Photographer tells of carnage and courage in Boston
BOSTON: What happened on April 15 is not something you mentally prepare for.
The first explosion was less than a minute after I had photographed a Tufts University runner crossing the finish line.
There was some confusion as to what had happened.
I thought it was a cannon, much like we hear every Fourth of July at the Boston Pops concert on the Esplanade. No one seemed quite sure what had happened.
Then the second blast went off, further down Boylston Street.
Pandemonium erupted as spectators knocked over the crowdcontrol barriers and scattered.
I took a few pictures of the injured emerging from the smoke on wheelchairs.
I couldn’t see much through the haze, so I ran up to the photo bridge, suspended above the finish line, to get a better view.
At heart, I am a photojournalist, having worked for newspapers and wire services for the better part of the past 10 years.
We often ask ourselves how we would react in a tough situation, because invariably, we end up covering fires, shootings and other tragedies.
This was different, though, and I had no idea what I would see from the top of the bridge. Right away I knew it was bad. I saw people with horrendous injuries, one in particular that was difficult for me to look at, or photograph. The man, later identified as Jeff Bauman, had lost both legs below the knee and was being carted away on a wheelchair as peace activist Carlos Arredondo sprinted beside him, applying tourniquets to both limbs.
The response from emergency personnel and bystanders was impressive, a description that even now seems inadequate, given what they did.
Those who ran toward the blast scene, without giving thought to their own safety, easily outnumbered the victims, three to one.
Every single one of those people is my hero.
We were evacuated off the bridge soon after, at which point I SMSed my mom that I was okay