9/11 Hustlin' Up Stragglers

A couple weeks after 9/11 I was in the hospital waiting room. The television was droning something that someone else was watching; when Robin Williams came on with one of those short commemorations to the heroes of 9/11. I glanced at the screen and saw . . .




. . . Major Rescorla was the squadron executive officer of our reserve unit.


Something of a legend, he had served in three armies, in Viet Nam a hero of the battle of Ia Drang, a Silver Star, Bronze Star with Oak leaf Cluster and “V”, Purple Heart, and too much else to count. At first glance a snake eater, but when you talked to him you realized the tough exterior hid a deep intellect and compassion.




Loud, larger than life, and full of fun, he could take the joke as well as give it out. As he was walking back to our area one day the Sergeants decided to from a “chain.” They walked past him with just enough interval that he had to return thirty some hand salutes one at a time. He was laughing out loud by the end of the chain.

As XO, he was the chief of staff, a staff that didn’t call attention to itself, but plans worked and soldiers were supported. And always, more than most any officer I ever met, he would always make the extra effort to take care of his soldiers. To the point of making a trip to Division HQ to get a privates records straightened out.

When we had Squadron runs he would finish close behind the nineteen year olds, and without missing a step turn around go to the rear, set a pace and hustle up the stragglers.

He had the stereotypical command voice of a British Regimental Sergeant Major. A little less effective when we realized his bark was worse than his bite. One summer camp the officers were put in the Hospital area for quarters. The lieutenants and captains in one wing and the Major and Colonel in the next, they wanted some quiet. However it turned out the next wing over housed the enlisted soldiers of the hospital. And inclined to spend all night partying on the lawn between the wings. Until one night about 0100 hours Major Rescorla stood on the porch in his skivvies and with that command voice put them to bed.

He was promoted and took command of another squadron and then moved to New York for his civilian job..


When the planes hit, the evacuation plan was sound and rehearsed. He took 2500 people out of the building on the sound of that voice. When informed some his people were still in the building he went back to hustle them out. Last seen going up.





. . . And as Robin went off and the TV returned to the regularly scheduled commercials I was thinking. . .

“Husslin’ up stragglers, couldn’t do any thing else!”


Richard C Rescorla, Colonel, Infantry, USAR, Retired.
Grant him Eternal Rest Lord - and let Your Eternal Light shine upon him.

Nine Eleven - Ten Years Ago

Tuesday morning ten years ago started off well. I called our office in Flint Michigan to help the manager fix what was a non-problem on his computer. As we were talking he was handed a note that a Boeing 737 had hit the World Trade Center. A few seconds later the TV’s came on with CNN and a few seconds later CNN interrupted programming for breaking news. The day got worse quickly.


Three more air planes taken , two of them hitting occupied buildings. The third crashing as the passengers try to take it back. Over 4000 dead. I never thought I would see the day when the Day Care Center would be moved out of the building because we do just enough business with the Defense Department to be military target. The news later reported a shoot down order was issued but the fighters could not take off and get in place fast enough.





Being sent home for two days as non-essential in an emergency does nothing for ones ego. I left work while two of the planes and maybe more were still in the air the radio in the car broadcasting rumors of car bombs, and went to church to pray them home. When I saw the President on TV that night I knew we would be called back the next morning. Looking at the TV I thought “That boy is going to lead us?” All thing considered he could have done much worse.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


When Flight 11 turned off it’s transponder, did not answer the radio, and turned towards New York, the air traffic controllers at New York Center assumed it was a mechanical problem and the crew was trying to get Kennedy International with the best recovery resources. They moved every thing out of the way so the there would be a clear path to New York. Doing the job right, and it was so wrong.

Controlled Flight Into Buildings

Tuesday morning six years ago started off well. I called our office in Flint MI* to help the manager fix his computer since he was back from vacation. One of his employees had already fixed it. Someone handed him a note that a Boeing 737 had hit the World Trade Center. The day got worse quickly.

I never thought I would see the day when the Day Care Center would be moved out of the building because we do just enough business with the Defense Department to be military target.

Or armed Combat Air Patrols flying over the US for the first time since the end of the cold war.

I read of the air traffic controllers, who when Flight 11 turned off it’s transponder and turned towards New York; they assumed it was a mechanical problem and it was flying to Kennedy for the best recovery resources. They moved every thing out of the way so the there would be a clear path to New York. Doing the job right, and it was so wrong.

Of course, Major Rescorla went back in looking for stragglers.


Pray for them all.



*Michael Moore claims to be from Flint. I figure it is all his fault. That's as logical as anything he ever said.
The photo is of the Sheboygan Wisconsin War Memorial.

Nine Eleven -- A Memorial

A couple weeks after 9/11 I was in the hospital waiting room. The television was droning something that someone else was watching; when Robin Williams came on with one of those short commemorations to the heroes of 9/11. I glanced at the screen and saw . . .

. . . Major Rescorla was the squadron executive officer of our reserve unit.

Something of a legend, he had served in three armies,
with a Silver Star, Bronze Stars with “V”s, Purple Hearts,
and too much else to count. At first glance a snake eater,
but when you talked to him you realized the tough
exterior hid a deep intellect and compassion.

Loud, larger than life, and full of fun,
he could take the joke as well as give it out.
As he was walking back to our area one day the
Sergeants decided to from a “chain.” They walked
past him with just enough interval that he had
to return thirty some hand salutes one at a time.
He was laughing out loud by the end of the chain.

As XO, he was the chief of staff, a staff that didn’t
call attention to itself, but plans worked and soldiers
were supported. And always, more than most any officer
I ever met, he would always make the extra effort
to take care of his soldiers. To the point of making
a trip to Division HQ to get a privates records
straightened out.

When we had Squadron runs he would finish close behind
the nineteen year olds, and without missing a step turn
around go to the rear, set a pace and hustle up the stragglers.

He had the stereotypical command voice of a British
Regimental Sergeant Major. A little less effective
when we realized his bark was worse than his bite.
One summer camp the officers were put in the Hospital
area for quarters. The lieutenants and captains in
one wing and the Major and Colonel in the next, they
wanted some quiet. However it turned out the next wing
over housed the enlisted soldiers of the hospital.
And inclined to spend all night partying on the lawn
between the wings. Until one night about 0100 hours
Major Rescorla stood on the porch in his skivvies
and with that command voice put them to bed.

He was promoted and took command of another
squadron and then moved to New York for
his civilian job.


When the planes hit, the evacuation plan was sound
and rehearsed. He took 2500 people out of the building
on the sound of that voice. When informed some his
people were still in the building he went back
to get them. Last seen going up.

. . . And as Robin went off and the TV returned to the regularly scheduled commercials I was thinking. . .

“Husslin’ up stragglers, couldn’t do any thing else!”

Richard C Rescorla, Colonel, Infantry, USAR, Retired.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.