My Exciting Commute Home

Thursday I was about to miss my bus and was dashing through the halls of the Pentagon trying not to be late. I swiped my card to leave and as soon as I came through the doors I heard a pop and knew it was a gunshot.

I looked toward the direction of the sound and saw no one else reacting as if they heard a gunshot so I figured I was wrong. I'm sure that only was a fraction of a second, but after thinking things were okay I continued on to my bus. Then I heard a second shot followed by the shout "Oh no, you didn't!". This time when I turned I saw both Pentagon Force Protection (PFPA) agents (PFPA) moving quickly and people running.

I was right behind an Army guy who about a foot taller than I am. When I saw him running, and guessing he has been deployed to a combat zone, I knew that things were pretty serious.

I ran forward too, staying low, and came to a sliding stop behind a concrete barricade placed in the entryway to the Pentagon to prevent cars from driving up to the doors. The layout of the entryway was published in Washington Post, which I modified to show my individual path.


I've been asked why I didn't turn around and go back into the building. First, I thought I saw the PFPA guys turn around towards the doors and I feared that the shooter got past them and towards the entrance to the building. If that was the case, I would be running back at the gunman and not away if I turned back inside. Second, the guards aren't big fans of people going in through the exit in a normal situation. After some gunfire I thought that they'd think even less of it. I didn't want to be confused by the guards as the shooter and running in the out door would suggest that I was. So I went forward.

As I moved up to the concrete block, I heard about 12 more shots. There was a lot going through my head in that few seconds.

First I thought that if a guy walked up to the guards and fired two shots, he must have hit both guards and was now moving on to do whatever he wanted to do. I then ran through scenarios of what could he possibly want to do: charge into the building, suicide by cop, or rampage on all who were outside.

As the Chief of the PFPA has said, there is a layered defense and getting through it is obviously impossible. I also figured that suicide by cop was an unlikely scenario because having shot the two guards, he was making that impossible in the short term. I took the 12 additional shots as the gunman choosing the rampage option. I now know that those shots were the return fire from the PFPA, but at the time I figured he was on the loose chasing down anyone he saw moving.

I also thought about the days I spent on a shooting team. I remembered being behind the berm at the target end of the range and hearing the bullets pass overhead. I didn't hear that same sound of bullets passing nearby, but I also wondered if a bullet from a handgun, which has a slower muzzle velocity, would make the same sound as the rifles I'm accustomed to hearing.

I also knew that the shots were still being fired from the entrance side of the doors which would mean to me that the gunman wasn't chasing people around but firing from one point. I later found out he wasn't moving anywhere and that the guards were the ones firing now, but at the time I knew that meant which side of the barricade I needed to be on.

After a couple seconds the firing stopped. To me that meant either that it was done or the shooter had paused to reload. Either way I thought that getting out of there quickly was important. I jumped up and ran down the stairs (not shown in the pictures) and turned the corner towards my bus.

I know the Army guys in deployed locations like to make fun of the Air Force guys by saying that they aren't physically fit. I can now say that I am faster than at least one Army guy.

At my bus there was a young woman crouched down low. When she saw my get on the bus, she followed me aboard. She was shaking and crying. I yelled that there was a guy shooting people and the bus should leave. She could only get "they're shooting people" out through her cries. The bus driver didn't react. It was clear that Metro's training was so ingrained in him that no amount of crying, swearing, or hysteria was going to get him to leave one minute earlier than 6:37. Eventually, when everyone on the bus was ducking below the windows and encouraging him to leave, he did.

While I now know that by this point, the gunman was under PFPA control and dying of his wounds, at that moment it was as likely to me that both guards were dead and after emptying his guns he was now searching out others to continue the spree.

As the bus pulled into the HOV lanes of 395 I called home and told Sarah, who took it incredibly well. She has said she's known something like this would at the Pentagon since it is the focal point for so much delusional ranting and, to many, a symbol of conspiratorial forces, but she hadn't assumed that I'd be so close to such an event. With a calm but trembling voice, she said "Let's talk about this when you get home," clearly not wanting to know more than I was okay until she could see me. Then I called Mom. Of course since they don't have cable, she my not have known until the paper showed up in the morning, but you have to call Mom.

Once I got on the bus, I noticed that my pant leg was torn to shreds. During the power slide I had ripped the pants and my skin. The cut isn't too bad, but I will need to get replacement suit pants sometime soon.

The rest of the commute and night was very much like any other day. I wondered if it was a problem that I didn't swipe my bus pass as I got on. I determined it wasn't a big deal. When I got home, I ate, helped get the boys ready for bed, cleaned up, and went to bed myself. All very mundane. I'm glad for that.

I have a couple of take-aways to share. First, the PFPA guys are awesome. Since their uniforms are very similar to those of mall cops, I used to think as I walked by them "if something were to happen, would these guys really be ready to act?" I got my answer. When confronted they acted quickly and decisively even after being shot. I even give style points for yelling "Oh no, you didn't!" It's not quite the line used in Pulp Fiction, but it has flavor.

Another thing I considered is "Was fleeing cowardice?" I don't think so. The determination is situation dependent, but in general we all have our roles in a given situation. Heroism is performing your function at personal risk or, when no one else is available to perform a function, stepping into that role at your own risk. Doing someone else's job when they are capable, present, and trained is just getting in the way.

Most important is the family. Sarah is doing enough with me gone endless hours at work to need to also fear that I'm going to walk into the middle of a shooting. But when that happened, she once again took care of things at home no matter how chaotic things got at work. When I got home we hugged, kissed and said how nice it was I was home and then went on with the evening.

In the end nothing happened, and in retrospect, I wasn't in line of fire since those who were did their job. All it ended up being was a pair of ripped pants, a skinned knee, and a story with a nice Washington Post graphic.