Near Miss

    As I mentioned previously, driving fire apparatus is in fact as much fun as you may think, and can be, by civilian terms, just as dangerous. But to us, it's just another jaunt in a fire truck. One ride across town is no different than any other, you get in, fire up the rig wait for the rest of the guys and then off you go, ducking & weaving through traffic until you get to the scene.....most of the time. 

  The "other" times....well, let's just say they tend to be a little more exciting in that your not quite sure how you made it without at least trading paint with a civilian vehicle, or at times, even another fire truck.

  Now to firefighters like myself, who have spent countless hours behind the wheel maneuvering through a town with some of the heaviest traffic in the area, including the second busiest intersection in the state, driving for a decent length on the wrong side of the road, or even driving right down the yellow lines (parting the Red Sea as we call it)  is not all that uncommon.  Sure, it's a little tight, and occasionally a civilian car looses a side mirror but an extreme vast majority of the time we all make it unscathed. 

  The traffic in town was always bad.....and during the holidays it can take 45 min to go 3 miles. 

I've had "Ride-A-Longs" (if you can really call them that) from FDNY who've said it's by far some if the worst traffic they've seen. (I wouldn't believe it either had I not heard it with my own ears) So, the reason we drive in that fashion is simple. There's just no other way. 

  I guess you could describe it as necessary, some what controlled chaos.  Both the driver and the officer are constantly scanning the roads. The officer, along with mentally planning out how you'll work the job your responding too based on the limited information he has as he's also flipping through a 4" thick map book to find directions, hydrant locations, standpipe locations any fire pre plans for the address as well as calling out traffic as you approach intersections..... "CLEAR RIGHT, CLEAR RIGHT!"  

  The chauffeur (apparatus driver) is also constantly scanning the road, looking for those motorist who aren't paying attention and seem to be patiently waiting to pull out into traffic until your practically on top of them. Not to mention planning ahead for a course of action for when one of those idiots actually does pull out in front of you. And I know what your thinking...."your in a big ass fire truck with all these flashing lights and a screaming siren, how do they not see you!?"  

 That's a damn good question. 

It's amazing how oblivious civilians are to what's going on around them when they're riding in their cars.

   Now to aid us in maneuvering traffic our rigs are equipped with an "opticom" system. Basically it's a special high intensity Strohm out on top of the rig that flashes towards a sensor that hangs from the traffic light. When the sensor picks up behind Tensity strobe it knows from which direction you're approaching The intersection so it cycles through and gives you the green light so you can proceed. It's a pretty cool system but it's not without its flaws and if you ask most guys that drive rigs we would rather it makes the entire intersection red but some pencil pusher behind a desk somewhere thinks this is better. But i'm not sure it matters either way because civilians around here I have a habit of ignoring red lights to begin with. 

    I remember one call for natural gas in a house.....I was wheeling the wagon (driving the engine) it was Christmas shopping season so traffic was way more ridiculous than usual as I approached "the" major intersection in town. My lanes of traffic were stopped because of the red light but I knew that once I "trip the light" and make it green, I'll never be able to make the right at the intersection because all the stopped cars would now be crossing where I need to turn....so on-coming traffic it is. Having to only dodge one or two on-coming cars, I can get to the light before it cycles through and turns green, make the right in front of stopped traffic before they start moving and then just continue on my way....sounds like a plan. So I yell to the guys on the rig "Crossing over" so they can brace for the bumps and then up over the center median divider I go in to on comming traffic, which when approaching this intersection isn't anything new.

I stay in the oncoming fast lane and the two were three vehicles coming at me moving to their slow lane and we pass uneventfully. I then started to approach the intersection and begin slowing so that I could make the right when my opticom finally tripped the light & gave me the green. So I proceeded to pull out to make the right-hand turn and just as I'm pulling into cross traffic lanes, a minivan coming from my left blows through the red light and cuts right in front of me, inches (probably less) from my bumper. Close enough that I could see the looks and the details on the faces of her three kids in the back seats. 

  We made it to the call & controlled the gas leak then back to he station we went, where I went upstairs an puked. 

   To this day I don't know how the hell I didn't hit them.....good breaks I guess.....damn good breaks. 

   Civilians aren't the only stupid drivers on the road.....other emergency vehicle drivers can be just as dumb.

  As mentioned above, we used the opticom system to help navigate through intersections. And there are dept rules for it. For example, when two emergency vehicles approach the same intersection, he who has the opticom has the right-of-way. This rule is beat into your head the day you start learning to drive the rigs. It's a fairly simple rule and since the opticom has a "acknowledge" light that flashes in the direction from which the light was tripped it's pretty easy to tell if you "have the com" before the light turned green. And if you don't "have the com" you don't get flaming "acknowledge" light. Sounds pretty simple but unfortunately, people don't always follow the rule. 

  We were going to a small fire in an apartment together and of town one day and I was driving our second engine. The "deuce" as she was often referred to, was fairly big for being an engine but for her size (38') she was pretty quick and pretty nimble. So I'm driving the deuce down the main drag of town, it's rush hour and  traffic is normally a little thick so I'm back and forth on the yellow lines. I have eventually get a clear turning lane running right down the middle of the road and decide to travel that because it often  doubles as a handy impromptu emergency vehicle lane. 

  So I'm cruising along at about 35 or 40 miles an hour down "my lane" as I approach the next light and notice that I "have the com." I take my foot off the gas and let the Jake brake kick in to slow down a little bit before I reach the intersection and just as I reach the intersection, out of the blue from the right comes an engine from station 6.....they blew the light....and they were hauling ass. With traffic all around my only choices were lock em up or swerve and take out civilians.  It was all I could do to slam my foot on the break, throw the automatic transmission into first gear, hold it straight and hope for the best. The front end of the engine lurched down scraping the tow hooks underneath on the pavement and the back wheels locked up with that God awful howl of large screeching tires. I specifically remember thinking "this is gonna hurt" and then bracing for impact.

.....this was going to be bad.....really bad. 

  The whole thing was almost like it happened in slow motion, seeing the engine come up from the right and make the turn right in front of me.....I could read the gauges on his pump panel, see the dirt along the edge of their reflective stripe....and then, the tire screeching stopped and the wagon sort of rocked back and forth a little and we realized,  somehow by the grace of God we didn't hit them.  To say it was close doesn't even begin to describe how close. How there wasn't $1 million worth of fire trucks and 12 fireman strewn all about the intersection is beyond me.

     But somehow, we were OK....and now, I was pissed..REALLY pissed. I reached over and snatched the radio mic out Dinger's hand, He was the guy riding the (officers) seat. He had grabbed it in that two or three second window in which we almost plowed into engine six so that he could call for assistance after the apparent ensuing accident was over....luckily he never had to make the call. 

   I grabbed the mic, keyed it up (push the button to transmit) and mother fucked who ever was driving engine 6 up one side and down the other. This guy had just put the lives of my crew, The lives of his crew in the lives of numerous civilians in jeopardy....to say I was pissed would be a huge understatement.

