Dan is a strategic communicator. He is a writer. His expertise is born from experience, to include his role at the Pentagon upon the attacks of 9/11. Presently, Dan is the Owner and Principal at Stoneking Strategic Communications, LLC as well as the Founder and Vice President of the Emergency Management External Affairs Association, and an Adjunct Professor for Public Speaking at West Chester University. Previously, Dan served as the External Affairs Director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) Region 3, where he led an award-earning passionate team to improve information sharing and coordination between FEMA and the American public. That position followed and built upon a career in both the corporate and government arenas focused on strategic and crisis communications, to include roles at FEMA Headquarters as Director, Private Sector and Deputy and Acting Director of Public Affairs. Dan is a retired Army Officer and he taught High School English for two years.
I am a proud dad to two daughters, 12 and 13 years-old. The attacks of 9/11 occurred before they were born. They have no memories. They do, however, have memories and experiences of active-shooter drills in their classrooms. As they study government in history class, they will learn that one of the Cabinets is the Department of Homeland Security. Should they ever attend a National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony, or visit the White House or Capitol, they will see a level of security that their parents and grandparents once did not observe. The same is true for local and state government facilities.
But what they will likely always have trouble with is the ability to connect the dots and provide context to how the world changed. It is not their fault. It is the responsibility of those of us who witnessed history, to not only pass down what happened, but also share lessons we can learn from Sep 11, 2001.
Sacrifice. Solemn, tragic, and undeniable lessons are the many lives sacrificed that day and since. On that fateful day, 2,977 innocent victims perished. Thousand upon thousands more Americans have died since in the war on Terrorism, which continues to this day.
Patriotism. In the days and weeks that followed the attacks on our nation, patriotism soared. Flags were raised and could be seen on vehicles, t-shirts, store windows. Unfortunately, just as quickly as those images blossomed, they faded away. As students recite the Pledge of Allegiance today, they have an opportunity to reflect on that period in our history as they breathe life into the words, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
Unity. We are the United States. We did unite that day in the face of evil and terrorism. We are stronger together than divided. It is a lesson and a reminder that should we face a similar threat again in our future, we can stand tall, strong, and proud, knowing we can face it and defeat it, together. United.
Framework. Understanding the events of 9/11, as well as our nation’s response to it, gives the next generation a framework, the context, to understand what has been done to secure the homeland, and what still must be done.
Preparedness. On September 10, 2001, we were unprepared for the following day. That is why we know better today. It is why we must prepare ourselves, our family, our community, and our country from all future threats. It is a constant lesson and reminder to be vigilant.
Everyone American you meet, who was alive and old enough to remember, has a story. A story that has shaped them and instilled lessons learned. I was a soldier on 9/11. Upon retiring, I was inspired to become an emergency manager, to help protect the country I love. Here is my story from that day –
The Pentagon
Autumn arrived quickly, and I was glad. Having arrived at my new job in the Pentagon on July 23rd, I had told my friends that I couldn’t wait until the end of September, when, after sixty days of experience, I would have a better handle on how to be an effective Pentagon Spokesman. Here I was, ahead of schedule, shy of the sixty days, and doing well. I had already survived briefings and queries on the forest fires out West and a tragic plane crash that took the lives of 21 National Guard members. I knew my job and I felt comfortable.
That Tuesday began quietly enough. We had a regular briefing scheduled like we did every Tuesday and Thursday. My only responsibility of the day was to escort some officers of the Naval Reserve to watch our daily Press Briefing as part of their professional development. At about 8:30 a.m., I sent an email reminder to my Naval Reserve counterpart letting him know where and when I would meet the group. The TV on my desk was turned on to CNN, but muted, so I could concentrate on my emails. I yawned as I began reading our manual for duty officer procedures and tried to keep my mind from drifting off into thoughts of a scenic run along the Potomac.
“Holy S#@$,” I heard one of my co-workers shout from across the Press Room.
“Channel two,” another co-worker barked. It was not uncommon for us to yell out to each other and draw attention to media reports, but their intensity was disarming. I turned toward my TV and raised the volume. It was 8:46 a.m.
I watched a dark flume of smoke bellowing out of some of the higher floors of one of the World Trade Center buildings. As my colleagues conjectured on the cause, I grabbed the phone and called the Command Center for a Situation Report (SITREP). One of my responsibilities was to be the Pentagon Spokesman for Disasters. This was clearly going to be in my lane. The Command Center indicated that they were faxing me the SITREP and before I could get out of my seat, Pentagon Correspondents were at my desk asking for an explanation of the event and the phone started ringing.
