Fury of the Storm
It wasn’t the silence or the lack of voices after the ground shook that struck me as unusual. It wasn’t the quivering of the puddles or the hose lines lying suddenly flat when the water pressure died. It wasn’t even the deafening boom of the building folding in on itself. But, for me, it must’ve been the static electricity in the air, the ‘buzz’ of energy that you feel when the lightening first strikes. It is so quick that you wonder what just happened and then you shiver when the sparks fly by and the your hair just sticks straight out. It was at that moment, that I realized this day would be like no other. This would be the day that nothing would ever be the same.
The rain was relentless. Some storms were like that. The sun would be the most wonderful thing in the middle of the afternoon and then without much warning, the clouds rolled in and changed the day. The call came in the middle of that changing weather pattern.
“Station 51, Truck 69, Station 18, Battalion 14, structure fire, 5811 S. Perimeter Drive, five-eight-one-one south perimeter drive, cross street, Rogers, time out, 16:25,” said the somber voice of LA dispatch.
We rolled toward the scene, readying ourselves for the blaze. We were the first to arrive and I jumped down from the cab, assessing the flames and giving directions to the rest of the incoming crews.
“LA, this is Engine 51. We need a second alarm. This building is fully involved,” I stated into the HT. It was one of the smaller malls in our area with two levels. The larger department store was encased in flames and it appeared that most of the patrons had escaped. Cars were still in the lot which could’ve meant many things.
“John, Roy, get your gear and let’s make sure everyone’s out--we’ll send in some more manpower when they get here,” I ordered.
“Right, Cap,” responded John as he strapped his air tank on. Roy tapped his shoulder and both men entered the building with confidence. That was the last I had seen of the two of them before the collapse.
The other units rolled in and so did the clouds. As much as the rain might’ve been a deterrent for the flames, it also brought new problems. Visibility, lightening and wind damage all contributed to increasing our tension. I remember the Chief at that moment giving us the order to pull out and try to contain the blaze. All the crews responded well. I repeated the order for Johnny and Roy to evacuate, also. As I clicked the HT off, the rain pounded down and the winds really kicked up. The storm unleashed its fiercest gales. We tried to keep our lines steady against the beating, but we were beginning to feel as though the entire sky was dumping the rain just over our area. Suddenly the power flicked off from the surrounding buildings as the winds tore into what was left of the mall structure. As the intense winds howled mightily, the lightening streaked across the sky and landed in the middle of the dying building.
That’s when the static electricity pushed me backwards. I watched as Marco and Chet dropped their line and hit the ground. Mike threw his arms over his head and I could only watch in horror as the collapse finally ended. It was just a moment; it was over in a moment. And in that moment, I began to understand the depth of my command, the unyielding fact that I had men now trapped or dead in that hell of a mess. The hair on my neck demanded attention as I pulled off my helmet, wiped the rain from my eyes and slapped the back of my neck to calm my fears.
“Cap!” shouted Chet amid the clamor of the rain. “They’re still in there!”
“I know, I know. Let’s prepare for a search!” I wasn’t sure that’s where Chief McConnike would put us but I knew that I needed to prepare my crew. “Battalion 14, we still have two men in that building! We’re going to need assistance!” I didn’t give him the choice.
“10-4, Engine 51. Squad 36, assist in search with Engine 51, 69 and 18, and 27, start clean up,” commanded McConnike. I didn’t doubt that he had already lined up the crews exactly as he wanted and without hesitation. I respected that quick thinking.
“Mike, we’ll be back,” I quietly said, noticing Mike’s quiet resolve reflected in his eyes.
“You’ll find ‘em, Cap.”
“Sure thing, pal.”
Dwyer and Bellingham were with us as we approached what was left of the structure. The fire had finally died out between our efforts and the rain. The rain was also slowing down and the winds were calm. It was as if that moment of fury never existed. But we knew better and we also knew that without the power, darkness would come quicker. We picked our way at the pile of rubble we thought was the entrance. It was then that we realized we were standing on what used to be the roof. My gut wouldn’t unwind. It just got tighter and I remained focused--leading my crew to find the answers we were looking for.
“Cap, did you hear that?” queried Marco.
“No, what did you hear?”
