The terrorists attacked and a bewildered nation mourned.

There was seething anger and insurmountable sadness. But for thousands in New York, Washington D.C. and near Shanksville, Pa. there was work to be done.

As we watched in stunned disbelief, the twin towers crumbled, and dust devoured New York City and our thoughts. Thousands died and that meant the unenviable task of identifying victims was at hand.

Paul Bostrom, who was the Montezuma County Coroner for 21 years, felt a tremendous obligation to help. And he did.

“A sense of responsibility was a driving force for me,” he said.

On Oct. 16, 34 days after heart surgery, Bostrom was on a plane to New York City to join the army of volunteers who came to help.

Now 71 and 10 years later, Bostrom reflected on his time in New York following the Sept. 11 attacks.

He was part of the Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team, which has 12 districts across the U.S. It would be their job to help identify thousands of victims killed at the World Trade Center.

It was a massive effort difficult to comprehend.

“We were there to support and provide manpower to the medical examiner of New York City,” Bostrom said.

As crews sifted through the rubble of the twin towers searching for victims, Bostrom and countless others worked 12-hour shifts in the medical examiner’s office.

In charge of handling and filing X-rays, Bostrom was part of an enormous medical records team. Everyone had a job to do, every job was a vital cog in the effort to identify bodies and bring a slice of closure to their families.

“Right from the beginning of a disaster you have to control the flow of information. Organization is so important,” he said.

Using words like chaos and overwhelming, Bostrom said the job was relentless.

He wasn’t involved in the final identification process but the scale of the 24-7 operation was immense.

Attention to detail was imperative to keep track of the thousands of X-rays and files he had to handle.

There was an office of volunteers working around the clock writing letters asking dentists, doctors and family members for information to help ID victims.

Dental and X-rays records as well as information on tattoos and scars would be the link that would lead to identification.

“I was so focused on the attention to detail that the big picture was out of focus,” Bostrom reflected.

The big picture was the surreal scene of rubble, loss of life and the incomprehensible evil that stunned us all.

It was that focus that kept Bostrom’s mind busy and helped subdue his thoughts from drifting away to why he was there.

“I would have to stuff my emotions,” he said bluntly.

But there were times when more bodies arrived that the emotions would start to unstuff.

“I would think about what if this was my family, and I was so relieved that this didn’t hit me personally. I tried to put myself in the shoes of those who had lost a family member in this disaster. But I couldn’t do it. I had to stuff the emotions,” he said.

He paused thinking about those grueling days and summed up how he coped.

“I’ve got a job to do and I have to do it. That’s the way I had to think,” he said.

In all, Bostrom was there for 28 days, with just one weekend off.

Whether it was from the colossal, unrelenting job or when those emotions started to break loose, Bostrom said there were times he had to just get away. A walk around the block, a cup of coffee or just a time of reflection.

But always keeping those emotions stuffed and the focus on the job at hand.

The Salvation Army and Red Cross provided tremendous support, he said.

They served meals, coffee and set up rest tents for the workers to grab some down time. They even had counselors standing by in case a worker needed someone to talk it out with.

Bostrom, who went to medical school in New York City, talked about the respect and care that was taken in how the victims were treated and eventually identified.

One of the most striking things he witnessed was how the remains of firefighters and law enforcement victims were handled.

“Every time a (victim) was delivered from Ground Zero, and it was suspected to be a fireman or law enforcement, they had a team that did a ceremony of honor before the remains were taken into the morgue,” he said.

Bostrom said he always felt the burden and the obligation to all those families who lost loved ones.

“I had a real feeling of satisfaction. I was part of a team that had an important job to do and we got it done.”

Looking back, Bostrom, who is now an interruptive park ranger at Mesa Verde, can’t believe how much the world has changed since Sept. 11, 2001.

He will always be proud of his work in New York City as the nation tried to process the unfathomable horror that shook our country on 9-11.

When he left after a month, exhausted and spent, he knew that the job was far from over.

“I don’t know how the medical examiner of New York City got through that experience month after month after month.”

For Paul Bostrom, a sense of responsibility called him to action and he joined a team that had monumental task to complete. He had a job to do and he got the job done. A sad, gloomy job but one that had to be done.

He pauses again, as he reflects on that time a decade ago.

“I just hope it never happens again,” he said.

Hope is something that will never crumble.