Some firefighters were sitting around at the 2005 World Police and Fire Games in Quebec City as Louie Cacchioli held court talking about how he survived 9/11. One young pup of a firefighter asked Cacchioli how the World Trade Centre tragedy had affected his life.
“It screwed up my life,” Cacchioli replied.
• • • • •
Cacchioli is on the executive of the 2011 WPFG in New York which will be held to honour the 10th anniversary of 9/11. He’s in town for the 2009 Games to register participants for two years from now, to support FDNY teams, to represent the 343 fellow firefighters lost in 9/11 and to soak in the firehall-type camaraderie that he doesn’t get on a daily basis.
Sept. 11, 2001 was his last day on the job.
Cacchioli’s family immigrated from Italy to Queens, N.Y., when he was 10. He went on to graduate from the fire academy in April 1982, after which he was assigned to Engine Company 47 in Harlem. Nearly two decades later he was still at Engine 47 when they were dispatched to the south tower.
When they got there they found around 10 or more people who had jumped from the towers lying dead on the ground. It was so chaotic they were forced to take cover in the nearby Marriott Hotel.
Chief Thomas Glavin directed Engine 47 and three other companies to go to the 44th floor of the north tower and start bringing people down because it was no longer a matter of putting a fire out, it had become a massive rescue operation.
He got on an elevator to the 24th floor with partner Thomas Hetzel of the 13th Truck and his company. The plan was for Cacchioli to take the elevator back down to get his company, but as the 13th Truck emptied out he said to Hetzel, “Where are you going, Tommy?”
“I’m going with them, Louie.”
“No you’re not,” said Cacchioli. “I don’t have any tools if I get stuck in the elevator.”
“I’ll stay with you,” promised Hetzel.
As soon as the door closed there was a huge explosion. What they didn’t know was the big boom was caused by the other tower collapsing. What they did know was the power to the elevator had been knocked out.
They managed to wrench the elevator doors open and headed for the nearest staircase. It was clogged with firefighters and civilians. He couldn’t move and couldn’t find Tommy, so Cacchioli exited at the 23rd floor.
• • • • •
Cacchioli never saw Tommy again. These days he wears a simple metal bracelet with Thomas Hetzel and 09/11/01 on it.
“I don’t leave the house without this,” says Cacchioli as he watches the FDNY soccer team play a Vancouver Firefighters side at Burnaby Lake Sports Complex West. “I forgot to put it on one morning, and I drove right back home and put this on. I feel like this is my guardian angel. If I leave without it I feel like something’s going to happen to me.”
• • • • •
|
Since
losing so many of his colleagues
in the New York City fire and
police departments in the 9/11
terrorist attacks on the World
Trade Center, Louie Cacchioli
says it’s important to rebuild
the camaraderie of the firehall
by supporting each other in
endeavours like the World Police
and Fire Games. |
About 40 to 50 people were in the 23rd floor’s lobby area confused about what to do. Cacchioli found another staircase that was less crowded. One problem, it was pitch black, but Cacchioli gathered the group up anyway and led them down the darkened staircase.
Finally, they reached the bottom. Safety, as well as light, was in sight. But the door was jammed. No matter what Cacchioli did, it wouldn’t open. Some of the civilians came to his aid and finally the door relented.
When he was outside, Cacchioli caught up to “my chauffeur,” a firefighter who drives the truck. As they were talking they turned around and realized the antennae of the tower they’d just come out of was disappearing. The “chauffeur” ran toward the Hudson River. Cacchioli hightailed north between two fire trucks.
He ran as hard as he could. But it wasn’t enough. So he started divesting himself of equipment that might weigh him down. He even threw his mask away to make himself lighter.
Not a good move.
Soon, Cacchioli felt like he was running through sawdust. He couldn’t see. Or breathe. He began to feel light-headed and thought he was about to pass out. Firefighters are taught if that’s the case then they should hit the ground, so he did.
As he crawled around he was crying, thinking of his family. Miraculously he came across a mask abandoned by another firefighter. Another 15 seconds, he figures, and he wouldn’t have made it. He put it to his face hearing all kinds of noises. It bought him a tiny bit of time, a precious commodity in such a dire situation. He eventually passed out. When he woke up he was on the side of the road with paramedics working on him.
• • • • •
Five times something happened that meant life instead of death for Cacchioli—Engine 47 getting sidetracked to the north tower, switching stairwells, getting the jammed door open, choosing to run north instead of toward the Hudson River (the chauffeur didn’t survive), and finding a mask while on his hands and knees.
Those moments saved his life, but they also haunted him.
For the next few days Cacchioli was in denial. He kept going down to Ground Zero looking for survivors, only going home to catch a couple hours sleep at a time. But all they found was body parts. Eventually he realized “my brothers aren’t coming back.”
He had a problem with surviving. A big problem.
“I didn’t want to live. I had road rage. I was a bitter man. I was a nasty person. I was a whole different person,” says Cacchioli.