“Shhhh. . . . “ Marco put out a gloved hand. We all held our breath. Raindrops splattered on the broken rubble and distant voices and activity indicated that clean up efforts were under way.
“I know I heard something . . . I’m sure of it,” Marco continued. I looked at him and saw his pleading gaze.
“I’m sure you did, Marco. Let’s keep looking,” I could tell he wasn’t so sure about leaving this spot, so I pretended not to notice as he lingered behind us. I had to keep every option open. Right now, that was all I could do.
“ROY! JOHNNY!” yelled Dwyer. “ROY, JOHNNY!”
I was beginning to feel useless--we were getting nowhere and the rubble just seemed to go on for miles. I knew I was getting over-anxious and over-tired, but I keep pushing. They were my men. Chet, Marco and Mike were counting on me and I couldn’t stop. What next? Was I feeling too much? How was I supposed to balance the need to lead this effort and still put my feelings on hold? I pulled out my HT.
“Battalion 14, we’re going to need dogs and a Kennedy probe over here. There’s just too much rubble.”
“10-4, Engine 51, already on the way,” replied the Chief. I swear I thought I heard his grim smile as he had already anticipated my request.
We kept at it, while waiting on the dogs. The clouds were still hanging around and daylight was fast departing behind the storm. I was momentarily startled as suddenly a dog barked behind me. I turned to face our newest search members.
“Captain Stanley,” I said.
“I’m Jason and this here is Bear,” the man said as he patted the dog’s head. The dog wagged its bushy tail, anticipating his task. His blonde coat was wet with the rain and he nuzzled Jason, obviously enjoying the attention. “We’ll help you get started and send for reinforcements.”
“Good,” I turned back toward my crew. “They entered at the entrance and were doing a search and rescue, then I called them back out. So, we’re hoping they didn’t get too far in.” I removed my helmet and rubbed my head. It was going to be a long night.
Jason and Bear started off ahead of us as we spread out some more, looking and listening the best we could. Another truck pulled in and I immediately recognized it’s outline. They were bringing in the lights. Good. Maybe we wouldn’t need them for long.
The dog began barking loudly and continuously. Jason waved his arm. My heart skipped a beat. We ran over to the excited dog and his partner.
“I think Bear has found something,” Jason stated.
My heart skipped a beat. My sweaty palms made my gloves feel slick on the inside. What was I going to face? My fear was firmly entrenched and I did everything I could to keep from shaking.
“What’cha got, Jason?”
I noticed the dog whimpering and scratching at the concrete slab. He was growling while my head began spinning. Dear God, keep them alive.
The concrete slab was intertwined with steel rods and debris of all kinds. The air was thick with residual smoke and the puddles from the storm and our hoses were draining to lower ground. As I peered under the slab that the dog was standing on, I worked at finding my voice.
“Roy? John? Can you hear me? Are you in there?”
Nothing. Nothing but that incessant whimpering from the dog. It had to be them.
“Cap? Do you hear anything?” Marco asked as he came up behind me.
“Nah, I can’t hear anything . . . you wanna try?”
Marco leaned into the dark crevice and called out. “Johnny? Roy? Where are you?” Marco looked up at me with his dark eyes. “I can’t barely see in there, Cap.”
“CHET! Bring me the light!” I yelled over where Chet and and Dwyer were moving more debris searching for our paramedics. Chet responded quickly and jogged over with his light. I took it from him and directed the beam under the slab. Immediately, I caught my breath as I spotted a hand under that slab. “Roy? Johnny?” No response.
“Marco, call the Chief--I think we’ve found them. We’ve got to get some man power to move this slab,” I instructed quickly. My voice faltered as I looked back at the hand. There was a wedding band on the ring finger-- Roy, dear God, it’s Roy. “Quickly--we don’t have much time!”
The panic continued to rise from my belly and I clamped down on it real quick. I’m in front of the crew and I’ve got to stay steady--that’s what you learn in leadership positions. No matter how awful, how much fear you have, how you feel . . . you have no choice--if I fall apart, well, then what’s the point? I reached down for Roy’s hand. That was my permission to feel, to stay connected through the turmoil of raging responsibilities in this rescue. Where’s the pulse, come on, Roy.
“I’ve got a pulse! Let’s move it!”
