It was a dress rehearsal for another New York City nightmare.

The call went out around 10:30, on the quiet Sunday morning of April 26: a chemical terror attack in the Broad Street subway, just down the block from the New York Stock Exchange.

In all, 20 fire and 16 Emergency Services units, along with hundreds of emergency response workers, would fill the narrow streets near the Exchange. The first firefighters descended into the smoky station, equipped only with respirators and their regular gear. On the way down, sick and choking volunteer “passengers” were coming up, gasping for air. A pretend hell awaited the firefighters on the platform, hardly visible at first through the machine-generated smoke that filled the station. The dead and dying—half naked dummies—lay scattered all around. Minutes later, more firefighters were on the scene, donning brightly colored hazmat (hazardous materials) suits and looking like subterranean aliens as they ventured through the station. Along with their rescue

duties, some of the firefighters measured gas and radiation levels. Communication seemed like the biggest problem as firefighters had to pull their arms from sleeves to operate radios. “Working in a hazmat suit is restrictive,” said one rescuer, “but once you get used to it, you’re able to do what you need to do.” Back on the street, the firefighters went through triple decontamination: an initial spraying followed by a high pressure blast from three pumpers and, finally, another hosing and scrub-down. Ammonia was poured onto the victims.
By about noon, the rescuers in their strange suits were gone, the volunteer victims were having lunch, and Broad Street was looking like nothing had ever happened. Hopefully, nothing ever will.