It's a familiar phrase heard at funeral ceremonies around the world, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." As I tried to clean the dust from my boots after my first day at "ground zero", I couldn't help but wonder at the contents of the ash like dust. It reminded me of the remains of the many veterans whose ashes I have scattered during burials at sea. Most of the victims of the World Trade Center tragedy would receive no such honors since they remain on the "missing" list. Such were my thoughts as I journeyed through one of the most challenging weeks of my career as a U.S. Navy chaplain.

On Sunday night, 16 September, I was called directly by the Chaplain Emergency Response Team, located at USCG Activities New York, notifying me that I was to report ASAP. I was assigned as a member of the team from 17 to 24 September, 2001. The call came without warning, and my initial response was one of surprise and some hesitation at the thought of working in what I knew would be a very traumatic situation. However, I felt it was an honor to be asked and I resolved myself to do whatever I could in support of the response team. Since the trip was unexpected, I had no goals other than to respond with compassion and to mentally prepare myself for the shock and loss of life. There was nothing that could have prepared me for what was to come.

I arrived at USCG Activities New York on Stanton Island Monday evening, 17 September, and found the Chapel and my team in the midst of their daily debriefing. The debriefing served as a good orientation. I spent all but two days at Ground Zero. Even visiting the temporary morgue, where the remains of victims were identified, was a break after three days at ground zero. Providing worship services for the Coast Guard cutters in New York harbor on Sunday was literally a breath of fresh air. After the initial shock of the devastation and grief, my heart was drawn to the heroic recovery workers who surrounded this tragic scene. The routine in this unusual daily commute was similar: 0800 Report to Cappadono Memorial Chapel to discuss plans with the other chaplains, pray and depart. The statue of Chaplain Cappadono praying for a dying marine outside the chapel seemed an appropriate reminder of our ministry.

0900 Ride the Stanton Island Ferry to Manhattan. Our respirators and uniforms stood out in the foot traffic that was beginning to trickle back into lower Manhattan.
0930 Visit USCG offices at Battery Park next to the ferry terminal. They had seen it all happen before there eyes. We listened to their stories in awe.
1000 Walk to World Trade Center and begin visitation. Splitting up to cover the perimeter of ground zero. Passing through checkpoints and entering into what seemed more like a Hollywood WWII movie set, and yet no movie could be so realistic.
1200 Regroup for lunch and compare notes and encourage one another.
1300 Agree on a place to meet and continue ministry for the afternoon
1500 Meet and walk back to Battery Park stopping occasionally to answer questions from concerned by-standers.
1600 Ride the ferry back to Stanton Island trying to process the grief of those we had counseled through out the day.
1730 Meet with the other chaplains for debriefing and ministering to one another.
2000 Hope to catch a late dinner and get some rest (this was usually the exception to the rule, because of unplanned evening requirements i.e. obtaining the proper ID tags from Office of Emergency Management at 2200 or risk not having access the following day).

Our ministry at ground zero varied from day to day. We visited anyone who was available and in need of assistance: NYPD, FDNY, Utilities workers, Search and Rescue teams, FBI, FEMA, and off course USCG Environmental Strike Team members, as well as USCG small boat and Harbor Defense crews taking breaks at the Cove Marina. There was never a lack of people who needed comfort and reassurance. The cross was always welcome and appreciated in times of both speech and times of silence when words were empty. Every person had a story to tell. One firefighter commented, "I lost my brother in those ashes Chaplain, could you say a blessing over that spot over there?" "I worked on the phone lines in all these buildings" a Verizon worker sighed. "Do you remember the NYPD badge the president held up in his address last night? He was my friend." A frustrated search and rescue worker asks, "Please pray for us chaplain, we can't get in to find our friends…we can't find our friends." Close by a search and rescue worker from a canine unit hides under a blanket allowing his dog to "rescue" a live victim. Even the dogs needed encouragement. I think it was important to give people someone to tell their stories to, so I listened and assured them they were appreciated and prayed for. Sometimes a worker would turn the tables on me. "How are you doing chaplain? It has to be hard caring for all these grieving people." I paused, should I be transparent? "I feel helpless, angry and appalled at such devastation and loss," I told them. "But I am humbled and encouraged by the teamwork and kindness that has blossomed from this tragedy." A light of recognition and agreement in their eyes, they nodded and shared their own feelings of helplessness, and loss.

I took some invaluable experience away with me at the end of my week in New York. I think one of the most important lessons I was reminded of in this situation is that self-care is vital to ongoing ministry. The nightly debriefings were very helpful and offered an opportunity for open communication for emotional and spiritual care, but I neglected my physical needs (i.e. eating, Physical Training etc.) I was also reminded that, as in all stressful situations, patience with myself and other team members goes a long way.

I gained a wealth of experience in learning about and working with the many state and federal agencies involved in this immense operation. Amidst this, the Coast Guard uniform was recognized and appreciated by both civilian and military personnel. Many expressed thanks to me for the security the cutters and small boats in the bay were providing. This thanks I passed on to those who really deserved it so that they could understand the significance of their service: a safe place for the grieving to mourn their loss, guarding a sanctuary of sorrow.

I never knew there were so many chaplains for so many different agencies. My appreciation for colleges in other uniforms and ministry settings grew daily. Yet my experience with my team members enforced my conviction that U.S. Coast Guard chaplains are some of the most highly qualified, professional chaplains available. We have become, unfortunately, too good at responding to critical incidents.

If I had a ream of paper, words could not express the depth of grief, loss, hope and admiration that I felt as I walked ash covered streets of lower Manhattan. The experience is not one I would have chosen, but one I will always treasure. It was truly an honor to stand with the brave people of New York City and our Coast Guard personnel serving them in these troubled times. As I rode the ferry after my last day in New York and watched the smoke filled skyline drift away, I cupped the secret treasure in my hand. Scattering the dust into the waters of the harbor, I whispered the familiar committal, "Now unto Almighty God we commend the souls of our dearly departed and commit their remains to the deep, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection unto eternal life, when the sea shall give up her dead, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen."