That “place” is a sacred site, the final resting place of United Airlines flight 93, its seven crew, and 33 passengers. Their eternity is a field – a wide open, sloping farmer’s field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

I had desired to visit the memorial for years. When Richard asked what I wanted for my October birthday weekend, the Flight 93 memorial was my answer. Not a festive destination, but something I had to do.

The first twelve years of my working life were as a flight attendant – spent in American Airlines passenger cabins and cockpits. I needed to understand as many details as possible, particularly what it was like in the cabin of the airplane on that fated day. I had wondered for years.

The Flight 93 National Memorial, as directed by the National Park Service, is not recreational. The Park Service presents a many-faceted learning experience, bringing the visitor close to what happened September 11, 2001, while never forgetting it is a grave site. There is no cafeteria, no vending machines, no children’s play spaces. My fellow visitors were uniformly quiet, subdued, considerate.

The reverential memorial was planned on 2200 sprawling acres surrounding the crash site. Every aspect of its design respects the 40 lost lives. The passengers’ families and many local people participated on many levels of the memorial’s creation. One road is lined with 40 groves of 40 trees each, representing the 40 souls lost that day.

The Visitors’ exhibits walked us through the timeline leading to the crash that morning. When flight 93’s passengers realized what was happening, 13 of them made 37 phone calls. They learned about the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks. Some of them did not reach their loved ones and their phone messages were recorded. And saved. As I listened to them, I felt my heart crying in sympathy, yet hardening against the attackers at the same time. This was real.

The large picture window at the end of the exhibit looks down the sloping field to a huge boulder marking the crash site. I realized that in its final few seconds, the plane flew directly over where I stood.

One of the memorial’s guides explained that many local citizens were still involved with the site. “Today’s speaker volunteers one day a month. She brings a 20-year history of relating her firsthand experiences that day. She will begin speaking in 10 minutes, and I promise you it is worthwhile.” He was so right.

This dedicated volunteer first explained how the terrorist hijackers planned then executed their horrendous plot. She was painstakingly detailed and knowledgeable. The hijackers’ goal was to destroy the commerce, the military, and the government of the United States. Their targets were carefully chosen for maximum damage. The destruction of the Capitol building, with the full Congress in session was their intention for flight 93.

After the hijackers took control of the aircraft, the terrorist in the captain’s seat turned east over Ohio, heading for Washington, D.C. United’s pilots, the first-class flight attendants, and one passenger were already incapacitated or dead. A small group of male passengers huddled in the coach cabin. Together, they made the unfathomable decision to take the plane back.

The entire passenger group of strangers, suddenly united in this extraordinary situation, somehow came together in heart and mind. The men waited until they were over a rural area to attack. The passenger leaders entered the cockpit to wrestle control back from the hijackers flying the plane.

Already at a low altitude, the terrorist pilot decided he was not giving up. Fighting off the cockpit intruders, he began flipping the plane over. Chaos ruled as he tried to shake off the citizen attack. The surviving cockpit voice recorder revealed the terrorists’ last prayers as the plane crashed upside down, nose first. At 563 MPH. With 5,500 gallons of jet fuel onboard.

Our speaker then brought us to the ground in Shanksville.

The crash site had once been a strip mine. When the mine was exhausted, it was backfilled, so the ground was soft. Above the mine site were two operating businesses. The aircraft went directly over their roof before it crashed.

The speed was so great, the inferno so huge, the ground so yielding, that the plane telescoped upon itself. The black airplane-shaped crater was 40′ deep and 85′ wide – the complete wing span. The tiny pieces of everything the plane was – and its contents – were scattered across 40 acres. A common field one day, a field of honor forever.

Our speaker shared so many facts while stirring deep emotions in her audience. This brief description is in no way sufficient to relate what I heard, what I learned, what I felt. I came away profoundly sorrowed, but with deeper knowledge and immense admiration for those men who sacrificed everything, whose courage mattered.

There is so much more to their story. I encourage you to visit, to feel, to learn.

I will always remember.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.