A few months later, Cacchioli went to the doctor who told him the lung and heart damage he’d suffered meant he could never be a full-duty firefighter again.
“I felt like my legs were taken out from under me. I couldn’t even find my way home. I lived about 30 minutes away, and I got off at the wrong exit. I was a (expletive deleted) mess,” says Cacchioli, wearing an Engine 47 shirt.
“I lost my buddies, I lost my job, I lost my health. It came to the point I didn’t want to live no more.”
• • • • •
Although he won’t go into details, 9/11 affected his family almost as much as him. He and his wife of 34 years have three children, two granddaughters and a brand-new grandson. He starts to choke up when he’s asked about them.
“That’s a whole different chapter. What happens with firefighters is we forget about our family. We worry about everybody else, but we don’t take care of home sometimes. I put them through some tough times by not listening to them.”
At first, Cacchioli was too macho to believe counseling would work.
“I thought I knew everything before 9/11 working in Harlem. But 9/11 was a whole different experience.”
After going through at least six counselors he went to one that hit him with “I know what you’re thinking. How could your family do this to you?”
“He woke me up,” says Cacchioli. “You have to go for counselling. But the thing is you have to find the right person to make the connection.”
Now he’s a big booster of counseling for firefighters, or anyone, going through something traumatic. He tells firefighters to talk to somebody when they’re going through a difficult time. Prior to 9/11 he lost two buddies, including one he grew up with, who killed themselves because they were going through a divorce. He believes they would have benefited from counseling, too.
Along with being a tour guide at Ground Zero and giving talks about his experiences, every Tuesday he goes to a survivor’s group meeting.
“It’s like being in a kitchen in the firehouse. We’re talking about everything and it’s great.”
After 9/11 Cacchioli constantly asked himself, “Why did God save me? What did I do? Why do I deserve to be here?”
He’s asking these questions less now. He wants to be alive because people tell him God saved him for a reason; to help people out and be there for his family.
“I would have missed a whole lot if I decided to ... “ says Cacchioli as his voice trails off. “Am I still suffering? Yeah, I’m still suffering. Are there people out there worse than me? One hundred per cent. But I bless every day that comes now. I want to live and I want to make a difference.”
Cacchioli, 59, participated in basketball in the last two WPFGs, but a bum knee prevented him from playing this year. He plans, however, to participate in the over-60 category in 2011 though. The Games help him heal and give him a platform to help other emergency personnel.
“These are the fantastic times, coming out here meeting wonderful people. I’ve got lifetime friends here now.”
• • • • •
A lot happened to Cacchioli in the four years between 9/11 and when a young firefighter in Quebec City asked him how the event changed his life. But a lot has happened in the last four years, too.
Today, the answer would be different from 2005.
“My life has changed dramatically,” says Cacchioli. “I don’t know if I’d used the word screwed up any more. But, you know what, I’m dealing with it a lot better. It definitely screwed up my life, but it’s getting a lot better.”
A story of an angel
Louie Cacchioli was having dinner after spending the day signing up registrants for the 2011 World Police and Fire Games in New York when someone said, “I know who you are.”
Cacchioli, a retired New York firefighter and survivor of 9/11 in town for the 2009 WPFG as a member of the 2011 Games executive board, turned around to see who it was.
“I met you in Adelaide (at the 2007 WPFG),” said the man.
“Nice to see you again,” replied Cacchioli.
“I was really touched by your story,” the man said.
The man was from Kentucky and after some chit-chat he told Cacchioli he wanted to give him something because the FDNY hero had given him something two years ago, likely a pin or a bracelet. Cacchioli figured he’d be getting a pin in return.
The Kentuckian pulled something out of his pocket. It was a little egg-shaped transparent bauble with an angel in it.
“I carry this with me every day and I want to give it to you.”
“You carry this with you all the time? I can’t take this.”
But the man insisted.
“I had to take it, I felt bad. I was really touched by it,” said Cacchioli this week as he pulled it out of his pocket where it remained during the Games as Cacchioli went from event to event.
“It just goes to show you the people there are in this world.”
ggranger@burnabynewsleader.com
The 'new normal' in a post-9/11 world
As chaplain for the Fire Department of New York, Rev. Msgr. John Delendick is required to respond to pages for three-alarm fires or more. When his pager went off on Sept. 11, 2001 it was for a disaster that was immediately five alarms for each side of the building.
In the aftermath, he went to countless funerals and memorial services. He was at the beginning of almost every survivor support group set up by FDNY members.
“It used to be before 9/11 people asked how you were you could say, ‘I’m OK, I’m normal.’ Well, what does that mean? Afterward you’re living your life but it’s a new normal,” says Delendick in between lending his support to the FDNY soccer and ice hockey teams. “For example my new normal, underneath my normal look is a layer of sadness and certain things and certain memories trigger that layer.
“That’s my new way of being normal, and you learn to live with it because you know you’re not going to get rid of it. This is the way I am.”
ggranger@burnabynewsleader.com
