Our Enter on Duty date was September 9, 2001; and, for me and seven of my classmates, that meant that we would begin our pre-academy training in San Diego, California, with all eight of us assigned to the Boulevard Station. We also had classmates who were going through the same in-processing in El Centro and El Paso Sectors, representing several different stations in each sector. While our first two days of in-processing were somewhat typical, the third would prove to shape us as people as well as to define us as a class.

I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001 in my hotel room in Chula Vista, California and began getting ready to report to Sector Headquarters for another routine day. I had ESPN on in the background while I packed up my bags and the rumor of Michael Jordan coming out of retirement was the big headline. After 5:46 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, no one anywhere in the country would be thinking much about basketball. For me, that’s when my classmate knocked on my door and asked if I was watching the news. “Yeah,” I said, “Jordan’s coming back.”

“No,” he said, “not that. A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center.” I immediately pulled my suitcase to his room and then watched from the edge of a hotel bed as reporters scrambled to explain what had just happened. Was it a big plane or a small plane? Was it an accident or was it done on purpose? I then watched as the second plane hit live at approximately 6:00 a.m. PST. For me, as for most of the country, the world had just changed forever.

I don’t know what I would have done if I had been back home in Ohio. Maybe I would have stayed home from work to keep up on the latest news. But, here, I didn’t really have a choice. Our van would be arriving to pick us up in a few minutes and we would be on our way to Sector Headquarters. I remember my head spinning during the drive to SDC as I made calls to all of my family members letting them know that I was OK and ensuring that they were all safe. My older sister lived in Boston at the time and I had heard that one of the planes had left from Logan International Airport. There was some relief when I finally got through to her; but, there was still a hole in my heart as I struggled to grasp what was happening.

I remember next trying to interpret what the significance of the day: Was this day a significant anniversary of some kind or was there something else that would make this day ripe for a coordinated attack? All I could think of was that it was 9-1-1, the commonly recognized call for emergency assistance. Was this some kind of sick joke? It was 6:37 a.m. PST, when we heard over the van’s radio that a third plane had crashed into the Pentagon. All of a sudden the “why” didn’t matter. We were definitely under attack and my military mind now just wanted revenge on the people or country that was responsible. I wanted the next call I received to be from my National Guard commander telling me that my Armored Battalion was being called up to exact revenge somewhere in the world. However, that wouldn’t happen for a few more years, and even then perhaps too late to satisfy a mourning country or a Soldier’s need for revenge. We continued to San Diego Sector Headquarters in silence.

At Sector Headquarters, the mood was somber. Our in-processing was sporadic if not completely on stand-by as we were relegated to somewhat of an afterthought in light of what was happening. We spent the day just staying out of the way and trying to keep up on the latest news. From 7 to 7:30 a.m., I watched a 4-inch television precariously placed on the hood of an unmarked sedan as the Twin Towers crumbled to the ground, taking with them nearly 3000 souls. It was a helpless feeling and one that will be forever burned into my memory.

On September 12, 2001, Sector Headquarters was abuzz with a rush to get Agents alerted and mobilized for a relief effort at Ground Zero. Occasionally, someone from Sector Training would come in and tell us that they were trying to get us a military flight or charter to Glynco, Georgia; but, with each passing hour, it seemed less likely. Finally, as we neared the end of the day, we were told that all options had fallen through and that our class was going to have to be canceled until further notice. To make things even worse, since the next classes had already been slotted with potential Agents, we would be in a holding pattern for at least three more classes.

For me, this was simply not an option. I had waited patiently through a 13-month hiring process for this job offer but I refused to wait another three months for a new class to open up. We gathered a quick consensus amongst the class and told anyone who would listen at Sector Headquarters that we were willing to rent cars with our own money and drive across the country to Glynco, Georgia if we could keep our academy slots. The instructors left the room and said that they’d run that by their bosses. They didn’t seem very hopeful but I think that they saw our commitment. A few hours later, they returned with a solution. If we were willing to travel by bus from San Diego to Georgia, picking up classmates on our way, they would allow us to keep our current academy schedule. If this sounds like a crazy plan, don’t worry, it gets better. They went on to explain that they wouldn’t have time to charter a bus for us for a few more days; so, the first leg of the trip would have to be completed by Greyhound Bus. We didn’t care. By 5 o'clock the next morning, we were on our way.

At first, the bus ride was a bit of a novelty. One of my classmates, a naturalized citizen from Colombia, almost got pulled off of the bus at the Highway 94 eastbound checkpoint for stating his citizenship as “Florida.” Cooler heads eventually prevailed and we were allowed to continue on to El Centro without further incident. In El Centro, we added eight more classmates to our crew and then proceeded to El Paso, Texas, stopping at every Greyhound stop on the way to pick-up and drop-off passengers. I’m not sure what my classmates from El Paso Sector were doing while we made our way to them, but we were gathering lots of memories. One classmate fondly recalls the man rolling a joint next to him on the Greyhound and wondering whether he was obligated to take any kind of action. Another made the mistake of asking the man next to him where he was heading, only to be told that he had just crossed illegally and was on his way to find work in Arizona. When the illegal in turn asked my classmate where he was heading, he just told him that he was joining the Navy. You can’t make this stuff up. The novelty, however, quickly wore off; and, by the time we hit Texas, we were more than ready for that chartered bus.

