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The Ghosts of Yorktown, Sept 11th, 2001 by Darcy Guyant
- Darcy Guyant
- Sep 15
- 4 min read
I stood in the middle of the Yorktown Battlefield, the site of the final major American Revolutionary War battle, which took place in September and October 1781. I was directly between the British and Colonial Army positions. This location would have been deafening and deadly, with canons and muskets spewing lead across the open field. But at the moment, it was eerily quiet and still.
It was 5 p.m. on the afternoon of September 11th, 2001. I was on my way home from the U.S. Coast Guard Training Center (TraCen) Yorktown, where I served as the Assistant Chief of the National Search & Rescue School. The road to TraCen Yorktown passed directly through the Yorktown Battlefield, amidst the location of the fiercest fighting during that famous battle, the battle that essentially ended the war and led to our independence from British rule in 1783. I had the privilege of passing through these hallowed grounds daily as I commuted from my home near Williamsburg, VA, to the USCG TraCen.
It had been a surreal, confusing, and emotional day for me, as it had been for nearly everyone. I needed time alone to reflect on the day’s events before going home. So, I stopped at an observation area on the battlefield, walked to the top of a defensive berm constructed by Colonial forces, and stood silently. There was not the slightest hint of wind. The sky above was clear and bright blue; no
clouds or jet contrails marred the sky. The sky above was some of the busiest airspace in the country. There were always jets crisscrossing the sky. But not on this afternoon.
Earlier that morning, I watched two F-15 fighters from Langley Air Force Base pass directly over the TraCen, heading north. They were flying low and very fast, their afterburners roaring. But now, six hours later, nothing was in the air except for a few Air Force and Navy fighters, who remained vigilant for additional attacks.
A few sparrows and robins were fluttering here and there, oblivious to the mandatory nationwide grounding. It was struck by the eerie quiet. Usually, an aircraft could be heard somewhere in the distance, operating from one of the many Army, Air Force, and Navy bases in this part of Virginia or from the busy International Airport just a few miles away. But at that moment, there was nothing but quiet, except for a few birds singing in the distance, grasshopper wings clicking as they flew from spot to spot, and two deer munching on the grass nearby.
My great (x5) grandfather, Luke Guyant, had fought here, at Yorktown, 220 years before, during the Battle of Yorktown. He was assigned to General George Washington’s protection detail. As a 7th-generation “Son of the American Revolution,” knowing that my great-grandfather had been right here, where the future of our country was altered, made the day’s events even more surreal and poignant.
As I stood there, I thought about the progression of my emotions throughout the day—from my initial skepticism of the news to my confusion over reports of more planes crashing. As more news and video began streaming on the TV, I felt disbelief. This couldn’t really be happening! Then, as I watched live, the first tower fell and disappeared in a cloud of dust. I was stunned. I stood watching, speechless, as were the others standing beside me. Then, the second tower fell.
The 20 students in our Search and Rescue Planners Course had been in the classroom all morning and had no clue what had happened. The School Chief somberly walked into the classroom and interrupted training. All instructors, staff, and students gathered in the classroom as he solemnly briefed us on the situation. The training was canceled for the remainder of the morning so everyone could call their units and loved ones.
Now, several hours later, as I stood in that serene setting, surrounded by the surreal silence, I imagined the ghostly presence of those who perished here, securing our freedom so long ago. I asked the same question millions of others were asking that day, “Why God? Why have You allowed this to happen to so many good and innocent people?”
Regardless of how deep and firm a person’s faith is, wondering how something of this magnitude fits into a loving God’s omniscient existence and sovereign plan are natural questions. I already knew the answer to this question, but I still found it hard to fully grasp and understand, especially when directly impacted and so close to home.
When I got home, my two teenage kids, my wife, and I watched the evening news together. The reports, images, and videos were all about that day’s barbaric attacks and the tragic aftermath. When the news finished, I turned off the TV so we could talk and share how we were doing. I told my kids I was sure this day would have huge, long-lasting impacts on our country, the world, and potentially each of us personally. At the time, I had no idea how accurate that prediction would be and how deep that impact would affect each of us.
My son and daughter would both serve in Afghanistan. My son, a Marine Corps infantryman, would engage in fierce fighting in the Helmand Province of Southern Afghanistan. Our daughter deployed years later as an Army doctor serving in the Emergency Room at the NATO hospital in Kabul, Afghanistan.
My wife and I spent much time on our knees praying for their safety. I thank God for answering our prayers. Both of our kids returned home physically unharmed. However, some wounds are unseen. Those wounds take much longer to heal completely, if ever, and may leave lifelong scars.
I wonder how my great-grandfather Luke and his fellow revolutionaries would have viewed the heart-rending events of September 11th. They had fought for our independence and the idea that a nation built on liberty and justice could endure and thrive. I think Grandpa Luke would have been proud to see his 8th-generation descendants stepping up to defend what he and many others had fought to establish. They would have seen in us the same resolve and unyielding spirit that carried them through their fight for freedom, witnessing the ideals they bled for still standing.
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