I was covering President Bush for the Austin American-Statesman/Cox Newspapers on Sept. 11, 2011. Among the many things that have disappeared since then is the D.C. Cox bureau itself. Budget cuts killed it. At the time, though, the bureau was a quick jog across from Union Station on the Senate side of the Hill. I remember arriving at the bureau. My Bureau Chief Andy Alexander, who was about seven feet tall and a string bean, wheeled around, stuck his finger in my face and barked: "Heath, get to the White House."

I ran to the elevator, to the Metro and as close as I could get to the White House. It was walled off by yellow crime scene tape, and a guy armed with an automatic weapon patrolled the perimeter. Very few reporters were around. We are all looking for one another, for the inevitable press set-up, the briefer who could brief us. Of course, there was no set-up and no spokesperson.

Quickly we realized that we didn't even know where the president was. Our cell service was non-existent and then sketchy. We were marooned, waiting for word.

Along the way, I'd caught snippets of panicked conversation among federal workers, ID badges dangling from their necks, as they wondered how they would get home or if they would get home at all that day. I saw a hastily scrawled sign in a bank window: "Closed Due to National Tragedy." I remember the panicked feeling of fear. What the hell was happening? Would I get the story?

Soon enough, we all started putting the story together. I worked around the clock for the next year, following Bush and the White House as they tried to make their way through the new reality.

I'd go home at night and watch the planes fly into the Twin Towers. I'm a New Yorker. It was heartbreak every day.

Heath now teaches journalism at St. Edward's University.

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