3 Days at Ground Zero That Changed His Life

Bronx native and Middletown Police Sgt. David Galm had just gotten off third shift on Sept. 11, 2001, when he heard on the radio driving home that the first World Trade Center tower had been hit. It was 8:50 a.m.

By 1:30 p.m., he had driven more than 100 miles to New York City to join officers securing the perimeter of Ground Zero, to help augment the New York Police Department's forces. Crossing the West Side Highway in Manhattan, Galm, 42, of Sharon, was stunned to see hundreds of New Yorkers lining the streets.

“They were all cheering and you think, ‘What are they all cheering for?’ (then) 'Wait a minute, I’m the only one here.'

"It was curiosity — people still hadn’t grasped the reality of what was going on. I think they were there because they had nowhere else to go,” Galm says.

For the next three days, Galm worked four-hour shifts, taking two-hour naps in his car.

“You would just go off and try to catch a cat nap here or there. I slept in my car because where else are you going to sleep? A couple hours later, I’d pop up and get back out there.”

His five years in the U.S. Navy and many years of EMS diving and patrolling the Connecticut River for the Middletown Police Department helped Galm shift into lifesaving mode. His training took over and mercifully allowed him to witness atrocities — and still function capably.

“You sort of have to push through," Galm says. "In the moment, you’re on autopilot. You remove yourself emotionally initially.”

Walking the perimeter, maintaining a safe buffer between the curious and desperate public and the devastation — with emergency medical workers and relief efforts underway, Galms was very close to Ground Zero.

“The perimeter we set up, we were probably five or six blocks north of where the towers originally stood, but we ended up being only a few blocks away from debris, actually large pieces of steel.

“That walkway crossing over into the American Express complex, that was only a couple blocks south of us. Building seven [which collapsed at 5:20 p.m.] was two blocks from where we were,” Galm says.

One image is seared in his memory. On the AmEx complex walkway, Galm came across a Port Authority officer. “His body was half-crushed. I couldn’t get this massive, steel structure off him.”

His first instinct was to help.

“I thought, ‘number one, he’s clearly dead. Number two, there’s nothing I can do.’ You sort of have to push through.”

“In our line of work, always in the back of your mind … ‘you know what? I might not come home that day.' That Port Authority officer, he went to work that day and didn’t come home. He’s not a bad guy, it’s just circumstances.”

Another thing that sticks with Galm is the pumice-gray layer of fine dust that blanketed everything and hung as a haze in the air — so thick it was as though a volcano had erupted.

“There was this layer of dust, this superfine, powdery gray,” he recalls.

“It was a sunny day,” Galm says, “but you could see the smoke was still coming out of the disaster area and then this cloud from all the dust was just kind of lingering around the base of all that. It was just odd, because on one hand, you’ve got a crystal-clear beautiful day, but then there’s smoke and dust — usually, you equate that with a rainy day, foggy; so it kind of throws off your senses of what normal should be.”

And the dust was aggravated by relief vehicles.

“At some point, the first day, or part of that first night, they started bringing around street sweepers to minimize the dust because the only vehicles that could go in or out of our perimeter were police or emergency vehicles. But every time they’d go by, a big cloud of dust was created,” Galm says.

He took minimal precautions to avoid lung damage.

“We had these little flimsy masks. They helped, but you still had that taste in your mouth," Galm says. "That taste was always there in your mouth. You had a layer of it on you."

Fortunately, in 10 years, he’s never suffered health repercussions from his three days volunteering near Ground Zero.

“I did get screened,” Galm says. “Everybody that was there had to get screened in Nassau County, breathing tests and a baseline, so if you have problems in the future.”

And he hasn’t experienced post-traumatic stress disorder, insomnia or recurring dreams. Galm attributes that to him making a conscious decision to help. If he was a victim, Galm says, his situation could have been different.

“I went there because I wanted to.”

He also recalls the disconcerting vision of workers’ personal items and mementos — once placed atop desks and filing cabinets — strewn around the streets.

“There were photos, memos … I don’t remember anything specific. You just knew that that came from somebody’s desk, from a building that is no longer there,” Galm says.

“Every now and again, you would see a shoe and you would wonder, ‘Was that on somebody or was that just in their office?’ You don’t know.”

Galm left only because he was a father of three young children — and his wife was home with their two-week-old daughter.

It wasn’t easy.

“I thought, ‘Did I do enough? Should I have stayed longer? I’ve got to go,’ but I didn’t want to go.”

There were more New Yorkers lining the streets when he departed, this time holding signs saying, “thank you” and “God Bless America.”

“The West Side Highway is closed, you’re leaving out of there and everyone is cheering, they’re holding signs. They were there to show support.

“It felt good, but you never think of that. You just do it and hope somebody appreciates it. But this is like in-your-face appreciation.”

He did have a modest brush with the mayor at the time, the significance of which in the stress of the moment escaped him.

“I met Rudy Giuliani at one point," Galm says. "I think it was in the middle of the night that first night. He had come down and happened to come through right where we were — of all places he could have come through. He shook my hand and he looked at my patch.”

Giuliani said, “Oh, wow! Middletown, Connecticut. Wow! Thanks.”

Even though he’s retiring from the force later this month due to an incapacitating knee injury, Galm says he’d do it all again in an instant.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t do anything different. I’d go right back and do whatever I could to help out. If it was even a natural disaster … I went down for Katrina and helped out for a week with that — it’s just my personality,” Galm says. “I’d do whatever I could to help out in whatever capacity I could.”

He’s blessed with a compassionate nature, he says.

“I like to help others, that’s what drives me.”

Galm is not so sure, either, that the threat of terrorism against the United States has been squelched. “It’s not over, I think, for us. At some point, somebody is going to try to do something in the country.”

In Galm’s mind, hearing the news that Osama bin Laden was captured and killed by U.S. forces doesn’t mean an end to al-Qaida.

“I’m glad they got him. I don’t believe that automatically makes it end. I think what that tends to do is strengthen anybody that is on the fence of whether they should be part of al-Qaida or not probably not continue, but those that were will continue almost in his name or honor," Galm says. "I think it’ll be something that will always be there until that type of culture can be fixed or eradicated."

With retirement just weeks away, Galm is looking forward to spending time at home in the tranquil Northwest corner of Connecticut with his wife and four children, now 14, 12, 10 and 8 years old.

He has no plans to mark Sept. 11.

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