September 11, 2001, is a day I’ll never forget.  It all started for me when my chief of staff walked into my office, just across the street from our nation’s capitol, and told me that a plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center.  We sat for a moment and watched the live television coverage, debating whether it was a pilot error or a deliberate attack. 

For the time being, my schedule continued as planned with an eye turned toward the television.  Moments later, however, my worst fears—that what we were witnessing had been the work of terrorists—were confirmed as we watched a second plane crash into the other tower of the World Trade Center.    
In less than a half-hour, I found myself standing at my office window staring out at a cloud of black smoke billowing toward the sky in the distance and listening in the background to television reports that a third airplane had barreled into the Pentagon.  The moment was surreal.  I turned to my laptop and e-mailed a good friend and neighbor back home in Prescott, Arkansas, to tell him of the horrible news and to let him know where to find things my wife and family would need if something happened to me.  Within minutes, my staff and I were ordered by Capitol Police officers to evacuate the building immediately. 

As I began my three-block walk home to my apartment, I was thankful to see that people did not appear to be panicking.  Instead, the prevailing mood seemed to be one of shock and disbelief that our nation’s capital city had come under attack—not from other countries invading our borders, but rather from terrorists who attacked from within, using our country’s own commercial airlines as their weapons of mass destruction.  None of us was certain what could lie ahead.

I used my cell phone to call my wife, Holly, to let her know what was going on.  She already knew of the attack on our country and was very upset and worried.  I was relieved to learn that our pastor had already come to her side.  I reassured Holly that I was okay and that I loved her, and I told her not to worry.
Seconds later, I felt what at the time I thought was an explosion.  I walked faster towards my apartment.  As I continued walking, I could hear the sounds of jets in the air, yet I knew that the commercial airlines across America had been grounded by our government.  At first, I wondered if it was another hijacked commercial airliner, piloted by terrorists, headed for the U.S. Capitol or the Supreme Court, which are both located along my route home.  I walked even faster.  Then, I discovered it was our military responding to this deadly attack on our nation and protecting our nation’s capitol city from the air.  (Later I would learn that the explosion I thought I had felt was actually a sonic boom created by the low flying military fighter jets.)  It was a sound I would continue to hear for the remainder of the week—a sound in which I would surprisingly find some comfort.

I arrived at my apartment to learn that a fourth plane had crashed in a rural part of Pennsylvania and that the twin towers had collapsed, leaving thousands of people injured and thousands more dead or missing.  Reports later indicated that the fourth plane was supposed to hit the U.S. Capitol and that those on board, aware of their fate, had bravely attempted to overtake the hijackers.  
I spent much of the afternoon talking by telephone to my family, my pastor, and my staff; praying for our country; and watching the continuous live television coverage for updates.  Toward the end of the day, a good friend who had served with me in the Arkansas State Legislature arrived at my apartment, where he had planned to spend several days while attending a conference in Washington, D.C.  He had been in Alexandria, Virginia, that morning when the Pentagon was attacked, and it had taken him hours to make his way to my apartment, a trip that would normally take about 15 minutes.  As a result of the attacks, all roads, bridges and mass transportation into the city had been shut down.

That evening, I joined other members of the United States Congress on the steps of the United States Capitol for a hastily assembled press conference.  We wanted the world to know that we would not hide from nor fear these terrorists, although they continue to hide from us today, and I was overwhelmed by a sense of patriotism as we stood in the twilight and addressed the world.  
At the end of the press conference, one of the members began to sing “God Bless America.”  As we all joined in, I could see tears come to the eyes of some of my colleagues, and I soon felt tears welling up in my own eyes.  We did not know it at the time, but it wasn’t the tough talk from the press conference that would be remembered or played on the news for days to follow, but rather my colleagues and I, standing on the capitol steps, united as one America, singing this wonderful song that demonstrated our love for this great nation and our faith in God.  It’s a moment that will be forever etched in my memory.
 The next three days were fast paced.  The United States Congress unanimously passed a resolution condemning the attacks and encouraging the people of the United States to demonstrate their unity by flying the American Flag.  In addition, we passed legislation to expedite payment of benefits to those killed or injured in the line of duty while so heroically providing rescue and recovery efforts; we approved a measure to provide tax relief for the victims; and we voted to devote $40 billion in emergency spending to fund anti-terrorism initiatives as well as relief efforts in response to the disaster.

On Friday, I attended a moving prayer service at the National Cathedral with other members of the Congress, the President, former presidents, Billy Graham and others to honor those who gave their lives on that fateful day.  We were taken to the National Cathedral from the U.S. Capitol and back by motorcade amid tight security.  It was starting to sink-in that my life and the lives of all Americans were changing—a change that none of us welcomed and a change that I most certainly do not want to become a new way of life for any of us.  That evening, we voted to approve a resolution authorizing the President to use the United States Armed Forces as a means of force against those individuals, groups and countries responsible for or assisting in the attacks of September 11, 2001.  We would soon be at war—a war against terrorism.

 We’ve started our dissent into BWI airport, and I’ve been instructed to turn off my laptop computer.  I look at some of the passengers seated near me wearing the red, white and blue ribbons.  It reminds me of how this was not only an attack on two cities, but an attack on America.  I glance over to the two children across the aisle from me.  They are putting up their crayons and coloring books.  They remind me of how important this war on terrorism is.  I want these two young children, my children and yours, and children for generations to come to grow up in a country that is free from terrorists.  We must be strong and we must not fear them.  Our children are counting on us.