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"Today Is the Day — Move!" — Rick Rescorla, the Man Who Saved 2,687 Lives on 9/11
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"Today Is the Day — Move!" — Rick Rescorla, the Man Who Saved 2,687 Lives on 9/11

On September 11, 2001, Morgan Stanley's security chief Rick Rescorla ignored the order to stay put, sang songs to keep people calm, and evacuated nearly all 2,687 employees from the South Tower of the World Trade Center. He went back inside to search for stragglers and never came out.

Jun 1, 20266min read

"Today Is the Day — Move!" — Rick Rescorla, the Forgotten Hero of 9/11

A Soldier's Beginning

Cyril Richard "Rick" Rescorla was born in 1939 in Hayle, Cornwall, England. Drawn to service from a young age, he joined the British Army and served in Cyprus and Rhodesia before emigrating to the United States and enlisting in the U.S. Army. During the Vietnam War, he served as a platoon leader with the 2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment at the legendary Battle of Ia Drang Valley in November 1965 — one of the first major engagements between American and North Vietnamese forces.

In the chaos of that jungle battlefield, Rescorla did something extraordinary. To steady his terrified men, he sang — old Cornish folk songs, Welsh hymns, anything to drown out the fear. A now-iconic photograph captured him mid-stride, bayonet fixed, mouth open in song. That image became the cover of the bestselling book We Were Soldiers Once… and Young by Lt. Gen. Harold Moore and journalist Joe Galloway.

From the Jungle to the Twin Towers

After Vietnam, Rescorla earned American citizenship, completed law school and a master's degree, and eventually became Vice President of Security for Morgan Stanley Dean Witter at the World Trade Center in New York City. Morgan Stanley was the largest tenant in the South Tower, occupying floors 43 through 74, with roughly 2,700 employees reporting to work there each day.

When a truck bomb detonated in the WTC's underground parking garage on February 26, 1993, killing six people, most tenants treated it as a freak event unlikely to recur. Rescorla did not. Together with his close friend and fellow veteran Dan Hill, he conducted a vulnerability assessment of the complex. Their chilling conclusion: the next attack would come from the air — a cargo plane or hijacked jet aimed at the upper floors.

Rescorla formally warned the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey and recommended relocation. He was dismissed. He urged Morgan Stanley's leadership to move to New Jersey. Lease obligations delayed the decision. So Rescorla did the only thing left within his power: he made sure every single employee knew how to get out of the building, fast.

The Drills Everyone Hated

He instituted quarterly, unannounced, full-building evacuation drills. Traders lost precious minutes; executives fumed; colleagues rolled their eyes. Rescorla was unyielding. His rules were simple and non-negotiable:

  1. When the alarm sounds, you have 15 seconds to leave your desk.
  2. You walk — never run — to the nearest stairwell.
  3. You follow the buddy system: no one is left behind.

Over the years those drills became muscle memory. Employees could navigate from the 73rd floor to the lobby almost on autopilot.

September 11, 2001

At 8:46 a.m., American Airlines Flight 11 struck the North Tower. Minutes later, the Port Authority broadcast an announcement over the South Tower's PA system: "Your building is secure. Please remain at your desks."

Almost every company in the South Tower obeyed.

Rick Rescorla grabbed his bullhorn, his walkie-talkie, and his cell phone, and stepped into the middle of Morgan Stanley's trading floor on the 22nd floor. "Today is the day. This is what we've trained for. Everyone move, now!"

Without hesitation, employees rose from their desks and filed into the stairwells — exactly as they had rehearsed dozens of times. As the streams of people descended, Rescorla moved between floors, bullhorn in hand. And just as he had done 36 years earlier in the jungles of Vietnam, he sang. "Men of Harlech." "God Bless America." His calm baritone echoed through the concrete stairwells, cutting through panic, steadying hearts.

At 9:03 a.m., United Airlines Flight 175 slammed into the South Tower between floors 77 and 85 — directly above Morgan Stanley's offices. The building shuddered. Glass shattered. Lights flickered. But the evacuation was already well underway.

The Last Phone Call

With most employees safely out, Rescorla called his wife Susan. "Stop crying," he told her gently. "I have to get these people out safely. If something happens to me, I want you to know that you made my life."

Colleagues saw him heading back up around the 10th floor. There might still be stragglers — someone in a restroom, someone who hadn't heard the alarm, someone frozen with fear. He would not leave until he was certain.

At 9:59 a.m., the South Tower collapsed.

2,687 Lives Saved, One Life Given

When the count was finally tallied, 2,687 Morgan Stanley employees had survived. Only 13 were lost — including Rick Rescorla himself, along with two of his security team members who had stayed behind with him. In a building where the largest single corporate tenant could have suffered catastrophic losses, Rescorla's years of preparation reduced the death toll to a fraction of what it might have been.

His remains were never recovered.

Legacy

Rick Rescorla's story was told in the 2006 documentary The Man Who Predicted 9/11 and in James B. Stewart's nonfiction book Heart of a Soldier. In 2021, a campaign was launched to award Rescorla the Congressional Gold Medal; bipartisan legislation was introduced in Congress. Fort Benning's guest lodge was renamed Rescorla Hall in his honor.

Susan Rescorla spent the following years ensuring her husband's legacy endured, speaking at schools, first-responder training sessions, and military events. She emphasized the lesson Rick had lived and died by:

"Preparation saves lives. Predict the worst. Train for the best response. And when the moment comes — act."

Why This Story Still Matters

In an age of ever-present threats and chronic complacency, Rick Rescorla's life is a reminder that courage is not merely a reaction to crisis — it is the result of years of unglamorous, often ridiculed preparation. He foresaw the unthinkable, drilled for the impossible, and when the world literally collapsed around him, he walked back into the fire — singing.

Somewhere tonight, 2,687 families will sit down to dinner together. Children who were toddlers in 2001 are now raising families of their own. Grandchildren have been born who will never know the man who made their existence possible.

All because one man refused to stop climbing the stairs.

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