Then it was blur of activity. The power equipment combined with the men’s voices remained constant as we struggled with the heavy concrete slab covering Roy. Dwyer squatted near the hole that exposed Roy’s hand. He monitored what he could, talking under the noise, as if Roy could hear him. Must’ve been more for Dwyer’s sanity then for Roy. That was his way of reconciling the many worse-case scenarios that goes through our minds as we dig and uncover. All of us were still agonizing over Johnny and what we would find. We remained focused as the last piece of concrete was removed.
Roy was face down on top of more rubble. His right arm was not visible and he was unconscious.
Dwyer yelled out, “Okay, let’s get that backboard over here!”
Chet was ready and with Marco’s help, they gently rolled Roy onto the board. His right arm was a mess. All I could see was a tattered turnout coat sleeve mixed with blood. Dwyer concentrated on securing Roy and splinting up his arm.
“Rampart, this is Squad 36, do you read?”
“Go ahead, Squad 36,” responded Brackett. I recognized the deep growl of his voice. It was getting late.
“Rampart, we have a 28 year old male, trapped firefighter just extricated from a building collapse. Vitals are respiration 24, pulse 80, and b/p is 120/80. Right arm appears to be . . .crushed.”
“Squad 36, what’s the pupil response?”
I rubbed my face as I pulled away from my focus on Roy. I had to move back and find Johnny. The rest of the crews were already digging again. The lights were moved in closer and the moon began peeking through the fading storm clouds. I glanced again at the moon and sighed. All the forces of nature seemed to have danced on this spot in LA and now they were moving on to the next dance. The moment was interrupted by Chet’s cry.
“Cap! We’ve got him! Johnny!”
I jogged back to the pile of rubble and waited as Bellingham shifted out of the small, black opening. A light drizzle began to fall and his face was caked with dust and grime.
“He’s in there, Cap. I just can’t get close enough to touch him,” Bellingham panted.
“Okay, Bob, let’s get you some relief,” I stated, looking around at the men. “Chet, see what you can do, pal.”
The look of determination and fear played on Kelly’s face as he crawled into the hole. The rest of the men kept moving smaller blocks of debris, shoring up the area. I begin the cumbersome process of cataloging my emotions again, while waiting on the crew to reach him. It’s a burden that I have often felt, commanding them to their task and setting the expectations. We never expect to be leading a rescue effort for one of our own, but we accept that as part of our profession--we know the possibility is real. I rearranged my doubts and hopes. We’re going to get him out, alive--we had to.
“Cap!” Chet yelled. “I can reach him!”
His tone frightened me. “What’cha got, Chet?”
“He’s . . . he’s bleeding pretty bad. Um, it looks like there’s a . . .a beam of some sort pinning him down. Across the chest,” Chet’s voice was shaky. I began processing his words while the fear clamped down in my gut.
“Chet, can you tell where he’s bleeding from? Can you put pressure on it?” yelled Bob from behind me. He obviously heard Chet, too.
“I think so. Looks like . . . top of the collarbone. He’s pretty clammy.”
“Cap, we’ve got to hurry. Sounds like he’s going into shock. And with that blood loss, there’s no telling how much time we’ve got,” Bob anxiously replied. He mirrored my fear with his own eyes.
Bricks, stones, glass, metal, re-bar, tiles, cement and water all combined to provide a background of destruction that made me shiver and threatened to encase me with all its passion. The lights worked eerie shadows across the debris and the drizzle blanketed the scene. I turned to my HT.
“Battalion 14, Engine 51. We’re gonna need a crane in here or the tractor, Chief. We’ve got to move a cement beam as quick as possible.”
“10-4, Engine 51--on the way,” McConnike responded.
I turned back toward the men removing the debris. “Okay, we’ve got some equipment on the way--let’s keep shoring up that hole!” I watched as Bob was handing Chet some oxygen equipment through the opening to Gage. Watching paramedics through the years, I continue to be amazed at the wide variety of scenarios they have to work with to save their victim. Now, Gage was our victim and time was quickly running out. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, blurring my vision. I took a deep breath and returned to Roy’s side.
“How’s he doing?”
Dwyer looked up at me and remained professional.
“He’s stable, Cap. But, his arm’s a mess. We’re packaging him up right now. Ambulance is here.”
Good man, Dwyer. “Uh, Charlie, what about Gage?”