Now, was it warranted.....you damn skippy.....Was it the professional thing to do? Absolutely not.

    Anyway, after our near miss we continue on to the fire following the engine that almost killed us which just made my blood boil that much more.

   We turned into the apartment complex and call approaching, It was a small fire and it was now reported out so we're given orders to standby in the parking lot.  I pull down into the parking lot and no sooner did I get my parking brake set and I whip open the drivers door.

  Dinger turns to the guys in the back and says "Will somebody grab him before he ends up in jail..." Dinger knew I was pissed. 

   Then, as I'm halfway out the door it's somewhat push closed on me so I turned and look. Standing there holding the door is Lurch, our assistant chief.

 "Where you going?" he asks

So I tell him "I'm going to go have a few words with 6's chauffeur." 

 He politely spun me around and pushes me back into the driver seat, "No, you're not....I'll take care of this..."

 What I didn't know was Lurch had been following we through traffic on the way to the call and actually almost rear ended me when engine six cut me off.....so he was well aware of what happened and shared my sentiments. 

   As it turns out the chauffeur admitted he was in the wrong and said that he hadn't been paying attention as he approached the intersection. He got lucky...WE got lucky.

   Driving the rigs is a fun job but it's not something to take lightly. 

A Game of Chicken

Im sure everyone can think of a time when you were sitting at a red light or in traffic somewhere and you heard the faint howl of a siren. You instinctively check your mirrors and the traffic around you and see nothing. The sirens wail is getting louder and louder so you look around again and the POOF....fire truck!
You watch it go zoomin by and softly chuckle to yourself because although you heard it coming, it still managed to startle you as it went by. You watch it weave in and out if traffic and what seems like the speed of light and you think to yourself "Man! That would be a lot of fun."
Well I'm hear to tell you it is in fact, a lot of fun, but like everything else we do, driving the rigs can be just as precarious. But, as the Chauffeur (the driver/operator) you not only have the responsibility of the half a million dollar rig your wheelin and the lives of the other guys on board, you have to worry about the civilians driving around too. Chances are, if you hit a passenger car with a thirty to ninety thousand pound fire truck .....it's not going to be pretty. Theres also the other responding emergency vehicles you need to look out for. After all, everyone's headed to the same address but pretty much all coming from different directions, so your bound to cross paths with another emergency vehicle.
So it's definitely safe to say that driving, like most of the job, has an inherent level of danger. In fact, vehicle accidents are the second leading cause of firefighter deaths in the line of duty.
But also like everything else in the fire service, it takes a lot of training. Sure, you may already know how to drive, and its pretty much the same concept, but for the most part its way different. And there's no rear view mirror which generally kinda freaks people out. So backing up is usually the hardest thing to learn. In fact, when I started drivers training, I began with a nice stroll through town, then pulled into an industrial park and practiced backing up. Before I would get out of the drivers seat that night, I would drive backwards for 2 1/2 hours straight.....literally.
When we finally got back to the station, I asked why I was given a blunt and simple answer....."Any idiot behind the wheel can make it go forward but some people, no matter how long they practice, never learn to drive backwards and in this job it's just as important."
You wouldn't think, and I would soon learn, that aside from backing it into the bays after every call, there will be times when you absolutely need to know how to drive backwards using your mirrors.
After a few months of "DT" (drivers training) I was finally ready for my test. The Chief took me out in the wagon with 2 other guys and instructed me around town.
Now I had been driving training in the engine at least a few days a weeks for about 3 months, so I felt pretty comfortable behind the wheel. But this is the Chief, or "Pops" as we called him, was watching my every move, and if that wasn't bad enough, Pops worked as a Traffic Sgt. for the local PD so I had to be on point.
"Turn here, pull in there, back up to there, watch the yellow line, how fast are you going? where's the switch for the emergency lights? Talk me through putting it in pump gear?"
On and on and on..... I couldn't get one answer out and he was firing off another, it was nerve racking as hell.
"Head over to the college." he barked.
"Yes sir." I answered.
"Pull in the main drive and stop."
I again acknowledge his order with a "Yes sir" and then it hit me. It's time for the final part of test.
I pulled in, stopped, put it in neutral and set the air breaks.(fire trucks don't have "P"ark)
Pops shoots me a quick "Stay here." then gets out.
I hear the back cab door open and he starts talking to the two guys in the back, the door closes, then he hops back up front and explains to me what he expects me to do.
As safely and as quickly as I safely could, I had to take off, do one complete loop around the parking lot on the right, ziging and zaging around light poles and handicap parking signs, come back across the main drive way into the parking lot in the left and do one fast loop the whole way around, back trough a set of tight turns, then change direction within a given space and come back through the same set of tight turns forward, Stop, apply the parking break, engage the pump, fire up the generator, turn on the scene lights and accurately flow water to the other two guys who would hop off and stretch a hand line when I stop.
"Got it?" he asked.
And again with my mind going a hundred miles an hour, all I could muster was a "Yes sir."
"Good. I'll be watching from over at the hydrant, I'll wave when I'm ready."
I gave him a nod and he began to climb back out of the rig.
Then I hear "Oh yea, one more thing..."
"Yea Chief?" I asked.
".....don't wreck my fuckin engine." He added. Then shut the door.
Now my mind was going...."Does he really think I'll wreck it?" "Is he pissed?" "WTF!!"
I watched him walk over to the hydrant, he turned, gave me a wave.
My heart was racing, my palms soaked & white from gripping the steering wheel. I took a deep breath, honked the horn twice (fire service signal for moving forward)
"HIT IT!" shouted one of the guys in the back.
I released the parking break, shifted into drive and off I went.
It wasn't far into the pre determined course when I started to feel at ease. I seemed to take to driving & operating almost naturally to a point where I could practically drive by feel instead of intense concentration.
I worked through the various tasks like clock work. When it was all said & done, the Chief gave me a few small pointers and then gave me his blessing. I was free to drive the wagon, on calls.
We then began to repack the handling, the hooked to a hydrant to replace the water in the tank we had used, then headed back to the fire house. I pulled up and swung the engine away from the fire house, then began to back into the bays. Using my mirrors, I made minor adjustments steering the rig from left to right, trying to get the rig straight. Then, as fate would have it, "CRUNCH!"
My stomach instantly knotted and I immediately hit the break & looked out the drivers window and noticed I hit the side mirror off the building.
"So much for driving" I thought.
I looked at the Chief who was sitting in the Officers seat (front passenger) and mumbled the only thing I could..... "Sorry Chief..."
He just looked at me, his non-verbals said it all....
Then he barked, "Well don't just sit there, put the damn thing alway."
So I pulled forward a little & straightened out, then, with one broken mirror, finally got the engine in the bay.
I hopped out of the wagon, plugged it in (fire trucks have on board chargers to keep batteries and firefighting equipment charged) grabbed my gear to go hang it up when I hear the Chief from behind me.
"We'll, at least you got it out if the way early..."
I turned and saw him looking at the mirror.
"Sorry Chief." Was again all I could muster.
"Well, it like this," he replied. "There are those that have, and those that will..." Referring to the fact that I banged up the wagon.
".....just try not to make it a habit."
"I won't" I replied.
"Good, now go down to the maintenance room, grab a new mirror and get it on before we get a call."
I shot him another "yes sir" and then off I went to fix what I had broken.
On a side note, in true firehouse fashion, that broken mirror would show up every where for the next few weeks. From my locker, to my pillow, to under my sheets.... I didn't hear the end of that for some time.....and rightfully so.

