The Two-Mile Run through a Tunnel That is Changing Too Many Lives to Count

Stephen Siller’s Dash though the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel Inspired Tunnel to Towers

If Stephen’s Siller’s all-too-brief life seemed like a bit of a miracle, so is the legacy of a man who more than 20 years ago ran through a two-and-a-half-mile tunnel in full fireman’s gear toward a death-trap inferno to save the lives of strangers, an act that inspired the creation of a growing foundation helping scores of heroes and their families. 

Stephen Siller was the youngest of seven children born to George and Mae Siller, when she was 45. Frank, his closest sibling in age, was 14 years older; a full quarter century separated Stephen and oldest brother Russ. 

By the time Stephen celebrated his 10th birthday, both parents had passed. His siblings raised the kid considered to be a gift from heaven more like a son than a brother.     

Stephen would marry Sally, the girl he had walked to elementary school every day. They brought five wonderful children into the world. 

Storybook, by all measures, until the morning of September 11, 2001. 

Stephen had finished his overnight shift as a New York City Firefighter with Squad 1 in Brooklyn. As the sun moved higher in the brilliant blue sky, he was on his way to enjoy the glorious day golfing with brothers Frank, Russ, and George.

Driving his pickup truck from the firehouse in Park Slope to meet the crew, a bulletin crackled over his scanner. The North Tower of the World Trade Center in downtown Manhattan was on fire. A twin-engine commercial airliner had been purposely flown into the skyscraper. Seventeen minutes later, the South Tower was hit. 

FDNY issued a rare “recall” – all members were to immediately report to their company for further orders.

By that time, Stephen had already turned around and sped towards lower Manhattan. He found the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel closed to traffic. In a state of confused chaos, gut-punched America was on war footing, and access to the island was blocked off. The 34-year-old firefighter pulled over, strapped on 60 pounds of gear, and ran into North America’s longest continuous underwater vehicular tunnel.

On the Manhattan side he emerged to see fluttering papers and office building detritus floating in the air. The upper floors of the rectangular towers, the two tallest buildings when completed in 1971, were angrily ablaze. Every few moments, a rice-shaped object would appear high in the sky, above the fire line, then plunge downward. Rather than burn or choke to death, people were choosing to jump from the buildings.   

It is believed Stephen dashed into the South Tower, hit by United Airlines flight 175 from Boston and where 11 of his brothers from Squad 1 were recovered. Stephen’s remains were never found.

The worst terrorist attack in the history of terrorism was intensely personal for the Siller family like so many others. When the first tower collapsed on live television, it dawned on Frank that he probably lost his brother. 

“I just knew Stephen’s mindset,” he said. “He’d be there. That’s who he was.”

Brothers and sisters began to gather at Frank Siller’s house in Staten Island to watch the televised coverage of a horrific scene unfolding downtown. The family left message after message on Stephen’s cell phone. Finally, a firefighter called to inform Frank that his kid brother’s name was on a list of missing fire fighters from 75 firehouses across the city.

“I was told anyone on that list was not coming home,” Frank said. He passed on the gut-wrenching news. 

Gina unleashed a pained wail that stays with Frank to this day. The siblings dropped to their knees onto the carpet holding one another.

Frank would go to the smoldering pile to look for his brother, digging through the jagged rubble with firefighters and first responders who rushed in from all corners of the county. He found material for nightmares but not Stephen. 

Almost immediately, the Siller family decided to do something. Their parents were Franciscans, instilling St. Francis Assisi’s teaching “while we have time, let us do good.” 

Learning that Stephen had run through the tunnel, one of 343 individual stories of ultimate heroism that day to safely evacuate more than 25,000 people, the largest rescue operation in United States history, the idea for Tunnel to Towers began to form.

“Our first mission is to make sure we never forget – what my brother did, what so many other heroes did that day,” said Frank Siller, Founder and Chairman for Tunnel to Towers, to this day, an unpaid, volunteer position just like his brother George, Vice Chair of the organization. “We want to honor their sacrifice and the best way to do that is by doing good.” 

T2T does that by paying off the home mortgages of fallen first responders, and active-duty service members, killed in the line of duty, leaving grieving families behind. 

“When someone gives that last kiss and never comes home, we want to make sure we take care of their families,” Siller said. 

The organization also funds the building of mortgage-free smart homes for military members suffering catastrophic injuries in the line of duty.

That’s the kind of home that Lance Corporal Patrick Myers received.

Flint Rasmussen of PBR interviewed Patrick Myers during PBR World Finals in Fort Worth /

Myers enlisted in the Marine Corps in 2003. His father, an army veteran, had discouraged his son from military service. When 18-year-old Patrick told his dad he was thinking of the Marines, his dad said he’d never make it through basic training.  

That lit a fire.

“If you doubt me, I’ll go hard to prove you wrong,” he said.

In Iraq he was serving as PSD – Personal Security Detail – an elite bodyguard for a Sergeant Major and Colonel.

