“God,” he prayed, “help us all out of this somehow.”

Suddenly a gut feeling told him to call his parents. He quickly
dialed the number and heard the calm, reasoned voice of his father. It
was the same voice that had always soothed his fears. How he hoped
this would not be the last time he ever heard it.

“Roberts’ residence.”

“Dad, it’s Lyle.”

“Hey, are you in Los Angeles already? We were just calling the
airlines to make our reservations.”

“Dad, forget that now. Listen, I am on flight 11 out of Logan Air
Force Base. We have been hijacked and something tells me that I need
to say goodbye to you and mom.”

Lyle could hear Aaron’s breath suddenly stop.

“Dad, I think they are going to kill us. I just saw them shoot a
couple of women.” He was fighting to keep his composure. “Call
every police agency you can. And, dad, I need to tell you and mom
that I love you.”

Lyle could tell that Aaron was choking back tears.

“OK, son, I will. And we love you, too. I won’t put your mom on
right now. I don’t think she could handle it. But I will tell her.”

“Thanks, dad.” Lyle was in tears now also. “Tell Chels, too.”

“I will, son.”

“I love you. Goodbye, dad.”

Aaron’s voice broke as he said, “Goodbye, son”.

Lyle hung up and could see that the hijackers were now huddled
together toward the front of the plane. He took another look outside
the window and was taken aback to see that the plane was over New
York. He could see the North Tower of the world Trade Center
looming directly in front of the airplane. Normally it would be a
thrilling sight, but the tower was getting closer and closer and Lyle
could see no runway in sight. Suddenly he knew what was about to
happen. Before he could react, he felt the jolt as the cockpit entered
the side of the building. With his last words, he uttered, ‘Take me
home, Lord Jesus.’ Then he heard an explosion, felt sweltering heat
engulf his body, and everything went black. The time was 8:47 A.M.
The date was September 11, 2001.