“From what Bob is saying, we might need an airlift, Cap. That bleeding is critical,” Dwyer gripped the IV bag with his teeth as we lifted Roy to the gurney. I glanced at my senior paramedic, lying there so still and pale. I patted his shoulder, “Hang in there, pal.” It was all I could muster, all I could say so that I could remain focused on getting Gage out.
The ambulance roared away and I opened the mic again on the HT. “LA, Engine 51, we’re going to need a chopper for airlift here.”
“10-4, Engine 51.”
As I shoved the HT in my coat, one of our heavy equipment cranes moved in to the debris field. The team shifted its hook and cables while the rest of the men directed its placement.
I went to hold the tank steady while its line of life-giving oxygen snaked into the hole Chet was plastered in. Bob was on the bio-phone again, giving Rampart an update. Marco, Mike and the crew from Station 18 continued lifting the concrete and debris from the top of this trap. The roar of the crane blocked out the distant thunder of the angry clouds gathering overhead. I looked up, noticing the moon no longer watched over us. I cringed as a closer boom of thunder roamed over our rescue effort. The hair on my neck rose again recognizing another storm front moving in. Then the rain came.
We continued to shout to each other as the rain pelted down hard. We were too close and somehow I felt this storm stretching and reaching to stop us from getting our last man out. I became aware that I started personalizing this event of nature. Maybe, my addled brain couldn’t deal with the pressure in any other way. The science of command is how we handle the strain. The art of command is how long we survive.
“Cap!” I heard Chet’s muffled cry.
“Chet, you okay in there?”
“Yea, but things are getting slippery around here. How much longer?”
Bob and I looked up at the crane, watching as they secured the lines around the concrete.
“Any minute now, Chet. How’s Gage doing?”
“I’m still holding pressure--can’t tell much--he’s getting the oxygen. Just hurry!”
Debris shifted now as the cables groaned in the wind and rain, swaying with the weight of the beam being lifted. Everyone held their breath, and I noticed that I was gripping the tank extra hard. My fingers began tingling and I realized that I was holding my breath, too. The rain continued its relentless pursuit of my anger.
I climbed up to the hole on top of the debris to get a better look. The beam was lifted and begin its shift to the left. Looking down, we noticed more debris but a definite opening to the next level. Marco was working on securing his lifeline.
“Wait a minute, Marco.” I had to study the hole. I needed to make the right decision and not endanger anyone else. Thunder cracked loudly overhead and I lifted my face to the driving rain.
“I’m gonna fit in there better than you. Let me go ahead.” I told Marco.
Marco knew by my look that my decision was final. I was skinner and knew I could stretch further into the hole. Time was critical and I felt the storm bearing down harder. I secured the lifeline and made sure my HT was in my coat.
“Okay, boys, let’s have the stokes ready. Bob, I’ll relay to you when I get to him.”
Bob nodded and wiped the water from his face. Marco slapped my back and Mike wrapped the line around his waist. I made sure the repel down was short and sweet. I kicked away at the small piles of rubble making the hole smaller.
“Chet, can you hear me?”
His muffled reply came through the pounding rain. “Yea, Cap! You’re pretty close!”
The blackness of the hole slipped around me. I pulled the HT out.
“HT 51 to Engine 51. Mike, I need some more light down here! We’re close!”
“10-4, HT 51.”
Beams of light pierced through the black shroud of destruction. The rain poured in and all I could see was sheets of water mixed with so many shades of gray that I could easily misjudge whether I was up or down. Thankfully, my lifeline kept me balanced. I jumped two more feet down through a maze of re-bar and sheet-rock. A low, rumble of thunder shuddered my every nerve as it bolted across the cloud cover. I got down on my hands and knees, clawing and pulling each small piece that blocked my path to Gage.
“Chet!” I wanted to confirm my progress.
“Okay, Cap, okay!” Chet sounded the closest yet.
As I moved forward towards Chet’s voice, I immediately gasped, taking in the scene before me. I made sure my flashlight was secure in my shaking hand. There before me was Gage, covered in a combination of cement pieces and tiles on his back. A metal beam lay across his chest and torso and Chet’s arm was firmly placed on his collarbone. The oxygen mask was fogged with Gage’s labored breathing.
“Chet, I’m here, pal!”