On the morning of November 9, 2005, Cpl Myers had a premonition he couldn’t shake. Something bad was going to go down.

His orders were to drive the armored vehicle, only the second time he’d be driving. Often rolling in minimal protection, only weeks from going home, he put on every piece of equipment he had. 

Outside of Al Qa’im, an Iraqi border town about 250 miles northwest of Baghdad near the Syrian Border, his Humvee was ambushed and blown up. Myers lost both legs above the knee and incurred a traumatic brain injury, internal bleeding, a broken back, collapsed lungs and PTSD. 

The Humvee Cpl Myers was driving. /

Waking up in Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, Myers asked his mother if he still had his junk. His mother had to go check what that meant. She then reported to her son, “Yes, you still have your junk.”

While recovering and learning to live without legs, what pissed him off most was that he could no longer be a Marine.  

Beyond that was finding dignity when struggling to go to the bathroom or being unable to cook at a stove. 

But Myers wasn’t one to complain. Or seek help. Like many servicemen suffering catastrophic injuries, he was proud and stubborn. He preferred to assist others rather than ask for a hand. 

“We (injured vets) need help, even though we don’t know it,” he said. 

Finally, his wife called Tunnel to Towers. Within hours, the couple and their five kids were approved for a smart home. 

That’s right: the family was fast tracked for a beautiful new mortgage-free house quicker than it takes most of us to score a routine doctor’s appointment. 

Frank Siller, the man who had received that awful phone call about his brother, called Myers to relay the news. 

The Myers family, who now consider T2T their extended family, moved into the high-tech abode in Glenrose, Texas, 55 miles southwest of Fort Worth, last May.  

He’s cooking at the retractable stove. He turns on the thermostat, lights and security system from his phone. He watches deer in the yard. In nearly a year, he hasn’t figured out all the buttons on the toilet, but he knows enough to make the trip to the loo one no longer dreaded.

For many, Frank Siller is like a well-meaning neighbor, familiar from those ubiquitous direct-response TV ads projecting an earnest, likable, trustworthy advocate for salt-of-the-earth people in need.

His tireless push for first responders has made Tunnel to Towers, according to the National Review, “a lambent example of our civil society working just as Mr. Tocqueville had imagined it might: spontaneously bonded groups of citizens seeing a need, and then, after gathering private resources, delivering essential services to their fellow citizens, all of it government-involvement-free.”

To date, Tunnel to Towers has delivered or is in the process of delivering more than 1,200 mortgage-free homes to our nation’s heroes. They’ve committed more than $500 million across their programs, which now include K-12 curriculum with testimonials from 9/11 first responders, survivors, and their loved ones; the 9/11 NEVER FORGET Mobile Exhibit, a high-tech tractor-trailer with 9/11 artifacts and guided tours from retired FDNY members; and a national program to eradicate homelessness in the veteran community.

The Foundation has the highest rating, four stars, from Charity Navigator, the nation’s largest and most-utilized evaluator of charities. Over 95 cents of every dollar donated to the Foundation goes directly to its programs. 

In addition to asking for $11 per month, the organization raises money through special events like charity runs, stair climbs, stadium climbs and concerts. 

One of those special shows took place Tuesday night during PBR World Finals, partnering with the bull riding organization for the “Never Forget Concert” at the world-famous Billy Bob’s Honky Tonk in Fort Worth, headlined by Jelly Roll with special guest Lainey Wilson.

Following 9.11, Frank Siller found it hard to get out of bed in the morning. But he remembers how his brother lived, is inspired by his spirit, and knows what he’d want for the family that raised him. 

“I know my brother wouldn’t want us to be sad the rest of our lives,” he said. “Through this horror, he’d want us to do some good and have some fun.”  

The Sillers will never get over their brother’s passing. They’ve learned to live with the grief. Doing good, showing widowers they care, easing their financial burdens, and making life more comfortable and able to navigate for double-, triple- and quadruple-amputee veterans as well as homeless vets, helps ease their pain.  

Their Franciscan parents taught them life is a precious gift, and then Stephen Siller came on the scene to prove the point. He understood the miracle frailty of life. He was willing to trade his gift so others could have theirs.

We can only piece together what is believed to be Stephen Siller’s final actions on the morning of September 11 after he entered that long dark empty tunnel. 

But those who knew him are sure about one thing. If today presented the same choice, he’d do the same thing. He’d park his truck, strap on his heavy gear, and go full steam into the belly of danger.  

Stephen’s choice, the choices of 343 firefighters and 71 police officers that awful day in New York, the choices of the passengers on United Flight 93 brought down in Shanksville, Pa., and the choices all first responders and members of the military make every day, some turning out to be their last, are not in vain. 

Frank Siller and his likeminded army are making sure we never forget that, while making it easy for us to take care of the families of those who run without hesitation toward the flames, leaving us to grieve, give thanks, and offer hope to the next generation.

Please help by donating eleven dollars a month at T2T.org