It would be a few days before I got the chance, but with every squawk on the radio...my heart would start to race a little and I'd wonder....Is this the one?...but it never was. About 4 days after my test, I was sitting around the firehouse doing whatever when someone manualy rang the bells, a pre-warning of an incoming run (fire call) I, like everyone else, slide the pole to the apparatus bays and step into my boots.
"What is it!?" Someone shouted
"Vehicle fire....in 4's due" (station 4's district) someone else replied....then added "He's wheelin the wagon" and pointed to me. I finished pulling my bunker pants up, threw the suspenders over my shoulders, grabbed my helmet and coat then made a B line to the engine threw my coat and helmet in a compartment and climbed into the drivers seat.
My mind was going a mile a minuet, hastily sifting through the Rolodex of training in my head as my heart raced and pounded so hard I could see my shirt moving (literally) I reached down next to the seat and turned the battery switch....the dash lit up, the bells & buzzers chirped, and the mobile firebrand radio sprang to life with a pre-alert and the dispatchers voice putting out the call. This was for real.
I reached down, pushed the ignition switch, and then the start button. The rig shutters a bit as big diesel motor growls to life and my heart races even faster. Next I think, "air breaks" so I press my foot on the break pedal and reach for the big yellow parking break button, then stop... for the life of me, I couldn't keep my foot tightly on the break pedal.
"What the fuck!?"
I look down at my right leg and its shaking, and i dont meen shsking like I'm cold. It was visibly hopping up and down on the break pedal. The feeling of adrenalin mixed with a nervous excitement is so intense It tool everything I had to control it.
So I stop, sit up and take a few big deep breaths to try like hell to calm down. Then "SLAM" the officer door is yanked shut, damn near making me jump outta my skin. I look over at the officers seat and its my Captain, Keith (we call him "Fuss")
Knowing its my first run behind the wheel, He looks over at me and asks, " You Ok?"
I shot him a nervous nod.
"Well then, let's get going" he said.
I took on more deep breath, pressed the break pedal, released the parking break, shifted into drive and gave it some gas.
I pulled out onto the apron and made the left, my leg still shaking a little and my knuckles a pale white from gripping the oversized steering wheel tight.
I made it down the road about a quarter mile, and wouldn't you know it....traffic. Fuss stepped on the siren pedal an yanked the air horn chain..."Go Left!" He yelled....
I hesitated for a moment the he added, "Go left....Take it at an angle.."
Yup....he wanted me to hop the median strip & take the on-comming lanes. (as I'm sure all of you good drivers out there reading this know, by law, you are supposed to pull to the right and stop for emergency vehicles, so we're taught to always pass on the left.....or at least try too whenever possible.
With my heart still pounding out of my chest, I ease the steering wheel left and up and over the concrete hump separating the lanes and continue on in the oncoming lanes towards what is statistically the second busies intersection in the state. (in drivers training, they make it a point to repeatedly tell you that, not to scare you but to beat into your head that there are a lot more people on the road than just you and your firetruck)
Ahead of me is a white pick-up...I lifted my foot off the gas a little....
"Don't slow down, He'll move..." said Fuss.
So I kept going.....and so did the white pick-up.
Now you've all heard the phrase (or something to the effect) "He who has the most lug nuts, wins."
The guy driving the white truck obviously didn't get the memo. Even with all these flashing red lights & the screaming siren coming from the 34,000 pound fire truck coming at him...this guy wasn't going to move......or stop.
In a split second I surveyed my options......
I couldn't go left because someone in the oncoming slow lane had stopped, and there wasn't the room to maneuver around the stopped car and the ass hole in the white truck with out a good chance of smacking the stopped car head on.
I could go right and back over the median into the fast lane on "my side" of the road, only it had morphed into the left turn lane with 2 cars stopped at the approaching red light, waiting to turn. But if I timed it right and keep my speed (about 35 mph) there still a decent chance ill make it.
I holler over my shoulder to the back of the cab, "Hang on guys!"
Then, sounding like an auctioneer, I hear Fuss in the officers seat...
"What are you doing?What are you doing?What are you doing?What are you doing?...What the hell are you doing!?"
I ignored him, give it a little more gas & turn the wheel slight right, taking the rig back up over the concrete median, concentrating on the inches I may or may not have to spare. Then, as soon as I clear of the white pick-up I come back fast to the left and back over the median strip. I manage to keep from plowing into the vehicles in the turn lane and squeak by with out a scratch and continue through the intersection and back to my side of the road.
"Holy shit that was close!" Fuss exclaims.
I calmly reply, "Sorry about that but I didn't think I would have stopped in time." Now I wasn't going fast, but he was coming toward me to closing the gap even faster. Not to mention 35 mph seems a lot faster when your duckin & weavin through traffic.
We continue on our way, crossing into on coming traffic only one or two more times just to get around stopped vehicles and as we turned onto the road with the vehicle fire, we were returned in service (canceled.)
Now what I'm unable to get across in writing is how quick that little game of chicken was. The entire event took a fraction of the time that it took you to read it. If I had to put a number to it, I'd say about 4 seconds at best, but that still doesn't do it any justice.
I would learn a lot from my first little jaunt in the engine...maneuvering through traffic, hopping the median and how much the pair of eyes in the officers seat helps. But the most important thing I learned that day was that civilians don't always move out of the way....even when your heading right at them.

Silly Shenanigans & Fun with Civilians and the Media

There is a side of firehouse life that you, the civilian, never really see. Sure, you've probably seen us fight a fire or work at an accident but theres a side of the job most are unaware of. Quite honestly, the only I can explain the half of it is with a line I'm sure you have all heard, "Boys may get bigger, but they never grow up." Now, that's not to say we're all a bunch of immature adults. Simply look at what we do on a daily basis, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that, to some degree, you gotta have a pretty good head on our shoulders to mentally deal with what we do and or see on any given day. But within our professionalism, there's a thin slice of fun, a release from the stresses of the job. Not to mention it passes the time when business is slow.
The fun can come at just about anytime, and any form. Although it seems to ramp up a bit during the slow periods (a stretch of time where call volume goes down & your left with a lot of free time) Also, and more importantly, it is non discriminatory. Everyone from the Chief down to the Junior firefighter is a target. (Ok, well not so much the Chief, but some of us have been know to test the waters) So to be a firefighter, you better have a good sence of humor and be able to take a joke or two.....or three.
Now, in the grand scheme of pranks around the firehouse, there are rules. No (serious) bodily harm, no touching someone's personal vehicle, if for some accidental reason personal property is damaged the "prankster" is always liable, nothing that will delay an emergency response and absolutely no touching someone's gear. Other than that, it's fair game and all about opportunity.
The shower is ways a good time to pull a prank. It can be something like patiently waiting for some one who's getting a shower to shut the water off. Then, having an accomplice yank the shower curtain back and you throw an entire container of powdered sweetened iced tea mix on the poor bastard who had just finished getting a shower....another good one (as long as your willing to pay to have it recharged) is getting a CO2 fire extinguisher and spraying it in the shower while they're in there....instantly turning every bit of moisture into ice, and if you do it just right, you can make it snow.
Turning someone's bunk into a fish bowl with shrink wrap is one of those rights if passage, you know, something that happens to just about everyone....while they're still sleeping in it of course. The bunk room was always a "deadly" place. A large room with 10 bunk beds and referred to as the "bat cave" because 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, its always dark. Usually the attacks happen in the evening while everyone's going to bed. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, all hell breaks loose and you partake in a huge pillow fight or maybe a game of full contact football.
Waking up to answer the direct phone line to dispatch can be dangerous as well. It was nothing to see someone walking across the bunk room to answer the phone & watch them drop like a ton of bricks. The unsuspecting victim of an Airsoft or blow gun round. (both leave a mark and sting like hell)
During a lull in fire calls, It's not uncommon to someone say "Hey, I got a cool idea..." It's usually these very same words that gives a chief chest pain because a "cool idea" usually isn't really a "good" one per-say, and almost always begs the question "what or who is going get get broken." The "who" is usually a Probie (probationary firefighter). For example, a probie NEVER mouths off to a senior man.....cause when they do they could very well find themselves strapped to a spare stretcher....at the top of a hill. Now, before you sit back and gasp "They wouldn't!?" there are two things you need to know. First and foremost, Yes, we most certainly would and second, there isn't a prank and/or stunt that's been pulled where safety hasn't been seriously considered. Many of potentially epic ideas had been scrapped on account of safety. So, before the Probie shoves off, carefull consideration has been given to angle, trajectory, placing the stretcher in the "load position" so it's perfectly flat and about 8 inches off the ground for a lower center of gravity. Then when we're all pretty sure it's good to go....it's time for launch.
The launch is good....quickly gets in the groove and is staying nice and straight. Then as we stand in amazement that it worked someone calmly says "Shit......we didn't figure on the storm drain..."
I looked back down the road to see the stretcher catch the storm drain and flip head over feet, landing the poor bastard flat on his face in the grass. Certain he's dead....we rush down to flip him over, and someone says "If he's gotta go to the hospital, at least he's already on the backboard AND the stretcher." Anyways, as bad as it could have been...it was a few stitches, and we all laughed about it....even the Probie.... once the bleeding stopped.
Civilians are also fun. We don't prank them as we would one of the guys but sometimes it's impossible to not have a laugh at their expense.
For example, while directing traffic at a vehicle accident with an overturned suv, a motorist pulls up and asks if he can get through, obviously the white suv on its roof in plain site 30 yards or so behind us did tip him off so he's politely told no and that he has to find another He then asks what happened and without missing a beat, one of the guys tells him there was a plane crash.....and the motorist believed him....even called & told his wife while he was sitting there....with the overturned vehicle still in plain sight.
Then theres the Ignorant civilians. They almost always get something from us, and it may be a biased opinion, but its done rightfully so. You would probably be amazed at some of the stuff we deal with from bystanders during an emergency. It's as if the house on fire isn't keeping us busy enough. I remember one time at a fire, I had arrived on the third in engine (third engine to arrive on scene) and as I'm grabbing my tolls, some guy starts shaking my shoulders and asks "Can you move that hose? I have to pick up a suit and I can't get out of my driveway."
I looked at him with a slightly confused expression and said
"No hablo Inglés." Then I turned and went to work. I did tell the Chief about the guy just incase he tried to drive over the hose and it's not a small hose, its the big yellow hose that connects to the hydrant to supply us with water, so it's kind of important and yes, people do actually try to drive over it. When the fire was deemed under control and the hose line shut down, the Chief found me and said go move tho hose and let that guy get out.
So I walked over, knocked on the door and when he answered I politely, in very clear, plain English, told him he could go now. He thanked me then you could tell by the look on his face that it hit him....I was the same guy that didn't speak English. I just shot him a smile and a nod then turned to go finish cleaning up.
Then there's the media...I understand they're just trying to do their job but they can be a huge hassle. As in I actually had one step in front of me for comment as I was walking into a high rise with active fire on the top floor....
"Excuse me sir, can you tell me what's going on."
With the camera and the mic in my face, I calmly replied "I'm still down here because there's some fucking idiot in my way, so I'm not sure what's going on yet."
She failed to find the humor in it.
Then one night we got the Chief and the media too. While cleaning up one night after a fire, I noticed the Chief step aside with a reporter to do his interview. So I grab two guys and fill them in on my idea. They agree to help so the 3 of us take up position in a way where the reporter won't see us and patiently watch as he and the chief get ready for the interview. Then once they get started, we pop out from behind the ladder truck, in plain site of the chief and begin "posing" in the most inappropriate sexual positions you can do with 3 people. The chief can see us plain as day and did try to complete the interview, but it just wasn't going to happen & he busted out laughing....as did we. We then disappeared behind the ladder truck again so that if the reporter turned around, we'd be gone. Back at the station after the call, we were cleaning tools and such when I hear my name get called... "Report to the Chief's office..." So I walk in and hear "Shut the door & grab a seat."
(this is usually not good)
"What's up Chief?"
He just sat there and glared....then said in a rather stern tone of voice... "Do you realize how un professional that was, I should have you suspended, and your cohorts too!.....What do you have to say for yourself?"
I stumble for the right words....."Well Chief...I just thought...."
"No, you obviously weren't thinking!"
I thought to myself.... "Well, I thought he found it funny but this one obviously backfired....big time."
I prepared myself to take the heat and imagined I'd get suspended for a week or two.....the big man was pissed. But before I could say anything, the chief bellowed "And your obviously not thinking now! Because if you were you'd be able to figure out that was one of the funniest fuckin things I've ever seen..." And he busts into hysterics again and then busted out with "GOT YA!" And yes he did and he had gotten me good.
So you see, when its time to work, we work. But shenanigans are never far away....and neither are pay backs.

Dear Penthouse.....

I saw this cartoon today and it reminded me of a time I was put in a similar situation.
We were working at a local high rise apartment building for a fire on the 5th floor. I had arrived riding Irons on the truck and was assigned evacuation of the 4th floor. "Irons" was my riding position. My primary job would be forceable entry, prying doors, cutting hinges and basically breaking into anything we need to check for occupants and possibly even fire. Why would we have to go door to door in a building that's on fire ? Well,at most multi-family residential buildings, false alarms or burnt food calls are so common that most people learn to ignore the fire alarm and don't evacuate until we're pounding on their door. And the most common phrase uttered in embarrassment as they frantically shutter out the door is, "I thought it was another false alarm." Another good one is "I didn't hear the fire alarm"....(I think they actually expect us to believe them.) Then, there are those lovely people who are totally ignorant towards us and refuse to leave until they are threatened with being arrested. (Yes, we really can do that)
And, of course, there are the doors no one answers....these we have to force. In laymen's terms, we break into the apartment to make sure it's not on fire and no one is home. Some times you find them asleep and as you can probably imagine, they're pretty shocked and at first pretty pissed off that your standing in their apartment. But they too eventualy make their way out. So basically the job is kinda like a Cracker Jack box cause you never know what's kind of "prize" is behind each door.
My partner on this call was a guy we called "Shleprock" or "Shlep" for short. Shlep was a damn good fireman one of the best I've worked with and strong as an ox too. He would carry any tool he could grab along with what was required for his riding position. We made the 4 story hike with all our equipment and decided we would work our way from one end of the hallway to the other, Shelp on one side and myself on the other.
We make our way down the hall pounding on doors & telling the tenants of the fire upstairs and that they need to leave their apartments. We decide skip forcing the doors with no answer until after we clear the rest of the floor and just continue on our way pounding in doors and clearing the floor if its tenants. When get to the end of the hall and are about to work our way back down the hall clearing the 3 or 4 "empty" apartments when we suddenly hear loud dance music. It's the kind of techno stuff they play at dance clubs. Shelp walks up to one of the doors that no one answered and in a puzzled voice says "It's coming from in here." As I approach him at the door, the door across from the one with the music opens, and a little old guys pokes his head out for a second then shuts the door.
Shlep, even more puzzled asks "Didn't you check that one?"
Now just as confused as him, I nod and walk upto the door with the little old man behind it.
I beat on it again, and Shlep starts pounding on the door with the music.
The little old guy opens his up again and asks what's going on. I tell him about the fire and that he needs to leave the building. He then, steps past me to tap on Shleps arm to get his attention. Shlep, still pounding on the door across the hall, turns and says "Someone's in there... I hear laughing...it sounds like a girl."
And the Little old man says, "Those two are a wild bunch....they probably won't answer the door so save your energy and quit making all that racket."
We all chuckle, then I set my tools down in the hall to help the old man collect his meds and start out of the building and Shlep, well, he was still pounding on the door, still with music blasting, and no answer.
At this point, we're getting pissed. We know theres someone in there and we've beat on the door loud enough that someone actually made a report on the radio from the fire floor that they can hear someone pounding. It's at this point we decide to force the door. So as I begin to I turn away from the door and grab the rabbit tool (small hand pumped hydraulic ram for forcing doors open) I hear the music get softer and then the latch on the door click. So I turn around to to see the door open up and standing there, in nothing more than an un-tied white silk robe and small (very small) black panties, is a gorgeous blonde. Then, from in the room behind her, I hear another girl ask "Who's here?" And just then a gorgeous brunette comes out of a room into view of the door. She is also wearing an untied robe and small (very small) red panties and sipping on a glass of wine.
In a provocative tone of voice, the blonde answers "They're firemen."
The brunette shoots back with a "Oooo really?....can we keep them?"
Now I can only imagine the look on our faces as we stood in a state of shock and in total awe of what was before us. I mean, when clearing a floor at a high rise fire, the last thing any fireman would expect to open the door is a scantily clad women of Playboy centerfold caliber, let alone two of them.
As I fumble to hold my tools while I pick my jaw up off the floor, Shlep utters "Good evening ladies, we're here to let you know that there a fire upstairs and that you should evacuate."
The Blond runs here hand softly down the side of Shleps face and says to her friend "They're here to save us..."
The brunette, now also standing in the door replies "Well I didn't call them but since they're here, I could use some good mouth to mouth...."
They both giggle, then the blonde, starts to stroke Shleps roof hook and adds ".....and it seems they both brought their "tools" with them."
The brunette then jumps in and starts to unclasp my coat and says "....do they have their suspenders.....firemen are sooo much hotter with suspenders on...."
Then she tugs on my coat, pulling me across the threshold and into the apartment, giggles then says "I think we'll be safer if you two stay here, after all, the only thing better than smoke detectors is having your own fireman."
The blonde quickly adds, "And we have two of them, one for each of us."
Now by this point, I dunno what the hells going on.....we came up to clear a floor and some how ended up in the beginnings of a Letter to Penthouse, and the building is still actively burning. We do our best to maintain some level of professionalism, but its hard to keep a though straight as your mind takes off in a thousand different directions as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. Not that we needed help figuring out what it appeared they wanted, but I mean really, when does shit like this happen in real life?
Anyway, Shlep tells them again, "Ladies, we're flattered, we really are, but this isn't a joke, there is a fire upstairs and we need to get you out of the building."
The blonde, now with a slightly surprised look on her face, has picked up on the urgency amongst the crackling in Shleps voice and shoots back "Really!?..... Oh my god! Are you serious!?" Then turns to the brunette and says "We better get going, maybe next time....."
At this point, both women, from what we told them and the radio traffic, realized that this in fact isn't another false alarm but an actual fire. They hastily run back into a bed room, shut the music off and throw on some close, then make their way out of the apartment and down the hall. Only stopping for a moment to thank us and invite us back when there isn't a fire. Then they each gave us a hug and a kiss and off they went.
Now back in the hallway, we just stood there & watched them leave. As the stairwell door closed behind them Shlep turned to me and asked "Did that really just happen."
"I think so Shlep....but I'm not totally sure?...." I answered.
We then quietly went about our business clearing the last two apartments, then reported to command that the floor was clear and waited for a new assignment. A few minutes later the fire was reported out so we gathered up our tools and returned to the rig.
A few guys asked how it went, obviously curious as to if we ran into anything out of the ordinary. We told them it was just the usual idiots. But obviously the looks on our faces told a different story. Even one if my Asst. Chiefs could tell something was up and relentlessly hounded us while we cleaned up to find out what happened but we kept brushing him off too. After all, how do you explain that? It wasn't until after we got back to the firehouse and were cleaning up that we told them about our little encounter. Some of the guys believed us, others didn't, and quite honestly, I can't say I blame the ones that didn't. In fact, had I not been there, I probably wouldn't believe it myself.

Giving Thanks

"Thanks" is not a word often heard in the fire service. In fact, I can count on one hand, the number of times someone actually made an attempt to thank me or anyone else on my crew. Now, I'm in no way pitching a bitch about it, truth is, it's a thankless job. We see people on one of the worst days of their lives and with their world turned upside down, trying to figure out which way is up is difficult enough let alone remembering to thank someone for helping. So we understand, and quite frankly, we were just doing our job.
Sept. 11th kind of changed that, even if only for a little. But, most of us knew it would be short lived. For days, if not weeks after 9/11, residence and businesses dropped of cookies, sandwich rings, cases of pop, pizzas, what ever. People stopped to say thank you, brought their kids to meet the "heroes". All in all, it was a bit overwhelming. Granted, it was nice to be recognized for what we do, but we did nothing to deserve it.
But it was short lived, so we were able to get back to the comfortable thankless-ness we were used to. Today it's back to normal, and it really is OK, we kinda like it that way. We'll be here, outta sight, outta mind until we're needed.....it's what we do.
Then theres the other side of the stories, and as I look back on 18 years, I can say I have a lot to be thankful for during my career. Sure, there are those calls I would sooner forget if I could, but even in the darkest moments life has to offer, there is always something.
For me, it's my career itself. For a jolly volly in Southwest PA I have been blessed. From those who taught me in the beginning like My Asst Chief Bill & my one of my instructors, Jim. Both who taught me modern & old school techniques and skills to be an effective firefighter, and just as if not more important, why we do what we do and what it really means to be a firefighter.
There isn't a fire I haven't fought were something one of those two taught me hasn't helped me in some fashion or got my ass out of a bad spot, for their friendship, instruction and tutelage, I am thank full.
I am thankful for having the privilege to ride the rigs and fight, side by side with some of the best in the business, guys from places like Washington DC FD, Pittsburgh Bureau of Fire, Baltimore FD and even FDNY, to name a few.
Im thankful for the Guys from Engine Co 12 for busting through the door into the fully involved room in the basement, a split second after I fell through the floor and landed on the bed, in the fully involved room. Impeccable timing guys...thanks.
I'm thankful for seeing the warning signs and retreating from the second floor just in time to keep from getting cooked in a flashover in Engine 7s first due. I'll take a few small blisters over the burn unit any day.
I'm thankful there were no serious injuries when we sent 14 guys to the hospital after the roof collapsed during an apartment building fire.
I am thankful that, to date, my most serious injury from fighting fire was a very severely sprained ankle that almost ended my firefighting and construction careers.
I am thankful to have been able to fight many fires with my two best friends, Mike & Ryan.
I am thankful for the wood framed storage shed that stood between me an a 55 gallon drum of something at an industrial fire. The Drum experienced a bleve. (Boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion....BIG boom)...I don't know how much it actually helped since it was destroyed, but when I picked my ass off the ground and did a quick once over to make sure I was ok, I was convinced, had that Shed not been there..... neither would I. I'm also thankful my ears only rang for 3 days after the blast.
I am thankful for the nice warm diesel exhaust to warm your hands & feet on those long cold nights fighting fire in the snow. And since we're talking cold weather operations, lets not forget those that get up in the middle of the night to bring the Sally wagon and have ready for us, the best tasting coffee and hot chocolate flavored water you'll never want to drink again but do so just because its warm.
I am thankful that I've learned to appreciate life a little more.
I'm thankful to be in the right place at the right time on the right call to help someone else see tomorrow.
I am thankful not only for my time living at the firehouse, but for those I got to share that time with. Definitely 4 of my best years in the service.
I am thankful that I have been able to come home after an ugly call and kiss my kids and my wife.
I am thankful the engine I was driving had good enough breaks to keep from hitting a minivan with 4 kids in it when their mom blew a red light.....damn good breaks.
I am thankful for my Buddy Lurch, who in street cloths, at a working fire in a strip mall, grabbed and threw a 24 foot extension ladder to the roof so that myself and 2 others could get off the roof after the roof began to collapse, cutting off our two means of egress. Thanks brother.
I am thank full for having Chummy was a able to guid me to a vehicle fire as I drove through fog. He held his head out the officers window and watched the front tire of the engine and the white line on the road, shouting instructions "left a little, keep it straight, back to the right a little" to make sure we stayed on the road until we got to the fire because the Fog was so god damn thick we didn't see the burning car until we almost hit it. It was insane..
Good lookin out brother.
To the guy from Tower 112 who grabbed me by my air pack just before falling through a huge hole the arsonist cut in the floor at a fire in 94's first due. Never got your name, but thanks dude.
I am thankful to the State Trooper who, with the use of a flying fore arm, "subdued" the angry motorist that stopped and for some reason felt picking a fight a with a fireman at an accident was a good idea.
I am, for some odd reason, thankful for the engine company.....I know, I know, I know.... I can't explain it either.
I am thankful for my wife. She is a Firefighters wife, its hard to explain and there's more to it than you realize.
I am thankful that tomorrow, when the bell rings, I'll still be ready to go.
Be safe and Happy Thanksgiving.

The Rivalry

In every high-school across the country, for every sport, there is a rival school somewhere. And its that rivalry that acts as a foundation for for the teams training & willingness to be the very best. Altho they train and prepare the same way for any given game on any given day against any given team, its the rivalry that squeezes ever ounce of commitment out of the teams members, and pushes them to be 110% at their very best. After all, we can't loose to the other team, especially our rivals, right?
Well, the fire service happens to be cut from the same fabric. Competition is in everything we do....being able to go from street cloths to full gear and SCBA breathing air in less than 2 minuets, first to get water on the fire, fastest at cutting a roof....or what ever. And, for every firehouse across the country, there is, just down the road a bit, or in the next town over,a rival fire house. They are the ones who, in the general opinion of your company, couldn't put out a burning bag of dog shit. When in all actuality they think the very same about you and your fire company. On the fire scene, it's (usually) not an issue. Your all there for the same reason, and you do your job, period end of story. That's not to say that some friendly ball bustin doesn't occur, but all in all, you work well with one another....except maybe when you beat them to a fire in their district AND put the fire out.....then it can get a little tense. (that ranks right below sleeping with their wives)
Then there is a more "traditional" rivalry. A rivalry thats as old as the fire bell, if not older. It's the rivalry between the (ladder) truck company and the engine company, or the "Truckies" and the "Hose Jockeys" as their commonly referred. It's a rivalry unlike any other...its lead some fire stations that house both an engine and a truck to "segregate" the firehouse with seperate bathrooms and sleeping quarters. (the kitchen is traditionally never divided, that's sacred turff, I'll get into that some other time) On top of that, the inside of the apparatus bays and sometimes even the entire firehouse, are decorated in different colors, evenly split right down the center.
For example, if you were to walk into one of these firehouses you would immediately notice that one half of the apparatus bay where the engine sits, is blue, and the side where the truck sits is red and its the same with the living quarters. From carpet to curtains, if it can be color coded and or split in half, it is.
Now, It's up to each individual to decide what side of the fence they'll stake claim. As for me, my fire service career got its start in an engine company. Not because I wanted to, but like the vast majority of those in the volunteer fire service, that's all my home town fire company had, an engine, 2 of them actually. (altho I would later come to my senses and hop the proverbial fence)
Engines are the most widely seen apparatus on the street and a vast majority of firehouses in America have at least one. In face, with a few exceptions, in any given city,engine company's out number truck companies. For example, the City of Pittsburgh Bureau of Fire has 28 engine company's and only 11 truck companies.
Both are usually staffed with 4 to 6 firefighters, but their responsibilities on the fire ground differ greatly and it's those differences in responsibility that are the foundation for the rivalry.
An engine company are those that respond on and operate/work from a fire engine, thats the fire truck that has the hose, the pump, hooks up to the fire hydrant & squirts the water. As defined, they have only 2 responsibilities at a fire, and those are to establish a water supply (the hydrant connection) and fire attack (the actual act of putting the fire out)
The basic routine of any engine company is the same, first, they need to establish a water supply, that's when they put the hose in the street with one end hooked to a hydrant and the other to their wagon (fire service slang for an engine). Next they pull a handling off and flake it out in the front yard. Now depending on they do things, they'll either charge the hose line at the front door, then make entry to find the fire, or (if they have a set) they take the line in dry to just outside the fire room, then call over the radio for water. Taking the line in wet can be difficult. When the line is charged, it becomes rigid, making it hard to bend without kinking it. The guys on the line have to really work to get the nozzle into position by forcefully moving the hose line around inside. It's a pain in the ass, especially when the fire is on the second floor in the back corner bedroom. But once they get into position, they put the fire out. Only thing after that is packing or rolling all that hose....other than that, the engine company's job is done.
Then there's the better half, um.......I mean, the other half of the rivalry. The Truck Company, or "Truckies". These are the big, built, well equipped, exceptionally trained, seasoned veteran bad asses that can put the fire out just by looking at it AND there ain't a damn we can't handle!!! Ok, maybe that's stretching the truth a little, sometimes we have to stomp the fire out with our boot.
Anyway, as the truck company,we arrive and work off of the apparatus that has the huge ladder on top. These rigs are usually packed full if tools, kind of like a rolling tool box. Some of them have a platform or "bucket" at the end if the ladder. In the fire service these are called "Towers" Then there are the ones that are just a big ladder or "straight stick" or more traditionally called a "truck". This too is a rivalry, only it just between truck companies. The argument being which is the better truck, a bucket or a straight stick? Both perform the job well but in my opinion, posers right in a bucket, real truckies climb the ladder.
Now, altho out rigs are a bit different, our responsibilities are the same. Those are forcible entry, search & rescue, ventilation, utility control (gas & electric), salvage, over haul and of course, ladders.
Forceable entry is just that, forcing entry into a building. This can be done a number of ways and how its done is usually determined by the situation at hand. It could be as simple as prying a door open, or removing security bars and taking out a window. What ever you need to get into, chances are, we have a tool for the job.
Search & rescue. This too is self explanatory. We go in (with no hose line) and search the building. The search is as methodical as it is chaotic and done in 2 stages. A primary and secondary search. The primary search is quick & dirty, sometimes crawling in pitch black feeling around with your hands, calling out in the event anyone trapped can hear you & respond. The secondary search is a more thorough search and is usually performed once the wagon fags...... sorry......once the engine company gets a knock on the fire. (knocked down but not completely out)
Now if you find a victim, you let command know to have the Bandaid Warriors (medics) ready, and now you and your partner remove the victim from the house via the fastest way. Sometimes your lucky and its the front door, other times, its a second or third story window.
The next one is one of my personal favorites, Ventilation. This is the process of removing smoke and heat from the structure to provided a safer environment for the interior firefighters and any possible victims. This too can be accomplished many different ways depending on the situation. It can be breaking windows, busting out sky lights and the always popular, cutting a hole in the roof. You can be a truckie, but your not "really" a truckie until you catch a job and put in some work on the roof...it's kind of a right of passage. Then there's the fans, ones that suck & ones that blow. The smoke ejectors "suck" the smoke out of the house, usually a window. The other type, Positive Pressure Ventilation, or PPV fans are positioned in front of an exterior door and "blow" fresh cool air into the house at a high pressure, forcing out smoke & heat.
Now the tricks to ventilation are type of ventilation, timing, and reading (understanding) the smoke & fire conditions. If you screw either one up, and the conditions are right, the result can be devastating. Increasing the rate of fire growth exponentially, or causing a flashover or even a back draft, all of them potentially lethal. So, as you can tell, ventilation is a lot more involved than just breaking stuff.
Utility control is isolating the Gas & electric to the structure that's burning. A mix of natural gas and fire doesn't exactly help the cause, and with guys inside pulling down walls & ceilings, you don't want them to find a live wire and get zapped while standing in the puddle of water. (that shit hurts)
And niw, since you've turned off the electricity, Utility control also includes supplying lights & power to the home via small generators, long heavy duty extension cords and portable lighting inside & out.
Salvage is the process in which we try to save as many personal belongings as we safely can. It's generally not a favorite job, but, we understand that someone standing in the front yard is watching their life go up in smoke,literally, and the more we can save makes it that much easier for them to deal with. Basically it's Stacking the furniture in the rooms below the fire and covering them with huge sheets of plastic, carefully moving pictures and stuff lime that. Its amazing how handing something like a charged jewelry box to the home owner while its still warm, seems to make it all seem not quite as bad, if only a by a little.
Over haul is done generally in the fire room and is when we tear the walls open to the framing to check for hot spots and any hidden fire or extension. And removal of debris to a point as to not disturb any potential arson evidence.
And finally, there's the Ladders, more notably the big power ladder on top of the fire truck. But along with reaching high up in the air, it also provides an elevated master stream. It's a big nozzle attached to the top of the ladder capable of flowing upwards of 2000 gallons per minuet. (that's enough to fill your average above ground pool in about 4 1/2 minuets) Then there are the ground ladders, truck companies usually at least 6 or 8. These are used to gain access to the roof if the power ladder can't be used because if power lines (very common in SW PA) they're also placed at ever possible window for means if access and egress from the building. (you always try to have more than one way out of a room if the shit goes bad) the ladders can also be used as a platform to vent windows in upper floors or tear at the eves of the house to expose any fire. Basically, for a Truckie, working from a ladder must be second nature.
So in general, you now have an understand of what takes place and how every single task is important. However, to Truckies and Hose Jockeys the job can be done just as easily without their counterpart there. A million in one arguments have ensued over who is more important and I suspect it will continue that way well after I'm long gone.
Truth of it is, one cannot function efficiently without the other and all jobs are important to putting out the fire. And although putting water on a fire is kind of important, at least now we all know that the engine company cant do their job without the truck company, because after all.....Truckies are better.

Your never really on vacation.

This is a picture of some "tool work" at an accident with entrapment I witnessed in the way home from vacation. The pictured vehicle, I would soon find out, was occupied by a late 30's female driver and her 22 month old little boy who was properly seated behind her. Her car was traveling southbound (I was northbound) and she was hit by someone who hydroplaned spinning her in front of a tractor trailer who blasted her, dead center in the "B" post on the drivers side (for you non first responder types, that is the post between the front & back doors on both sides of the vehicle) That impact spun her off the road, down into the grassy center divider then shot up and out the other side where her vehicle caught a good 6 or 7 feet of air before some how landing on all 4's then rolling to a stop in the slow lane, right in front of me.
I swerved & missed her, pulled to the burm and hopped out to do my thing & I have Laura-Lynn call 911 in the process.
A few others stop, one being a pick up with all kinds of shit in the back. I grabed about a 2 foot metal hunk of something and I busted out the front passenger window (yes, I tried before I pried) reached in & unlocked the door then climbed inside. I do a quick once over of the boy who wasn't crying at all..just lookin at me like "who the hell are you" and mom who was screaming and obviously in pretty good pain and concerned with her child. I assured her he was all right, and calmed her down as best I could. Even after just a quick once over I felt he would be just fine.....it's amazing how resilient kids are.
A few minuets pass and the medics show up, and then the fire dept. The fire dept. shows up in a early 90s commercial cab engine....a small one at that. From the size and type of apparatus, I assume they are there for fire suppression and expect at least something resembling a rescue would show up to perform the (rescue) tool work, after all this is a major interstate....but, unfortunately this would not be the case.
Theses back ass lookin country bumpkins fall out of what I would consider a poor excuse for an engine, onto the highway, stumble around like the Keystone Cops then eventualy manage to find and place into service portable power plant and a combi-tool. (short fir combination tool, it combines the abilities of the cutters and the spreaders) They fire it up & it sounds way different than it should, almost like a small Harley. So I looked at the power plant a little closer and notice the "after market" (obviously more like home made) muffler on the side and as it registers in my head what it is I'm looking at, I hear one of the toothless heroes say in his back hills accent "Damn! That some bitch sounds purdy good don't it?".....honestly, you can't make this shit up.
Now, as far as the damage to the vehicle, from a professional stand point, the front door needs to go, and there's about 18" of intrusion at the bottom of the "B" post, and it's buckled in such a way that you can't get at it without removing both drivers side doors. So it's a quick pop of the front and back doors, (both of which had picture perfect purchase points as if the Gods of vehicle rescue placed them there...that's the point in wich you set your tool to begin extrication), next remove the "B" post and while someone's making the cut, some one else can be untangling her feet from the pedals. Next, remove the patient......an operation that should take no more than 10 min, maybe 15 min tops.
These guys however, were in no hurry and as I would soon find out, had no clue. They attacked at the "B" post wich is now just a smashed pilar if wrinkled metal, and with out really looking at it, you couldn't see a separation between the front & rear doors. It took Larry, Darrel & Darrel about 10 minuets to pop the drivers door and it didn't matter because the car was so buckled that even if you bent the hinges back, the door wouldn't open far enough to get her out, not to mention the "B" post was right next to her head, and that hindered her extraction.....I was dumb founded,
Standing next to the medic I said "DUDE! There's no way in hell we're getting her out of there." The Medic, Matt was his name, a nice guy and obviously seasoned medic, he just shook his head and mumbled "un-fucking-believable"
I asked "Can't you say something?!"
He gave me a cliff-notes version of an interdepartmental scuffle where the responding fire company, Larry, Darrel & Darrel's company, was almost shut down but they managed to keep it open and feel everyone's out to get them, making it next to impossible to work with them on scene yada yada yada. (Yes folks, this petty shit actually takes place when lives are on the line...it's pathetic, I know)
"Uhh, oohkay....I replied...
So i do the logical thing and look for the officer in charge, their Chief.....and, well, he and I didn't say much.....in fact he didn't say a damn thing at all....ever, actually, he looked just as "amazed" as the fellow civilians who stopped with me & have never seen the "jaws of life" up close & personal.
Now, I am well aware of public Safety etiquette; "Thou shall not tell someone how to do their job while on scene in their district, (or in my case state) because everyone does it differently, BUT....in this case I had seen enough & it was OBVIOUS these fuckwads didn't have the slightest clue what they were doing, and chances were, someone's getting hurt. And judging from the medics comments and non verbals, I knew my assumption couldn't be far off.
So the only thing I could do next....start barkin orders. Now, it's not my place nor my demeanor to "butt in" on someone else's call, but it was bad, going to worse ....how ever, on a positive note.......they pulled the pre connected tool from their engine.....a step in the right direction, 10 min late, but still a step.
I told them to take the back door at the pin (latch) and they did....text book pop....even heard the guy on the tool say "well aint dat jus slicker en pig shee-it....that some bitch popped right off a dair Doo-wayne"
And "Doo-wayne" replied "what choo talkin bout" an obvious clue he wasn't paying attention. In fact, good ol "Doo-Wayne"had not been paying much attention since he arrived on scene. He had gotten him self pinned between the door & the tool on the first door pop attempt. (one of the cardinal rules of using rescue tools, NEVER place yourself between the tool & the vehicle)
The guy on the tool then switches to the cutters to take the "B" post and starts cutting into the car with the tips of the cutters (weakest part, they can break & send chunks of metal flying at great speed...not good, not to mention the back door is still attached to the post) I yelled "HEY! Hold up there Billy-Bob... (yes, I really did call him that, and honestly, he didn't seem to mind).....First, you need to totaly remove the back door." So Billy Bob takes the cutters and cuts the hinges. The door falls to the ground and Billy Bob steps onto the door and positions himself to cut the post.
"STOP!" I yelled, " Get that door the hell out of here, then make the cut, and when you go at the post, open the cutters as far as they'll go, then make your cut, and move up closer to her head (he was positioned mid-point to cut the post)
Billy-Bob asked "What bout Miss Lady's head? So I told him to have someone guid the cutter blade past her head with their hand. Clearly confused, Ol Billy Bob asks "But won't that cut the hand off instead?" Rather than explaining to process, it was easier for me to do it & show him... "Ooooh, I get it now....between the blade and the head..."
He finally gets through the in 3 cuts...not bad considering. Now it's time to cut the bottom of the post....this was another ordeal. 3 guys, who had obviously seen the benefits of understanding vehicle rescue, and now wanting to be the "hero" start fighting over who gets to cut & how.
The Medic chimes in...."Guys....it doesn't matter who, let's just get it done!"
Billy Bob stays on the tool...places the jaws on the post just above the rocker panel, then looks back at me and the medic, obviously looking for an "OK" so I give him a nod and he begins to make the cut. He finishes that, then looks back again for direction...so I tell him to do the same thing from the back side and he does. After this cut, he looks back and tells me it's no the whole way through. I explain how to reposition the tool and "connect" the two cuts. And in a few short minuets, the "B" post is removed.
Finally, we are to remove the Lady from the car and get her into the ambulance and on to better care. And the little boy was just fine.
Point if the story us this, it takes more than a shiny red fire truck and fancy tools to be a firefighter. There is training, lots of training. And more importantly, an understanding of the bigger picture. As it has traditionally been, there is a great sense of pride in our company and what we do. And every firehouse in America thinks they're the best in town....but never should that pride be prioritized over the well being of the patient.