In El Paso, we joined the remainder of our class on a chartered bus that was an obvious improvement over our Greyhound predecessor. It was also apparent, as soon as we met them, that the rest of the class had bonded just like we had in the days of waiting. A lot of fast new friendships were formed as we trekked cross country and bonded through our shared discomfort. We made the 2,500 mile trek over three days, stopping only for gas, for McDonalds, and for a few hours on the side of the road while our driver rigged up the fan belt with a bungee cord. We “slept” on the bus and spent lots of time getting to know one another. We had traveled from the States of California, Florida, Ohio, Texas, New York, and New Mexico, just to name a few. Our class was also made up of applicants of Bolivian, Colombian, Dominican, Mexican, Panamanian, and various other descents. I think that the time we spent on that bus enabled us to form the roots of a team that could see past all of these differences and would help us to make it through the academy together.

When we arrived at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC), a week later than originally scheduled, we hit the ground running. We had to work longer days than the normal academy class and we worked through our first two weekends in order to make up for the days that we had missed. It was difficult but we made it work. By the time we had settled back into the normal academy schedule, it seemed like a piece of cake compared to what we had just made it through. Our class was tight. If someone was strong in PT, they helped those who weren’t. The same rule applied to Spanish and Law. Instead of our differences causing rifts, I think that they made us stronger.

September 11, 2001, and the days and weeks that followed, was a period that was experienced uniquely by each American. For me, as I think back on it, I experienced it through a combination of hallway televisions tuned to CNN, an AM radio in my dorm room, and waiting in line at the FLETC computer lab just to get the latest news (yeah, no smart phones or wireless internet). I remember spending every break at the gym staring at a hallway television to track the latest news as media outlets continued to piece together the facts surrounding the attacks on America. At Glynco, we saw firsthand as FLETC welcomed the first classes of Federal Air Marshals to begin their training. I remember speaking to a member of FAM Class 1 who told me that they were basically making up the curriculum as they went. It was a unique place to be; and, in many ways, a fitting backdrop as we were introduced to our new jobs as guardians of America’s borders. In October, our troops moved into Afghanistan.

I can’t speak for the rest of my classmates, but for me September 11th made what I was training for that much more real and that much more important. I had always taken training seriously, but now it held a personal importance that I can’t really explain. The country was at war and I hadn’t received the call to go. Getting everything that I could out of my Border Patrol training, and making sure that my classmates did as well, was perhaps my way of “doing my part.”

In the classroom, we received all of the same training as any other Border Patrol Academy session, but always with the caveat that “all of this will probably change now that 9/11 has happened.” It was almost like everyone knew there was now going to be a whole new set of rules and that we were all going to have to weather the changes together moving forward.

For our instructors, I feel like there was a heightened sense of commitment as well. Perhaps knowing that they were training us for a post-9/11 Border Patrol had affected them, as it did me. I hope that they too hold a place in their hearts for Class 484 and what we accomplished together.

When we voted on a class motto, I found that everything we tried sounded silly in light of the times. We instead opted for the simple “Honor First.” I think that it was a nice way to acknowledge the Old Patrol as we began our move toward a Post-9/11 Patrol. We knew that changes were coming and I for one was proud to have been first in line for this new era. The Twin Towers and the eagle on the sleeve of our class T-shirt wasn’t just a patriotic gesture. It was more like a badge of honor, representing what we had lived through as a class and as a country.

In our ten short years in the Patrol, Class 484 has seen this Agency move from the Department of Justice (DOJ) and Immigration & Naturalization Service (INS) to the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and Customs and Border Protection (CBP). We have seen not only Journeyman 11’s become a reality but now the un-imagined Journeyman 12’s. We’ve seen mission statements, organizational structures, policies, badges, and uniforms change to reflect the times. We’ve seen trainees become interns and interns become trainees again and we’ve watched as the Academy was condensed from the 20 week format that we experienced to its current configuration. We watched as America was attacked on her own soil and we’ve seen two wars waged that continue to this day.

I think that we were a unique class from the beginning; but, September 11, 2001 further defined us in a way that you could only understand if you had been there. To this day, when I tell someone my class number, I often hear, “You weren’t that class that bused to the Academy, were you?” I can’t help but feel a bit of pride as I answer, “Yes.”

Class 484 began with 37 American citizens and ended with 34 Border Patrol Agents. As we approach our ten year anniversary, 30 are still Border Patrol Agents. A few have moved on to other agencies, and a few have just moved on. I credit September 11, 2001, to some degree, for our success and for our commitment to the Patrol.

Individuals from Class 484 are now spread across the Patrol and hold such titles as BORTAC, Intel, ATV, BORSTAR, Mountain Rove, SBPA, Prosecutions, K-9, Chaplain, and FTO, just to name a few. As of 2011, we can also give claim to our first Newton-Azrak recipient. But whatever it is that we’re all doing today in the Patrol, I like to think that we do it by putting “Honor First.” And I hope that that’s enough to afford us the privilege to say that we all did our part.