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WEDNESDAY. SEPTEMBER 19,,2QQ1

ATTACK ON AMERICA

Sonya Houston, describing her 4-year-old son Hasanl's drawing of the tragedy

"This is the tower here and this is the plane. Over here are the flames, and his daddy is there in the corner. See? The flames don't touch him." '

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THE VICTIMS

Three police officers meet different fates By DOUGLASS GROUSE SUflfMW

For a brief moment amid the modnew of smoke and icreami Sept 11, three Port Authority patrolmen paused in a basement plaza of the World Trade Center and greeted each other as brothers. He encounter was warm but'hurried. The three men — Robert Vargas and Uhuru Houston of Englewood, and Edward Finnegan of Staten Island — stood for a minute at the ey» of a gathering storm such as the city and nation had never before seen. • For Vargas and Finnegan, it was their first meeting in four yean. In just a half-hour, wounded and staggering afar,toe fint tower fell and the world grew dark, they would meet again. But Houston, a gentle protector hi* family calls "Bee," would not b e to hicky.., • - . - • . Af8:60 tin. Sept. 11,. Vargas was making patrol rounds in Weehawken when the radio crackled. His aupervi' tor's words ripped through the mom; ing r^lni: "A plane just hit the World Trade Center, Bobby. Get aa many of the

One rushes to the rescue, but is never seen again guy> together as you can and get run up into one of the towers. That was the last time I saw him." down there." Aware of the taH task they faced, Blood pumping, Vargaa gathered 15 men. After 15 minutes of navigat- Finnegan set off in one direction and. ing side streetk, the teams pulled up Vargaa in another. An inspector directed Vargas to in front of One World Trade Center, gazed upward, and saw black smoke the sub-concourse level, near a line of pouring from it and the second tower, retail stores and the entrance to the which had been hit while they were PATH trains. People dashed or lumbered by each en route. Working in plainclothes, Finnegan officer — some with burnt hair, or and Houston had just nabbed a man cuts and scrapes, or skin pulling away for petty theft when the fint plane from their bodies. Vargas braced struck. They spotted Vargaa while di- himself against the shock of what he recting pedestrians and jogged over was seeing. . ' Half an hour later, he was still on to greet Mn>; Vargaa had known Houston for seven yean, but had the sub-concourse level under Two World Trade Center when it began to long been out of touch with FinnefaH gan. . • • "I heard a blast and felt this wind. I "He said. How ya doiri', B.V.T" Vargas said of Houston. "We shook- saw six or seven firemen to my right hands first, then he gave me a hug. and saw the wind and debris send That was his way. He would always' them flying like rag dolls." greet you; by hugging you. Then he • Running, he turned a comer and said, *Hey man, I'm off and running.' felt a rush from behind that sent him 1 stood there and watched him flying — fint' through the air, then

skimming along on his belly. He could feel the debris pelt his back, his legs, his arms, the sides of his face. His mouth and eye* filled with chalky dust. For a time, he lay bleeding on the ground. When Vargas opened his eyes, he told himself. Tm alive." All was darkness. His eyes burned. Closing them tight, he held his arms out and stepped forward. Debris reached his waist A thought invaded Vargas' mind: In the 1993 bombing, of the World Trade Center, he recalled how'the parking deck blast had punched holes In the building platform above. , "I could step .in a hole and fall to my death," he thought But what choice was there but to keep walking? Vargaa was choking on dust when he glimpsed a tiny point of light "Is someone there?"'he said. "Bobby, is that you?" It was Finnegan. . "Yeah, Eddie, It's me." "Bobby, just keep walking toward the light" Vargas obeyed and stumbled into Finnegan and another cop who walked along with him. The three men hugged, even as they realized

they had no idea where they were. Finnegan had a large gash on his arm and had tied pantyhose around It as a makeshift tourniquet The men held onto each othen' shirts and began moving. Sweeping the darkness with their Maglite, they sought the names of familiar stores. Eventually they came across Coach and from there, they knew the way. Lest Wednesday, Vargas called his buddy Houston. His wife, Sonya, picked up. "We haven't heard from him," she said. "Where was he? What direction did he go in? What did he say?" For an instant, Vargas was confused. He had a different picture in his mind when he and Uhuru Houston embraced so s«emingly long ago. ROBERT VARGAS In it, he taw two pals getting together "I'm JuM » survivor" over been to discuss one of the bigTogether, they confront a new world: gest days of their lives. In the 80 yean prior to Sept 11, '1 just figured, "Well, well see each other agate when nil of this is over,'" the Port Authority lost seven officers Vargas said, nibbing the wounds on in the line of duty, according to the his arm. "I thought "Well be able to .department yearbook. In one day Isst week, they lost 35. catch up then."' "My brothers that died, those ire Vargas and'-Finnegan have spoken seven, eight, maybe nine times since the true heroes," Vargas said. "Tin they found each other in the dark. just a survivor with a tale to tell"