As the New England Patriots and the St. Louis Rams chafed at the bit to get it on in Super Bowl XXXVII, and Mariah Carey 's voice soared harmoniously at "the rocket 's red glare, " quite another image clouded US Army Captain Sean Donahue 's mind. Unable to draw a deep breath without the painful arpeggios of an inflamed cough that threatened to disintegrate his lungs, Donahue 's patriotic spirit flashed-back to an image of himself slogging through amorphous dust and charred debris. His laser-sharp aviator 's eyes, manifestly watching a TV screen, painfully burned as they desperately tried, by the dawn 's early light, to peer through heavy clouds of smoke and dust at ground zero, all through the night of September 11, searching, pleading with his God and the ghosts of the fallen to reveal themselves as whole. But only a fractured limb, a decapitated torso, a faint fragment of former humanity answered back through the grotesque wreckage and rubble of the World Trade Center.
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