“Great! Now what?” Chet asked, his voice an octave higher than normal.
“Let me take over the pressure and you get topside, help send the stokes down!”
I made sure there were no obvious breaks in his legs as I moved over him in the tight space. I set the flashlight down, propped on some sort of block and used both my hands to clear the metal bars. As I shifted the weight off of him, I watched the hole, making sure nothing else shifted with it. I looked up and felt more rain slosh off my helmet. What a mess. My hands were slick with sweat and mud, but I wasn’t going to let up. Just as heavy as the rain fell, so did my determination increase to get Gage out alive.
The metal beam lay along side Gage now, and I got a clear place to put pressure on his bleeding shoulder. “Okay, Chet, I got him. Move, now!”
I made sure my knees didn’t put pressure anywhere on Gage. The light was limited, so I couldn’t see much more than a man practically buried alive. Whatever mode I was in, I was locked in tight. I kept hearing the thunder keeping rhythm with my heartbeat. I was now concerned that the stokes wouldn’t have space to get in here. With my free hand, I pulled out the HT.
“HT 51 to Engine 51. Do you copy?” I had to yell over the rain.
“10-4, HT 51,” came Mike’s reply.
“Engine 51, relay to Squad 36 that victim is still bleeding, skin is clammy and breathing remains labored. Pulse is 80 and respiration is 24.”
I waited for a response and got a response I wasn’t expecting . . .from Gage. He moaned and began shifting his legs, obviously coming around from the delivered oxygen to his injured system.
“Hang in there, pal. We’re getting you out of here,” I tried acting calm.
His head lolled back and forth, fighting whatever gripped his attempt to regain consciousness. I tried to get my glove off to touch his face, hoping to help him understand his surroundings.
“HT 51, Squad 36, keep pressure on that bleeding, Cap. We’ve got the stokes almost there.”
Banging metal against metal and re-bar brought my attention to the hole. The stokes was almost here. Now, getting Gage in it was my next challenge. I made sure I gently placed my flashlight on top of his bleeding shoulder to maintain the pressure as I shifted my weight to grab the stokes. “SLACK!” I yelled, hoping someone actually heard me! Everything was so slick and wet. I felt like I was moving through the deepest of oceans as time teased my rain-drenched head and I moved Gage into the stokes.
Gage was shaking now as I disconnected the oxygen line and strapped him in. I knew our time was short and didn’t bother with the usual protocol in packaging him up. Just get him in tight and let’s get out of here. I yanked on my lifeline and yelled into the HT.
“HT 51 to Engine 51, let’s get him up, now!” I felt the urgency increase as water pooled around us in this crazy mess of debris. The stokes started up with a jolt and Gage cried out. I felt my nerves grind against the blackboard of my gut as I heard his cry. I could see the fierce pain moving through him and I tried to reach out to him to steady his fear and mine.
“We’re almost there Johnny. Hang on, we’re almost there, pal.” I stretched to follow the stokes but couldn’t reach him. “Damn it!” I had to simply look up and watch.
A crash of lightening broke through the clouds, illuminating the hole and our ascent. The men on the top looked down at us with focus and determination to see this through. I had to put my face down again to keep the rain from blinding me. Gage was only whimpering small sounds interrupted with groans. He struggled against the straps and thankfully didn’t have the strength to do much more.
It was slow progress, but progress. The stokes barely cleared the small pathway. I felt that threading a needle would’ve been an easier task today. Wind whipped around the site and blew the rain into our faces. Suddenly, the stokes screeched against some re-bar debris. Both our lines stopped as the crew determined what happened. I tried to look to the side to see what was in our way, but the rain wouldn’t stop.
“Cap! Can you hear me?” yelled Marco.
“Yea! What’s going on?”
“Looks like some re-bar is tangled up on the side. We need to get it cut!”
Beams of light danced around us as they found the spot that impeded our release from this debris. I inched closer into the other side of the stokes, knocking my helmet off. I couldn’t grab it time as it fell past my legs. The rain seemed to enjoy my predicament and cascaded harder on my unprotected head. I wasn’t ready to give up. I stretched to Gage’s arm and felt the pulse. He had pretty much stopped struggling once we stopped. Weak, but there. “Okay, Gage, small stop here, but don’t take it for granted.”
