In 2001, I was a major serving at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, on an exchange assignment to the U.S. Marine Corps. On that fateful morning, I had just completed morning PT and hygiene, and was in my office preparing to suck down some chow. I then received a call from a fellow operations staffer at the Marine Forces Atlantic (MARFORLANT) headquarters in Virginia. I was admonished to get to a television set.
I rushed down to our current operations area just in time to see the second plane hit.
I knew on that day we would be called upon by our country to avenge this attack — the Pearl Harbor of our time.
That night, when I finally got back to my quarters, I gazed into the heavens. For the first time ever … I heard nothing. I saw no airplane lights. It was an eerie feeling.