Tom Burnett, father of passenger Tom Burnett Jr., looks at that same arc of maple trees for the Flight 93 National Memorial and sees a red crescent - a symbol of Islam. Because of that association, Burnett calls the design "tainted" and vows to keep his son's name from the park's memorial wall.

The dispute over the design, which started after the winning entry was announced in 2005, was reignited by Burnett last month, before the sixth anniversary of the terrorist attacks.

But even so, plans are quietly taking shape for a grand tribute to honor the 40 men and women who lost their lives in what, many believe, was the first battle in the war on terror.

Since its designation by Congress in 2002, the park in southwestern Pennsylvania's Laurel Highlands has been troubled by slow fund-raising, threats to its federal funding, environmental hazards, and difficulty buying the land.

Still, supporters are confident the park will open on Sept. 11, 2011, the 10th anniversary of the attack.

When done, the memorial will hold a unique place in National Park Service history.

"There has never been a National Park Service area designed through an international competition as an entire unit before," said John Reynolds, chairman of the Flight 93 Advisory Commission and a former regional park service director.

Scarred by decades of coal mining, the landscape has a stark beauty that shifts with the high-altitude weather.

Here the forest was stripped, leaving a barren field and acid ponds of mine waste. The most prominent landmark, a huge rusted drag line, towers over the site.

To Murdoch, a Los Angeles architect whose proposal for the park was selected from more than 1,000 entries, the raw, industrial landscape - disfigured again by the terrorist attack - is integral to the story.

"The violation to the land is part of its history," said Murdoch, while giving a reporter in July the first media tour of the site. "The character of the land is integral to the experience of the memorial park."

Murdoch sees his approach, with its massive use of native trees and plants, as a path toward healing the land and, with it, the spirit of a wounded nation.

His plan encompasses 1,300 acres of the park (the remaining 900 acres will be a buffer zone to prevent development). It features elements rich with symbolism and crafted to blend with nature.

A carillon, 93 feet high, called the Tower of Voices will mark the entry. Its chimes will represent the voices of the passengers, whose gripping last words to loved ones captured the terror of their final minutes.

"Their last memory was voices on the phone," said Murdoch.

Two 40-foot-high walls - the altitude of the Boeing 757 just before impact - will open onto a viewing area of the "sacred ground," the final resting place of those on board.

A visitors' center will house artifacts collected at the site and exhibits on the attack.

"We wanted a design that would tell the story for succeeding generations about what happened that day, not just for those who lived through it," said Ed Root, who served on the final competition jury and whose cousin, Lorraine Bay, was a flight attendant on the plane.

"You can't tell the Shanksville story in a vacuum. You have to tie it in to what happened everywhere else, and do it in a setting that takes advantage of the landscape and beauty of the area."