Ladder
118's Final Run'Into the Gates of Hell'
Six from firehouse lost in Trade Center disaster
By MICHELE McPHEE
When the bell resonated through the Brooklyn Heights firehouse
- in the instant after the second plane crashed into the World
Trade Center - the members of Ladder 118 were ready.
Five of their housemates had already responded, aboard Engine
205, within moments of the first plane hitting the north tower.
During the next 14 minutes, the men of Ladder 118 watched the
black, acrid smoke billow across the water, waiting for their
call to action.
At 9:02 the morning of Sept. 11, with the unthinkable having happened
a second time, it was their turn.
Leon (Express) Smith jumped behind the wheel. Lt. Robert (Dizzy
Dean) Regan sat in the adjacent officer's seat. Scott (The Dog)
Davidson took the position behind the driver. Joey (Bells) Agnello
sat behind the boss. Vernon (Mo) Cherry was behind him.
The tiller man, Pete (Big Head) Vega, controlled the rear of the
rig, steering out of the firehouse, down Middagh St., then a tight
left onto Cadman Plaza, a fast right at Prospect St. and onto
the Brooklyn Bridge.
As the truck sped across the span, a man named Aaron McLamb snapped
a photograph of the rig from the rooftop of the Jehovah's Witness
Watchtower building - six firefighters headed to their deaths.
"I look at this picture, and it makes me think those guys
were driving straight into the gates of hell," said the Rev.
Michael Carrano, the pastor at Assumption Church, located around
the corner from the Engine 205/Ladder 118 firehouse.
"I've learned a lot about these men since Sept. 11,"
Carrano said. "They must have had hearts of gold that you
can't find at the end of any rainbow."
Surviving Engine 205/Ladder 118 firemen pay respects to fallen
housemates.
When they arrived on the scene, the six firefighters from Ladder
118 parked their rig at West and Vesey Sts., then vanished into
the thick, cloudy smoke and soot.
"We don't know what tower they were in, or on what floor,"
said Ladder 118 Firefighter Eddie Greene. "What we do know
is that every guy in that truck was going to go in no matter what.
If there had been more guys on the rig, there would have been
more deaths.
"The Ladder 118 truck was recovered within days of the terrorist
attack - its windows broken, its cab filled with twisted steel
from the blast.
The vehicle has been restored and put back in service. But its
members are still missing.
A grim twist of fate saved the lives of the five firefighters
riding on Engine 205.
They had stopped to help Danny Suhr, a firefighter who was fatally
injured after someone fell or jumped from one of the towers and
landed on him.
"It's terrible to think about, but this guy [Suhr] getting
killed saved all these guys from Engine 205," said Ladder
118 Firefighter Jimmy McAlevy.
With the days turning to weeks, the survivors from the firehouse
nicknamed "Fire Under the Bridge" allowed their hope
to turn to sad reality, mourning the loss of the six who were
aboard Ladder 118, along with two others from their firehouse
- Lt. Robert Wallace and Capt. Martin Egan.
Then McLamb, the man with the camera on the Watchtower roof, appeared
at the Middagh St. station with blown-up copies of the photograph
he had snapped that terrible morning.
Firefighters studied the picture with a magnifying glass to make
sure the truck on the bridge was Ladder 118.
They concluded the evidence was convincing.
The rig's orange stokes basket was upside down, a Ladder 118 trademark.
Its saw box jutted out. And the dings and scratches were the same
ones firefighters had stared at on the tiller truck - one of six
in the FDNY fleet in Brooklyn - for years.
"Oh, my God, we're looking at their last run, literally.
That's the first thing I thought when I saw it," said Ladder
118 Firefighter John Sorrentino, who was off from work that day
but had rushed to the scene in his car anyway.
"Imagine what was going through their heads, going over the
bridge, looking out the window and seeing that," Sorrentino
said.
As they wait for any news about their missing men, the surviving
members of Engine 205/Ladder 118 have tried to bring cheer into
the house by trading stories about each of their fallen brothers.
They talk about Cherry, 49, a 28-year FDNY veteran who was the
department's official singer. He had a secret lasagna recipe called
"Vernon Mo Lasagmo" that was the envy of other firehouse
cooks.
Smith, 48, the neighborhood mechanic who spent all 19 years of
FDNY service at Ladder 118, earned his nickname, Express, by making
sure his was the first truck at every fire.
Regan, 45, a quiet guy with a permanent smile, always looked like
"he combed his hair with a shoe;" Scott (The Dog) Davidson,
33, had earned his moniker because he frequently wore everyone
else's clothes, reputedly not buying a single pair of boots during
his eight years on the job.
Agnello, 35, was known for bragging about his toddler boys - Sal,
3, and Vincent, 1. He had been the target of good-natured ribbing
about the way he rang the wrong bells in his first days at the
house - hence his nickname Joey Bells.
And Vega, 36, the resident politician, many times had dragged
fellow firefighters into long, animated debates that raged into
the night.
."They were troops on their way to battle," said Ladder
118 Firefighter Mike Gallino. "Now there is a big, empty
hole in this house."
As part of the healing process, firefighters have made copies
of McLamb's photograph for every member of the company.
When family members of the fallen men stop by, they sip coffee
in the kitchen, seated next to a framed copy of Ladder 118's final
run.
"I looked at the picture and I thought, 'Oh, my God. This
is Vernon driving to his 'exit out,'" said Joanne Cherry,
Vernon's wife of 31 years. "Maybe this was the way Vernon
wanted to leave the world."
"I don't wish that truck turned around," she added.
"I know in my heart he would have wanted to go full blast
in there. He would have never turned back. His job was saving
people. He loved his job."
Donna Regan, who met her husband when she was 15, is also grateful
that he died in the performance of duty. She tells their children
- Caitlin, 15, and Brendan, 12 - that the Regans are a lucky family,
despite their loss.
"I'm glad the miracle in our lives is that we had him,"
she said. "My little prayer is that if these guys should
be laid to rest, they should all be together, where they answered
their last call."
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