The horror of 9/11 lingers on the minds of many as they reflect on the sober 20th anniversary of the world-changing event, but for the mayor of Gander, Nfld., it also conjures memories of “love overcoming hatred.”
When the United States shut down its airspace after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, Gander opened its runway. Thirty-eight airplanes carrying more than 6,500 people landed, creating a logistical nightmare in the Newfoundland and Labrador municipality of just 9,600 people (in 2001).
Stranded passengers needed food, shelter, translators, clothing, and medicine, having only the clothes on their back and whatever filled their carry-on bags, remembers Mayor Percy Farwell, who served as deputy mayor at the time.
Farwell recalled that people arrived from 95 different countries – many of whom had no idea why they had been rerouted, or where Gander was located on a map.
Gander was one of multiple Canadian cities that welcomed diverted flights to their runways as part of Operation Yellow Ribbon. Upwards of 240 aircraft were rerouted to 17 airports across the country.
As the reality of the calamity set in – with some passengers praying for the safety of their loved ones in New York – the people of Gander and surrounding communities stepped up to help.
“Everybody volunteered their time, spare sheets, pillows, clothes and made food –whatever was required,” said Farwell. “They needed reassurance, compassion and love.”
The story of Gander inspired people from across the world and has since been adapted into the musical “Come From Away” and retold in several books.
Farwell said he continues to receive messages from young students in the US who are learning about that day.
The mayor added that he hopes others are able to take some comfort in those efforts, too. “Darkness,” he said, “is overcome by light, and we’ve been an example used for that.”
Friendships
In nearby Gambo, Nfld., every Friday evening Steve Badcock pours himself a drink and flips open his laptop to video chat with his close friend Steven O’Hehir, who arrived on a school bus along with close to a thousand passengers who couldn’t be accommodated in Gander.
This past Friday, after a few more failed attempts than usual due to dodgy Internet, O’Hehir suddenly filled the screen, beaming in from his home in Winchester, England, laughing and making wisecracks while proudly displaying his Newfoundland T-shirt.
The day 20 years ago that began with two hijacked planes flying into the World Trade Center in Manhattan caused “so much misery and so much sadness for so many people,” O’Hehir said. “It changed the world.”
But for O’Hehir, there’s something else. “To me, it means 20 years of friendship that just came out of the blue, that one never expected,” he said. “I found a family, I found a home, I found a place that absolutely touches you in the heart. It was just an amazing experience. It changed my life.”
Badcock, a senior architectural technologist with the Canadian Forces base at the Gander airport recalls watching in astonishment through his office window as the planes landed. “They just kept coming out of the sky, it was crazy,” he said. “To see so much international traffic… you knew it was something quite serious.”
Most of Gambo’s residents went immediately to work, setting up beds wherever they could fit and cooking huge pots of soups and stews to feed everyone.
“There are no hotels here,” resident Barbara Pritchett said. “They stayed at the Lions Club centre, they stayed in church halls, they stayed in the school gymnasium, they stayed in people’s houses… the shock they must have felt because they had no outside information. It took a long time to have telephones hooked up, it took a while to get televisions running.’
“When the ‘Come From Away’ musical came out, everyone realized that it was a spectacular thing that we did,” Pritchett added. “We just really didn’t kind of think that it was that spectacular at the time.”
Badcock, too, is nonchalant about his community’s massive efforts to care for hundreds of strangers. After he saw what had happened in New York City, he asked for a few days off so he could volunteer at the church in Gambo where about 120 people, including O’Hehir, were staying.
Badcock’s father was also helping out and happened to notice the book O’Hehir was reading. One chat led to another and suddenly O’Hehir and Steven Badcock were discussing the history of the First World War and O’Hehir’s recent trip to Beaumont Hamel, in France. “He just happened to be on the same cemetery that my great uncle was buried in,” Badcock said.
They’ve been close friends ever since. O’Hehir returned to Gambo in 2009 and they put 3,000 km on Badcock’s truck touring around the province. Since then, they’ve gone on regular trips together with their wives, Badcock said. Their next destination is Greece, as long as the COVID-19 pandemic allows it.
Reflections
Across the country, Mark Turik is another Canadian reflecting on the 20th anniversary of tragedy, which saw nearly 3,000 people die and 25,000 more injured.
The Calgary firefighter recalls standing at Ground Zero in January 2002 watching a group of police officers as they surrounded a body pulled from the rubble of the World Trade Centre. He was told the remains likely belonged to another police officer, based on the duty belt or gun.
Sifting through dozens of photos taken that month nearly two decades ago, Turik shared memories from his time in New York City four months after the attack, when firefighters were still searching for the remains of fallen colleagues and civilians unable to escape the wreckage. Nearby sat a box filled with newspapers, magazines, and video tapes.
“I hadn’t opened up that box of stuff in over 15 years. There are little pieces that you carry with you that you don’t think about,” said Turik, who is now deputy chief with the Calgary Fire Department.
Turik was one of hundreds of Canadian firefighters who went south following the tragedy. Local firefighters were adamant about recovering the bodies from the wreckage themselves, so many firefighters from abroad went on what Turik called a “mission of support.”
“All of them were obviously devastated by it. Every one of them knew somebody (who died), so you would just go down and talk to them and bring well wishes,” said Turik.
He and five others from Calgary’s heavy rescue team spent about a week trying to come to grips with what happened while comforting their American colleagues as best they could.
For 20 years, 9/11 has served as a sober reminder for Turik. One photo taken by his team showed a sign in a New York fire station that read: “Let no man’s ghost come back to say ‘my training let me down.”’