A Day on the Firefighter's Job

John relaxed after an entirely too long day. His
legs felt heavy as they rested on the ottoman.
You know the feeling… like they’re logs and they
couldn’t be moved. He had just finished telling
his wife about the third time he had to call the
main office for tech support on the newest
computer and was directing his three-year-old
daughter to set the table when it happened.

"Beep beep beep beep!" rattled out of the awkward
pager on his belt. Most people were blissfully
unaware of its purpose. It certainly wasn’t a
high-tech pager or cellular phone; it hardly rated
as an old voice pager.

It was the most important device he carried.

After the fifth beep, the miniature speaker tuned
to a series of rising and falling notes. A voice
followed the tones, declaring the reason for the
racket. "Fire Dispatcher to all Boughton Hill
pagers and home monitors. Respond to 294 Racine
Way for the smoke-detector activation."

Adrenaline shook John’s aching muscles and
excitement propelled him into action. "Bye
Honey!" John called over his shoulder as he headed
for the door.

"Bye, Daddy," and "I love you, Johnny!" followed
him out to his car. He started the car before the
door was open and was tearing out of the driveway
while plugging in his dash-mounted blue light.

John Logan is a volunteer firefighter. It was his
fifth year in the department, and he was now on
duty. As he headed for the fire station, his mind
was already processing what he would have to do.
Chances are he’d make the first truck out – he
lived only 1/2 mile from the station.

He pulled into the parking lot, shut off the car,
and headed for the door. "Walk, John, don’t trip
and get hurt," he said to himself. He walked in
and saw that another firefighter was already on
the radio, answering the call to the dispatcher.

John stopped at his locker and pulled out his
boots and turnout pants. He kicked off his shoes
and slid his feet into the boots. Squatting, he
pulled up the turnout pants, tucked down around
the ankles. He slid his arms under the suspenders
as he stood up. Other firefighters were coming in
now, dressing as he did.

He yanked the hood out of his helmet, shoved his
head through it, and pulled it down onto his neck.
He threw on the turnout jacket, zipped it up, and
in one motion grabbed his helmet and turned to the
first engine.

A driver was already running the engine, waiting
for the crew. John jumped in back and began to
pull on the air pack hidden in the seat back.

"How many are back there?" the driver asked John.

"I saw four," he called back as he tightened the
shoulder straps.

Within seconds, the cab was filling with
firefighters. A lieutenant jumped up in the front
seat. He looked back at the assembling crew and
said to the driver, "let’s go!" With a nod, the
driver pulled the engine slowly onto the front
apron. The lieutenant started to flip on the
lights and stepped on the siren button. As the
siren whirled to life, the driver pulled onto the
road and accelerated towards 294 Racine Way.
The radio came to life: "Fifteen-zero on location
at 294 Racine Way, split-level ranch house with
smoke showing on the west side. Please dispatch
Mertensia for Mutual Aid."

"Damnit boys, we’re goin’ live!" One of the
firefighters shouted in the back seat. The
lieutenant glared at him as he keyed the
microphone, "Engine 1511 to 15-0." There is
always one too eager, the lieutenant thought.

"Go ahead 1511."

"Yes, sir, we are in route with a full crew."

"Good. The hydrant you want to hit is on the
left, two houses from the fire."

"Acknowledged." The lieutenant looked back again,
stared at the shouter, "Mark, you hit the hydrant.
Lee, Scott, you get a handline. John, you and me
will start on search and rescue." John saw
everyone nodding as he pulled his mask onto his
face. He closed his eyes and focused on settling
himself down. It was important to keep calm in
situations like these; rushing only leads to
getting somebody hurt. Search and rescue is one
of the hardest things to do, but one of the most
rewarding.

He realized that the truck had stopped and the
firefighters were climbing out. He followed Lee
out and immediately turned away from the fire,
headed for a side compartment. He opened the
compartment and pulled out an axe. He then turned
to see the lieutenant waiting for him.
John nodded and the two faced the building.

It was a fairly typical house, except for the
column of smoke pouring out of the top window.
They stared at the smoke as they approached their
chief.

"Lieutenant, we have reports of a child still in
the building. Her room is on the opposite side of
the house, but the mother doesn’t know where she
is."

"Okay. John and I are on search; Lee and Scott
are on nozzle."