I gave them a preliminary briefing, checked on the fax, which had not arrived yet, and began a log of events. As I continued to answer questions, while watching the TV, I picked up the phone to call the Command Center. “Where’s that fax,” I pressed them, “I need it two minutes ago—
“Holy F#@*,” someone screamed. I turned to the TV and watched United Airlines Flight 175 crash into the second World Trade Center building. It was 9:02 a.m. Truly a moment frozen in time, so many things became instantly clear. We were being attacked. The United States of America was being attacked. We were at War. The world had changed. The first building was not an accident. There could be more. Everyone started moving. I kept the Command Center on the line as they continued to update me. Somebody was calling the Joint Chief’s of Staff office. Somebody else called the Army; and someone else, the Air Force; and still another called the New York National Guard. Every phone was either ringing or being used to call out. Everyone was talking at once. People were flipping channels, looking at different angles, trying to make sense of what had happened.
“Sir, we can’t seem to get the SITREP fax to go through, and we have another classified update you need to see” the command center, still glued to my left ear, drew me away from the TV reports.
“I can’t wait any longer,” I responded. “I’m coming to you.” I told my co-workers where I was going, and I headed for the door.
“What if they hit the Pentagon,” I heard someone ask, over my shoulder, as I cleared the doorway and headed down the hallway.
“People can be so paranoid,” I thought as I paced quickly down the corridor. My office was in the outer E-Ring at the end of the seventh corridor. I was heading toward an office between the 5th and 6th Corridors, still on the E-Ring. Still heading west, I was almost at my destination when I heard a loud explosion, felt the floor bounce, and saw dark smoke emanating toward me. People flew out of every door along the hallway, almost simultaneously, and started running. I would have described it as cartoonish, if it were not real. It was 9:37 a.m.
There was no doubt in my mind what had occurred. I knew immediately and did an about-face to return to my office to get my marching orders. On the way back, I realized by the frenzied remarks, that most people had no idea what had happened. Not many offices have TV’s on their desks. Halfway back to my office, the sirens went off and the loudspeakers directed everyone to exit the building. I ignored the directive and continued on. I arrived back at the Press Office minutes later to discover everyone had gone. I returned to the hallway and followed the cattle-like movement toward the exit.
Most people were surprisingly calm. Certainly, many of them had no idea what had happened. Those on the far side of the building may not have even heard the impact. But as we made our way slowly, occasionally I would hear someone crying or other frantic exclamations. As we rounded a corner and passed the courtyard, everyone could see and smell the smoke again. For those who were not previously aware, the fervor and urgency increased. As we finally approached the exits, the lines split in two and many left our line for the smaller one. I remained in my line. Not out of any bravado or false bravery. Actually, I was thinking about my nightly commute, and how every time I switched lanes, that lane would slow down. The thought almost made me laugh.
Then I looked up at a clock on the wall. It was 9:50 a.m. I knew what many around me did not know. I knew that the two Trade Centers were hit somewhere between 14 and 18 minutes apart. At this point, the plane had struck the Pentagon 13 minutes earlier and there were several hundred people between the door and me. Would there be another? I felt eerily resigned to my fate as I took small steps and tried to smile reassuringly to the worried faces around me.
A few minutes past ten o’clock, I was joining thousands of others in the sunshine of the parking lot. Dark smoke filtered into the sky from what used to be the fifth corridor. Sirens blared. Some people scurried. Others dialed away furiously on cell phones that weren’t working. Federal buildings all throughout Crystal City and Pentagon City were being evacuated. The streets were at a stand-still with vehicles and pedestrians.
I gave my business card to a co-worker I had found. I told him I was going to the National Guard Bureau office in Crystal City and would set up temporary operations there. I wrote the number on the back of my card and headed out of the parking lot, on my way. With over 40,000 people scrambling around and at least a half dozen paths between our buildings I chose a path and began weaving through the crowd. As I walked, I dialed away at my cell phone as well. After repeated tries I finally got through to my son. “I’m okay,” I told him.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” he mumbled back from a sleepy haze. I forgot that he had worked the night shift.
“Turn on the television,” I said. I will call you again as soon as I can.
The next few hours, days and weeks became a fog. I worked the first-forty hours straight. My co-workers began shift work at a gas station in close proximity to the still-smoking and smoldering Pentagon. They had one telephone and no automation. I provided the fax, computer, and internet link from my location to internal and external audiences. Once my colleagues were able to set up full operations again inside the Pentagon, I took a few hours off and went home to sleep. There were 27 messages on my answering machine when I finally got there.