About Mychal's Message: Our Stories

Impressions of September 11, 2001
by Honorary NYC Fire Chaplain the Reverend Everett J. Wabst, a retired NYC Firefighter

The morning started off with the great promise of a relaxed and lovely late summer day. I was on my way to meet with a firefighter’s widow at the request of my friend, NYC Fire chaplain Fr. Mychal Judge. Later in the morning I hoped to catch up with Mychal for lunch or at least to give him a couple boxes of prayer cards that he requested. Sherry (my wife) and I hoped to have dinner together and then enjoy a sunset cruise on our boat before settling in for a quiet evening together.

While on my way out the door the phone rang just before 9am. My wife’s sister was calling to tell me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I knew that hundreds of firefighters would be involved and I prepared to head for the site. My son (Warren, an FDNY EMT) joined me for the ride in; as we met the news of a plane crashing into the second tower stunned us. We both grabbed extra clothes and gear and started the drive to FDNY Headquarters, which are a few minutes from the WTC.

We knew that this was a terrorist attack as soon as the second plane hit and that there would be hundreds of casualties. The first tower collapsed as we drove in. Now we feared thousands of casualties. I had a foreboding that Fr. Mychal was in trouble and I had no idea how it would all hit me when I reached the devastation, I prayed for strength and said the Serenity prayer.

I dropped Warren off at the EMS communications building where he worked. We hugged and knew that we would probably see horrors that would haunt us forever. I borrowed his cell phone and told him I might see him there if they needed all the EMT’s they could get. The roar of the second tower collapsing shocked us into the reality that we just might not see each other again…we hugged once more and set out to do our jobs.

I parked and went to see if a Fire Department car was headed for the site. I ran into a group of Fire Marshals who told me that Fr. Mychal didn’t make it. We consoled one another momentarily and I joined them for the ride over. I filled my pockets with the prayer cards that I was going to give to Fr. Mychal. The cards had two prayers, the Serenity Prayer on one side and an unnamed prayer that Mychal wrote on the other side. Mychal told few people that he wrote the second prayer, but it is now widely known as Mychal’s Prayer. That prayer helped me, and many others, to get through that day and the hundreds of days that have followed.

I left the Fire Marshals at West Street and walked into the surreal landscape that now entombed thousands of victims. Thick gray dust and the smell of death mixed with burning jet fuel were pervasive. Stunned and staggering civilians and emergency workers were everywhere. Fires roared in the buildings adjoining what had been the Trade Center complex. A constant flow of fresh workers were streaming in and looking for direction. I was stopped countless times and asked by victims and workers for a blessing. I would read them Fr. Mychal’s prayer, tell them that the priest who wrote it died there. I then gave the prayer card to them as I traced the sign of the cross in the dust on their foreheads. I repeated this ritual thousands of times in the days that turned to months as we dug for survivors and the fallen.

Before noon, I met another Fire Chaplain who had narrowly escaped with his life, Fr John Delendick. We walked the outskirts as he mentioned some of the horrors, but for the most part we walked in silence. The Commissioner of Communication Stephen Gregory happened on us and told us where Fr. Mychal’s body had been taken, so we set out to pay our last respects. We walked and talked aimlessly for a while, but we finally reached St. Peters Church where we met a small group of emergency workers and chaplains who were saying their farewells to Fr. Mychal. Fr. Delendick and I wished each other well and set out in different directions to do what we could. We were numb, but I could hardly comprehend the horrors that he related as he saw the initial devastation and the countless bodies falling and jumping from the stricken towers.

I found myself walking, talking to anyone who wanted to talk, digging for survivors and praying. I located the closest triage centers to direct people to, and listened in awe as Dr. Kerry Kelly and then Dr. David Presant (the FDNY chief medical officers) told me their harrowing near death experiences as each tower fell. I was saddened, but moved and inspired by their resolve to hold on and aid the suffering. They were and are amazing people.

On one of my rounds between digging and directing victims to help, I stopped back at the church to pray beside Mychal. Fr. Peter Brophy (the superior at the St. Francis Friary on 31st Street where Mychal was assigned) approached me and asked if I could help to get Mychal’s body released to him. He was afraid that his remains would be misplaced with the impending discovery of thousands of victims. After a brief void in locating someone with the authority to accomplish the task, Dr. Kelly graciously approved the release.

UFOA officers, FDNY-EMS workers along with Fr. Brophy, Fr. Kevin Smith (Fr. Smith had Mychal’s body taken from the street into the church hours before) and I carried Father Mychal Judge to an EMS ambulance.

I took one of the prayer cards that I had intended to deliver to Mychal earlier that day and used both prayers to bless him, and all of us, as his remains were taken away. Those present knew or sensed how close Mychal and I were and they asked if I wanted to accompany him. I told them that Mychal would want me to stay and minister to the suffering. I watched until the ambulance was consumed by the thick gray dust and returned to the sides of the workers. I gave out all two thousand of the prayer cards (that were meant for Mychal) in the twenty-four hours after his death (Steve Rush of Fire Headquarters had about seventy thousand more produced over the next few months and the prayer was used at scores of services for the fallen).

The hours and days have melted into months and now into years. The sadness has not diminished and is even a little worse for me as the third anniversary is upon us. After being labeled as heroes against their will, the treatment of our Firefighters, their families and their human frailties has descended to an all time low, by the Department and the press. They do their jobs as well as ever, but a pervading sadness is noticeable from the youngest to the oldest. Some still see the towers falling and those who joined us after 9/11 are among the first generation of firefighters to labor under the specter of mass violent death. Every weakness is broadcast and punishment is bizarre and extreme, but they do their jobs…God Bless them, God help them!

In spite of all the troubles my faith is unshaken and I have two strong prayers to start and end each day with…along with those prayers I have the indelible memory of Mychal’s smile and his faith as he said, “It will be OK, just treat each other well and God will take care of the rest”.

Serenity Prayer

God, Grant me the Serenity to accept

the things I cannot change...the

Courage to change the things I can…

and the Wisdom to know the difference.

Mychal’s Prayer

Lord, take me where you want me to go

Let me meet who you want me to meet

Tell me what you want me to say

and keep me out of your way.

In Memory of

Father Mychal Judge O.F.M., FDNY Chaplain and the thousands of innocents who went from the World Trade Center to Heaven on September 11, 2001.

All those who have perished because of the human frailty on all sides that deems war and death to be an acceptable or inevitable solution to their fears and hatreds, before and since 9/11/01.

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This page was last updated on: June 4, 2005.

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