ARLINGTON -- Nearly a year after American Airlines Flight 77 smashed into the Pentagon, killing 189 people, the five-sided headquarters of the U.S. Department of Defense is a different place.

The transformation has been gradual. As the building is rebuilt and its occupants recover physically and mentally, the tragedy has become many things -- bond, motivation, even the stuff of miracles.

But life goes on.

"Perhaps rightfully so, it's almost business as usual," said David Theall, a public affairs specialist who narrowly escaped a huge fireball after being blown through a wall Sept. 11. "More and more things are returning to normal."

It's taken tremendous effort, however, because as John Donavan, senior civilian adviser to the Chief of Public Affairs, said, "People who work here spend a tremendous amount of time here." And the building is awash in reminders.

The halls are decorated with cards and notes from schoolchildren. A temporary memorial bears witness to the dead with 1,000 paper cranes designed into an American flag, a book of biographical information on the lost, and shining medals, including the Purple Heart, awarded all the victims posthumously.

The memorial and its trappings will move to a new chapel, still under construction, near the damaged portion. The construction crews, too, serve as a reminder, as do the heightened security and tightened access, the reassignment of offices in the rebuilt section, and the redesign of the Pentagon's bus station and Metro subway entrance.

No one is unaffected in the tight-knit community that makes up the world's largest office building -- with some 23,000 workers, and 3,000 more part-time employees in the banks, stores and restaurants lining its commercial outer ring.

"This is more than a building; it's fondly referred to as THE building," said Army spokeswoman Elaine Kanellis. "It's kind of like church ... what makes it is the people."

And the people, it seems, have returned to business. Donavan said that in Sept. 11's aftermath, workers at the Pentagon were very open to counseling and psychological help.

"People were willing," he said. "They wanted it. It was like, 'Yes. Yes, I do want counseling.' It's such a heavy burden that people knew they needed help.

"There's been a lot of bonding, that's been the most profound thing," he said. "When you go through something like that it stays with you. ... People who've been through this will always be close and will probably always overlook whatever differences they'll have because of what they have in common now.

"I think there's a different feeling here," Donavan said. "I don't think there are profound changes. I don't think you can say, 'Oh, everyone's gung ho' now. I think it's very subtle ... people are hurt or grieving still. People have a better understanding of human nature and probably a better understanding of other people. They're more tolerant now."

Msgr. Philip Hill, a Catholic chaplain and executive officer of the Army's Office of the Chief of Chaplains, agreed: "We have taken a lot less for granted (since Sept. 11)."

"There's more interest in the people inside than the place itself," he said. "Before we did our jobs as usual. We dealt mostly with a small circle of associates and friends. Now, all ... are kind of connected in some way."

Kanellis, who escaped the Pentagon on Sept. 11 while more than eight months pregnant, said, "People appreciate others more now."

"You greet people differently," she said, because "you don't know what's going to happen. You're not promised tomorrow."

"After 9/11, morale has improved, as far as I can see," said Paul Brady, program analyst for the Navy's anti-drug task force. "All of us ... are going through grief, or loss or anger and so on."

Brady, who escaped the wreckage Sept. 11 via what he sees as a miracle -- a hole opened in a solid concrete wall -- said it wasn't always evident, though, because the military experience provides a unique perspective on life and death.

"It's second nature to see and expect at any time something like this to happen," he said. "It's carried over into my life and I would say the same is true of any of my military colleagues. ... I'm not afraid. I don't walk around looking over my shoulder."

Kanellis said, though, that "people are a little more skittish."

"If they hear a plane flying overhead or hear a loud noise," she said, "they tend to get nervous and look at each other."

Donavan said there was a burst of spirituality after the attack, especially at an interfaith memorial service held at the Pentagon immediately after Sept. 11, but it has leveled off somewhat since.

Dominican Father Aaron Joseph Cote, who sometimes helps out at the Pentagon as part of his work at nearby St. Dominic's Church in Southwest Washington, said the service was emotionally charged and focused on "the pain that a lot of people were experiencing at the time, and the loss."