Silence Amid Tears; Ceremony honors those lost as recovery at WTC site ends

A solemn procession punctuated by tears, the tolling of bells and muted applause rose out of Ground Zero and up into the sunny streets of lower Manhattan yester-day on a morning as bright as the September day terror shattered the city.

At 11:25 a.m., a message to the city's uniformed services called an end to the search for remains after eight months and 19 days, though work will continue at the Fresh Kills landfill in Staten Island and at the medical examiner's office.

The ceremony honoring the dead and marking the official end of recovery efforts began at 10:29 a.m., when Firefighter James Sorokac sounded five bells in four intervals, the department's signal that a firefighter has been killed. But families who lost loved ones Sept. 11 began to arrive before 7:30.

Sorokac arrived two hours early for the ceremony, polishing the bell and the shield on his cap with a white towel. Pulling the string, he thought of "the 47 friends that I knew on a first-name basis" who died. The 2,823 people killed at the World Trade Center included 343 firefighters, 37 Port Authority police offi-cers and 23 NYPD officers.

The procession out of the pit included an ambulance carrying an empty, flag-draped rescue basket and a flatbed truck hauling the last surviving beam from the south tower, a column draped in the style of a coffin and bearing a flag and flowers.

With the faintest smell of dust from the collapse of the Twin Towers lingering, the 1.1 miles from the lip of the ramp out of the site to the intersection of Canal and West Streets gave the 14-member honor guard plenty of time for reflection.

Carrying the rescue or Stokes basket - symbolizing all those who have not been found - to the ambulance and then escorting it north, Joseph Pfeifer, an FDNY battalion chief, and Charles Wells, a deputy Emergency Medical Service chief, thought of the brothers they lost.

"That day I carried out my brother Kevin, who was a lieutenant in Engine 37, and carrying that Stokes basket today, I had the same feeling," said Pfeifer, the first commander to reach the towers Sept. 11.

Wells lost his brother, FDNY Lt. Robert Regan of Ladder 118, who was searching the Tall Ships bar and then the lobby of a hotel when the South Tower came down.

"I walked over to where they found Bobby, and I started thinking about all we lost, [paramedics] Ricky Quinn and Carlos Lillo, [FDNY chief] Peter Ganci," he said. "And their faces started popping up in front of me, and I felt, not sad-ness or grief, but almost elation. It felt good to be down there."

The streets were about as quiet as downtown gets on a weekday morning. After the bells sounded, all that could be heard were the hum of generators, the rap of snare drums, the whine of bagpipes and the nervous shuffle of onlookers who wiped away tears.

Ranks of emergency services officers, firefighters and the flatbed truck trailed the ambulance. The ambulance, No. 101, was driven by paramedic Joseph Sanders and partner Catherine Abrams.
The applause that greeted the honor guard was something Wells found both discon-certing and reassuring.

"I considered it a funeral procession, but there was clapping," Wells said. "Of course, it wasn't out of disrespect. They were showing appreciation for what we have been going through."

Honor guard member Alan Reiss, representing the Port Authority, in a gray wool suit, recalled the eight people of the 16 in his own department who have not been recovered. "I was thinking about the people who didn't make it," he said. "I woke at 3 in the morning thinking about it."

There were no speeches by the many elected officials and dignitaries present. The only words uttered aloud called those assembled to attention.

Families of the lost stood out in their silent grief. A group of firefighters wore purple and white leis sent from Hawaii. A bouquet of yellow roses was wedged in the fence of the pedestrian ramp leading out of the pit.

Hayley Lehrfeld, of Brooklyn Heights, lost her husband, Eric, 32, who has not been recovered.

"I actually think it's important to document each stage of this entire event," she said. "For me personally, it's more to have something to show my daughter as she grows up. ... "

"There is no grave. ... It was very moving to me, as a family member, to see the girder covered as a coffin."

Some relatives said they were upset because they couldn't see the ceremony from their designated West Street viewing area.
"I couldn't see anything," said Yuvelly Santos, whose husband, Rafael, died in the attacks.

Others were touched by the contrast from 8 1/2 months ago.

"I came here when the pile was 12 stories high and now it's swept, and I'm glad it's over," said Brian Lyons, a superintendent for Tully Construction, who lost his brother Sept. 11. "It is hard to put into words - people who came here every week or so could step away, and think about it a little. But we never could."

There were those who came from a long way off. The Southern Baptists from Ala-bama; paramedic Kim Hampton, 30, and firefighter Jim Campbell, 24, from Wilson, N.C.

For Davitt McAteer, a mine-safety expert working for the operating engineers un-ion, the day was an opportunity to reflect on the site's safety record.

"It's miraculous no one was killed" during recovery work, said McAteer.

The removal of debris remaining after the clearing of nearly 2 million tons of rubble is expected by the middle of next week.

Yesterday, at journey's end, the last beam - pocked, rusted, tattooed with spray paint, checked with prayer cards and photos and wrapped in its black shroud - came to rest on a tarmac at Kennedy Airport, in the place where precious things from the trade center go.