Decision Points

and today we express our nation’s sorrow. We come before God to pray for the missing and the dead, and for those who love them. … To the children and parents and spouses and families and friends of the lost, we offer the deepest sympathy of the nation. And I assure you, you are not alone.”
    I scanned the crowd. Three soldiers sitting to my right had tears cascading down their faces. So did my lead advance woman, Charity Wallace . I was determined not to fall prey to the contagion of crying. There was one place I dared not look: the pew where Mother, Dad, and Laura were seated. I continued:
    Just three days removed from these events, Americans do not yet have the distance of history. But our responsibility to history is already clear: to answer these attacks and rid the world of evil. War has been waged against us by stealth and deceit and murder. This nation is peaceful, but fierce when stirred to anger. This conflict was begun on the timing and terms of others. It will end in a way, and at an hour, of our choosing.…
    God’s signs are not always the ones we look for. We learn in tragedy that His purposes are not always our own. Yet the prayers of private suffering, whether in our homes or in this great cathedral, are known and heard, and understood. … This world He created is of moral design. Grief and tragedy and hatred are only for a time. Goodness, remembrance, and love have no end. And the Lord of life holds all who die, and all who mourn.
    As I took my seat next to Laura, Dad reached over and gently squeezed my arm. Some have said the moment marked a symbolic passing of the torch from one generation to another. I saw it as the reassuring touch of a father who knew the challenges of war. I drew strength from his example and his love. I needed that strength for the next stage of the journey: the visit to the point of attack, lower Manhattan.

    The flight north was quiet. I had asked Kirbyjon Caldwell to make the trip with me. I had seen the footage of New York on television, and I knew the devastation was overwhelming. It was comforting to have a friend and a man of faith by my side.
    Governor Pataki and Mayor Giuliani greeted me at McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. They looked spent. The governor had been working tirelessly since Tuesday morning, allocating state resources and rallying the troops under his command. And rarely had a man met his moment in history more naturally than Rudy Giuliani did on September 11. He was defiant at the right times, sorrowful at the right times, and in command the entire time.

    Huddling with Rudy Giuliani (
left
) and George Pataki at McGuire Air Force Base.
White House/Paul Morse
    I boarded the chopper with George and Rudy. On the flight into the city, the Marine pilots flew over Ground Zero. My mind went back to the helicopter flight on the evening of September 11. The Pentagon had been wounded, but not destroyed. That was not the case with the Twin Towers. They were gone. There was nothing left but a pile of rubble. The devastation was shocking and total.
    The view from the air was nothing compared to what I saw on the ground. George, Rudy, and I piled into a Suburban. We had just started the drive to the disaster site when something on the side of the road caught my eye. It appeared to be a lumbering gray mass. I took a second look. It was a group of first responders covered head to toe in ash.
    I asked the driver to stop. I walked over, started shaking hands, and thanked the men for all they had done. They had been working nonstop. Several had tears running down their faces, cutting a path through the soot like rivulets through a desert. The emotion of the encounter was a harbinger of what was to come.
    As we approached Ground Zero, I felt like I was entering a nightmare. There was little light. Smoke hung in the air and mixed with suspended particles of debris, creating an eerie gray curtain. We sloshed through puddles left behind by the morning rain and the water used to fight the fires. There was some chatter from the local officials. “Here is where the old headquarters stood. … There is where the unit regrouped.” I tried to listen, but my mind kept returning to the devastation, and to those who ordered the attacks. They had hit us even harder than I had comprehended.
    We had been walking for a few minutes when George and Rudy led us down into a pit where rescue workers were digging through the rubble for survivors. If the rest of the site was