Raymond E. Murphy
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
(Newsday)
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