I tried to figure out how you found the right words to soothe the victim. I’m trained to handle any emergency situation, and yet, I struggled to do the simple thing that might calm my victim and that was finding the right words. I had watched Gage do it every time, every situation, no matter what it was. He had a talent for it and he had that sixth sense to know what to say. And it always seemed to make the difference. My frustration threatened to do me in while the thunder mocked me. No way. Not now, not today, I swore. I don’t care how much it hurts.
“Cap, we’re sending down the K-12 with Chet--you’re only about five feet away!” yelled Marco.
Agility, strength and fortitude, all had to be balanced as Gage and I hung there, halfway to freedom from this storm’s fury. Whatever power was responsible for this outburst, wasn’t going to get my men, nor claim victory. That was my job, my commitment as their leader and I wasn’t going to let them down.
Sparks flew as I heard the roar of the K-12 open up. The rain didn’t let up and the noise was overwhelming. I could only imagine the concentration on Chet’s face as he cut away the steel trap. Gage was out and I was thankful for the small respite.
“Okay, Cap, we’ve got it!” Chet yelled.
The lines began moving again and I groaned as the stokes rubbed against my arm. Water splashed and sloshed around the men working the lines and I embraced the lights as we emerged from that hole. Hands grabbed the stokes and more hands grabbed me, lifting me off my feet as I struggled to find my balance.
“I’m okay, let’s move it!” I barked, my hair in my face and the rain driving my anger deeper.
I watched as Bob had already bent over Gage, taking his vitals and relaying them to Brice, who had joined us after Dwyer left. I wiped the water from my forehead, pulling out the HT.
“Battalion 14, Engine 51, no chopper, right?” I knew the answer.
“10-4, Engine 51, we’ve got the ambulance on the way,” came the grim reply.
I slammed the HT back in my coat and ran over to Bob. “No airlift, we can’t get past this damn storm,” I informed him.
“We’ll do what we can, you know.” It was as simple as that.
The intensity of this moment, after fighting our way through the fire, the collapse, the search, the digging out, the whole effort, mocked and scorned by nature’s very own, I could think of nothing else other than “why?” Fatigue began to cover me like a shroud and I began to tremble. Why did this happen and why to my men? Was I prepared for this? Am I prepared for the outcome--I send them in and we all know the risk, but was it worth it? Were we too late, were we quick and efficient? The scream of the ambulance’s sirens shook me to the core and the cold, driving rain pushed me further into withdrawal. A hand clasped my shoulder and I gazed at the knowing eyes staring at me through the sheets of rain.
“Hank, go to the hospital. The station is off-duty. Go on,” McConnike said.
I looked at McConnike and mumbled my thanks. Mike grabbed my arm as I swayed with weariness. Marco and Chet followed us and I looked into the fading lights, rain jumping through the beams. The storm hissed and splashed at every puddle we walked through. I closed my eyes as Big Red rumbled through curtains of the downpour. My rage was cornered for the moment knowing that its release wouldn’t happen right now. I wasn’t ready for facing my diminished spirit, just yet.
*******
“ . . . CPR . . . V-fib didn’t convert over until the third time . . . stabilized . . ., Cap?”
I really was trying to listen, but that knot of fear was in my head and spinning me around. I guess Mike noticed, as he guided my to the chair. I had to remain professional, but the weariness was all encompassing. I looked back at Bob.
“I’m sorry, just tired. Go on, Bob.”
“Well, we got him stabilized by the time we hit the doors. They’ve taken him up to surgery. That’s about all I know,” Bob rubbed his face and sighed. “I’m beat, too. I’ll check back later, okay?”
“Okay,” Mike replied for me. I looked over at Chet who was leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Marco smiled politely as Bob left the lounge. Mike took off his turnout coat and laid it on the table. He handed me a couple of towels that smelled of antibacterial soap. At least they were dry. I rubbed my head with the towel, feeling thankful for the break from the that damn rain. Was I ready for the clearing of the clouds?
I sighed and picked up the other dry towel. My feet were hopeless but I tried to dab at my drenched shoes. As I sat down on the couch the lounge door opened up and Dr. Brackett walked in, grim face firmly in place.
“Gentlemen,” he stated.
“Well, Doc?” I knew he had a duty to perform just as we did.
