Twenty years ago a Delta 727 crashed during takeoff at DFW. I was in the vicinity and had to go to the airport for work. As I pulled over on the shoulder of International Parkway I saw the most surreal sight in my life. There in the middle of a field was a huge jet on its belly and broken in two. No evidence of fire, but smoke was coming out from both sides and mixing with the dust that had yet to settle. A triage tent had just been set up, though I didn't know where it came from as there were no vehicles in sight. Sirens! Here came one fire truck followed by one ambulance. The chain link fence was no match for the fire truck. Off in the field one man was just wandering as if in a daze. A few others had stumbled out but were near the plane and appeared dazed as well. A strange longing between wanting to stay and watch and wanting to leave pulled at me. The necessity of work prevailed and I left.
To use airline jargon, 14 "souls" were lost that day.