been lying here for five hours. A few minutes later another group of four in moon suits arrives with a backboard. I am paralyzed with fear and refuse to move or stand up. They pull me from the rebar and put me on the backboard. They are in a hurry and nearly drop me twice.

Another group takes me to a tent-like shelter. I’m scanned with a “Geiger counter”, which really scares me. My clothes are all cut away and put into a bag. It is really cold in the tent! A doctor asks me something but I can only reply with a shrug. I am put into an ambulance and taken to a hospital.

When we get to the Emergency Room, I remove the IV tube taped to my arm and say goodbye to the ambulance crew. I am greeted with cookies, a hospital gown and high-fives. The hallway is crowded with the blast victims, all laughing and sharing stories. We are all happy. We have been through quite a day. We are the role players in the largest disaster drill ever undertaken in the United States. Tired and sunburned, we are more than ready for the bus trip back to Union Station where the excellent moulage crew will make our injuries go away.

Topoff2 was an important lesson for all. Not only those who were the responders and managers, but for those of us who got to view it from the rubble piles. I can really appreciate the need for well trained and equipped emergency response personnel. We owe it to the victims to train ourselves to the highest level possible. We owe it to the victims to put our own safety first, for we cannot help them if we are the ones needing help.

Return to   THE CONNECTION

  Click on the mail box to e-mail The Connection Editor