“We’re moving Roy to a room right now. He’s suffered several breaks in the right arm. We’ve put on a temporary cast until the swelling is reduced. Then we can operate and repair as much as we can. He’s pretty bruised up and is certainly suffering from a concussion. We’ve given him pain meds and sedatives,” Brackett took a breath.
“There’s more,” I said, flatly. I recognized that twitch when Brackett wasn’t happy.
“Yes, Hank, there is. I’m afraid that my initial exam of the crushed arm shows damage to the brachial nerves. We call it a brachial plexus injury. It means that there’s a strong chance the arm is beyond repair. He won’t be able to use it again.”
The silence in the room only amplified the pounding rain on the windows. I glared at the storm clouds that refused to break this evening.
“I’ll know more after we repair the breaks in the bone.”
What could I say? Mike closed his eyes, Marco prayed silently and Chet simply stood there, jaw open with unbelieving eyes. “Uh, Doc, what about Johnny?”
“Well, he’s in surgery right now. He’s in critical condition with a broken clavicle and a ruptured aorta. They have him on a by-pass machine right now, preparing to repair the valve. It could be hours before we know more. I’m so sorry, Hank,” Brackett tried to find me as I drifted back toward the windows. “I’ll keep you updated, guys.”
I held back my own anger unlike this blasted storm. It was relentless, pounding everything in its way and assaulting all the senses. It mocked me again, tonight, spitting at my glassy glare and claiming its victory by shouting across the heavens with incessant booms of thunder and cracks of lightening. I knew in my heart that nothing would ever be the same but I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
I turned and watched Chet lunge out of the room. I knew he needed to be separate for the moment because we all were feeling the loosening of our bonds. The constant threat of this kind of unraveling of a crew is always around the corner, and we know to expect it. But, we never know how it will come. We can only clutch to our basic belief in our safety each and every rescue. Now, our assumption that we were safe was shattered along with our trust in our calling. My father would’ve said to just deal with it and go on. We are duty-bound to protect and serve our every neighbor, no matter the cost. I drifted into a restless nap with those thoughts churning around.
*******
It’s been a week. I’m talking with the head doctor like Headquarters ordered,
but I don’t think it will change much of how I feel. I know they talk about
“secondary trauma” and all that pyscho-babble about our jobs and that how we
handle the post-traumatic stress is important. So, I’ll comply. I leaned back
in my chair, savoring each creak and groan coming from that movement, recalling
Dr. Brackett’s diagnosis last night.
“Johnny’s still in a coma. We’ve noticed a slight reduction in the brain swelling, but not enough to know more. And, I’m afraid with the potential risk of bleeding or stroke from the repaired aorta, he won’t qualify for the field any longer. Just keep talking with him, though. I believe coma patients know you’re there. I wish I had better news for you, Hank.”
Yea, that was the final score. Station 51, down by two. Roy’s arm would never function normally again--no more IV’s or hauling hose. And then to see Johnny after that by-pass surgery. It was enough to make me crack and finally let myself cry. Brackett simply confirmed what I had already known. Roy and Johnny were not the only victims that night. Each of us felt our soul diminish a bit more as we all lost something, washed away with that storm.
“Uh . . .Cap .. .I’m heading over to the hospital,” I heard Chet as he loitered in my doorway. Our shift had ended half an hour ago.
“Okay, pal,” I sighed. “Want some company?”
“I know Johnny wouldn’t mind,” Chet quietly said.
Yea, we rescued our own and saved their lives. That was our calling and our duty. Now, I had to figure out how to complete this rescue and record it in the log book. I’ll just have to give it my best. We all will.
“Let’s go and tell him about today’s exciting rescue at the hot-dog stand, okay?” I grinned, forcing the smile on my face.
“Thanks, Cap.”
*******
It was my desire to acknowledge (and honor) the weight of command out in the field after listening to District Fire Chief Michael O. McNamee of Worcester, MA. Between reading his interviews and knowing lots of great leaders, I wanted to highlight our beloved Captain Stanley with this inspiration.
My extreme gratitude to Sue and Mia for beta-reading and helpful edits! Couldn’t have finished this without your support! And thanks again to Tig and all the other website owners who work so hard to keep E! alive and kicking for all the fans!
*Click above to send Robin W. feedback
Guest Dispatchers Stories by Robin W.
