Into
the Valley of Death With No Fear
September 20, 2001
In
a spontaneous moment, a firefighter reached into his pocket, pulled
out a portable camera and snapped a photo of two comrades trudging
forward through white smoke toward the remaining tower.
"They're
walking back in, and they're just covered with rubble," said
Billy Curatolo, a firefighter with Engine Co. 23, describing the
photograph. His brother, Robert, is one of the men. "It's
just an unbelievable picture. It shows his bravery."
The
photo was snapped by firefighter Richard Rattazzi, who with Robert
Curatolo and Lt. Ray Murphy had just run for cover after the first
tower crumbled. But they were still on the job.
"It's
like that saying, 'You walk through the valley of death, but you
have no fear,'" Rattazzi said. "That's what we were
doing. We were walking back into it, like we do all the time."
Curatolo
died when the second tower toppled; Murphy is still missing. The
photo has become a symbol for their firehouse on the Upper East
Side and Ladder Co. 16 as well as for their families.
"Not
only is it a photo of their last moments, but it's also a photo
that shows us that they're doing what we were all trained to do,"
said Lt. Raymond Wick of Engine 39, which shares the same firehouse.
"It's proof to us that, in the face of danger, they didn't
relent. It's a symbol of what we do."
Curatolo,
Murphy and Rattazzi had worked overnight on Sept. 10. Although
they were off duty at 9 a.m., they remained at the firehouse watching
the calamity unfold on television. At about 9:15, they were recalled
to duty, and Curatolo telephoned his wife, Christine, to tell
her that he was heading to the disaster. The three caught a ride
to the scene with a police officer.
"We
were talking about sticking together," Rattazzi said. "We
were trying to find our company so we could operate."
The
trio picked up masks and tools and started down West Street. When
they got near, Tower Two tumbled. Billowing smoke and cascading
debris engulfed them and they scrambled for cover.
"We
hadn't known it was Tower Two that came down," Rattazzi said.
"Everything just got black. You couldn't see. You couldn't
breath. The debris just kind of surrounded you."
As
a white cloud replaced the black smoke, Rattazzi helped someone
to an ambulance and returned to find Curatolo and Murphy. They
were about 25 feet ahead when he snapped their picture.
Rattazzi
then helped an injured fireman to an ambulance while Curatolo
and Murphy kept pushing toward Tower One.
"On
my way back, my tools were gone, and they were gone," Rattazzi
said. "I came across a chief, and I said I was missing two
members from Ladder 16, and we couldn't find them."
He
was still looking for Curatolo and Murphy when Tower One, the
first tower struck but the second to fall, let loose. "I
got knocked off my feet by the wind," Rattazzi said. "It
took my helmet flying."
Curatolo,
who had been with the department for six years, was found near
his company's utility truck by the Financial Plaza parking garage
on West Street, directly across the street from where the Twin
Towers had stood. "Everything in that street got demolished,"
Rattazzi said.
Curatolo,
31, was the youngest of eight children and the latest of his relatives
to become a civil servant: His father, Anthony, works for the
U.S. Post Office; his brother Anthony, 38, is a New York police
officer; and in addition to Billy, 32, his brother John, 36, is
also a firefighter.
Curatolo
is also survived by his mother, Mary Ann; and his sisters, Carolyn,
37; Deena, 40, and Kathy, 41; all of Staten Island; and his sister
Christine, 39, of Florida.
"He
was the youngest, and we used to bust his chops all the time,"
Billy Curatolo said, "but he would do anything for anybody.
You never had to ask him twice, my brother." --Jo Craven
McGinty
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