"Good. Go," the chief said. John was already
headed towards the front door. The hose line team
was hooking up their air tanks. John was doing
the same as he headed up.

"Ready?" The lieutenant asked. All nodded. "Go!"
the hose team opened the door and moved in. John
focused on the reflective strip on Lee’s air pack
ahead of him. Calm, steady… steady, he mumbled to
himself. Keep calm, keep the breathing slow and
easy. He moved up the steps on all fours,
straddling the rigid hose. In seconds, he could
feel the end of the stairs. "Going left!" he
called back to his lieutenant.

A black wall waited for him at the top of the
stairs. He looked to the right, saw nothing. He
looked left, saw nothing. The smoke had completely
filled the hallway. "Man, we’re going to have a
hard time on this one," he said to himself.
Keeping his left hand on the wall so he wouldn’t
get lost, John crawled ahead, sweeping his axe
handle in front and to the side.

"Door!" John called back. He pushed open the
door and swept the axe in. He could feel the
floor. He pivoted his body in and banged his knee
on a hard surface. "Damn!" he swore. He felt the
object and realized it was a toilet. "Bathroom!
I’ll check, you stay by door!"

"Roger that. Staying by the door!" the
lieutenant’s voice called back. John continued to
crawl in, reaching behind the toilet, in the tub…
nothing. On his way out, he felt the sink –
nothing. He started to go out the door, but
stopped. Something was not right. He went back
to the sink and opened the cabinet door. He
reached in and felt bottles, a bucket, and a
bundle.

"What the –" John pulled the bundle, and it pulled
away from him. He dropped his axe and pulled the
bundle out with both hands. "Lieutenant – found
her!" he called out.

John pulled the child up to his chest, found his
axe, and duck walked to the door. "Good work,
John, I’ll lead you out." The lieutenant said.
They crawled back towards the stairs. John could
hear "15-05 to Command; we are coming out with one
victim."

John didn’t feel the steps at all on the way down.
After he pulled the bundle out, he could not feel
her breathing. He sprinted through the door and
headed towards the engine. He stopped at the edge
of the lawn and laid her down. Immediately a
swarm of blue-jacketed EMTs gathered around him.
He stood up and backed his way through the crowd.
The paramedics didn’t need him gawking from the
sidelines.

He turned and looked back at the building. The
smoke was lightening in color, showing that the
fire was nearly under control. John glanced down
at a dial at his side. There was well over half
of a tank of air left, plenty of air to go in to
help.

The lieutenant got in John’s way. "Good job,
John. Second crew is here and the fire is under
control. Why don’t you head over and relax."
John looked at the lieutenant and understood it
wasn’t a suggestion. He nodded and moved towards
the back of the engine.

By the time he got to the truck, John had removed
his helmet, mask, and hood. He sat down and
opened his coat, letting a large plume of hot air
rush out. He took another long look at the gaggle
of blue coats, watching as they loaded the victim
onto a gurney and wheeled her towards the waiting
ambulance.

John pulled his coat off and threw it on the
ground. He looked across the street of the fire
and saw two TV cameras and a few reporters
gathering, interviewing neighbors and trying to
get the attention of the chief.

The driver of the engine stepped in front of John.
"Good job, John. Fire is under control, and the
girl is breathing again. If you’re ready, the
chief said to start to clean up the scene."

"Yeah, I’m ready."

* * *

Two hours later, John flopped back into his
comfortable armchair and set his heavy legs back
on the ottoman. His daughter was asleep in her
bed (he missed her bedtime yet again), and his
wife was reheating the taco meat they had for
dinner.

He flipped on the TV just in time to catch the
news article about the fire call. The too
cheerful anchor was saying: "A fire tonight in
Boughton Hill nearly cost a family their home this
evening. Firefighters were able to put out a fire
in the bedroom in time to save the house. The
Metro Ambulance Corps reported they were able to
save a trapped child’s life."

John shrugged as his wife came in. "Honey, didn’t
you save that child?"

John nodded, still focusing on the anchors’ words:
"Paramedics reported that the child had suffered
minor smoke inhalation and was not breathing for a
short time, but she was able to be revived by EMT
Jennifer House. The family is staying at a
relative’s house until the house is cleared of the
smoke."


John turned off the TV and looked at his wife and
smiled, "It’s never about the credit or the glory.
It’s about saving the life."