I found this over at A Little More To The Right. It's recordings that amature radio operator Robert Sanford made on September 11th, 2001.
Another East Coast friend used the Internet to feed Sanford radio transmissions between police and fire officials and dispatchers.
Sanford started listening _ and then he started recording, capturing more than two hours of wrenching exchanges.
They're somewhat graphic. That's to be expected, when a police dispatcher is attempting to raise units on the radio, not knowing that those units have just been crushed to death by the building they were in. When you hear the firemen on the radio saying "We're trapped. We're trapped, I don't know where we are", it's gut wrenching. When you hear chaos, then silence over the radio, it's an eery feeling.
And what's worse is that you know what happens. You listen to the reports of the WTC collapsing on the radio recordings, and you hear units heading to the site, KNOWING that all hell is breaking loose, KNOWING that their friends and family are buried under tons of rubble, KNOWING that they might share the same fate, but they head out anyways, running into a hell that people are trying to escape.
Let's get one thing strait. September 11th isn't a scar for me. A scar indicates that the wound has healed over. This is still a gaping wound on my soul, still fresh and dripping blood. If you listen to these radio recordings, you'll hear firemen, trapped and calling for help. You'll hear dispatchers trying to find units that no longer exist. And if you have a soul, I dare you to listen and remain untouched. Try to listen to a Fire captain calling "10-4, I'm trapped, I don't know where" and not feel it in your heart. I dare you to listen as a police officer calls out the location of trapped officers, without feeling pain and rage.
This isn't some minor event that we should just "get over", as some of the Euro-weenies suggest. This was a direct assault on our country, by a group of men who want us all dead. And they're still out there, planning and plotting. They might be hiding, but they're still there. And I swear to god, I will go down firing before I ever have to listen to a police officer screaming for help over the radio again.