No Second Chances
The trees were bare. Against a stark backdrop of charcoal and ashes, the trees were only skeletal remains of what once was a full forest of lush pines, giant maples and many other varieties of shrub, bush and fauna. The air remained thick with a blanket of smog and dust. Layers of twigs, moss and leaves were no more, leaving the top soil exposed to the newest danger . . .rain. It had only been last month that the wildfires raged through the mountainous terrain of the San Gabriel Wilderness area and beyond. Small rodents skittered through twisted forest debris looking for cover as the first raindrops fell.
* * * * * * *
“Firefighter rescue is one of the most challenging situations you'll ever face on the fireground.” (Jim McCormack, Firefighter Rescue - The Ultimate Fireground Challenge)
* * * * * *
“Okay, men, let’s review,” Stanley said as he looked at his team. He flipped the pages of the recent manual sent down by Headquarters. Updated procedures were a constant and necessary piece of business and today’s was no different. He listened intently as the members of his crew began explaining the material back to him. He nodded, acknowledging their understanding and took a small moment to enjoy the fact that this was the best team he’d ever had. It was something he never wanted to take for granted.
“ . . .and be sure that Gage’s ‘disaster magnet’ is turned off before we head into the burning building,” Chet said without cracking a smile.
“Shut up, Chet!” Johnny retorted.
“That’s enough. Chet.”
“Yeah, but Cap, it’s a well known fact that Gage attracts trouble, and . . . “
“Chet, I oughta . . “ Johnny rolled his eyes and was gearing up for his comeback.
“I said, enough,” Stanley intervened. “We’ve all had our challenging moments, shall we say? Let’s just leave it at that.” Stanley was thankful that this exchange was nothing more than the usual Kelly-Gage love/hate fest that would occur during deeper discussions.
Stanley wrapped up the discussion. “Let’s just remember these techniques, keep our calm, communicate the situation, and use our teamwork. That’s it for now. What’s for dinner, Marco?”
“Well . . .”
“Station 51, Engine 36, structure fire, 1145 Horseshoe Bend, cross street, Highland, 1145 Horseshoe Bend, cross street, Highland. Time out 18:36.”
As though it were a well-rehearsed dance, the men swiftly headed to their vehicles and donned helmets, focusing on the job ahead of them. Sirens blaring and dodging the evening traffic, the squad and engine arrived first on the scene.
Stanley began shouting out assignments and noted the house was heavily involved. Now, it was a matter of protecting the surrounding houses. He sighed as he wiped the few droplets of rain from his handie talkie.
* * * * * * *
She quickly scooped up the last of the plates and dropped them in the sink with a sigh. The last groups of teenagers were nothing but loud. But, she thought it was great to hear lots of discussions over the workshops they had attended that afternoon. She was also glad that the recent wildfires didn’t stop the normally scheduled youth retreat at the camp. The San Gabriel area was a perfect backdrop for the eleven church groups that made the trip and the week-long schedule was full of promise and excitement.
Since they had to cancel several of the hiking trips, the leadership team had re-arranged the schedule to include an unannounced concert by some local bands. She was looking forward to tomorrow evening’s “surprise” for the kids.
As she finished the last of the dishes, she hung the towels over the large sink and then stepped out to the porch of the cafeteria style building. She could faintly smell charred wood as the breeze picked up a little. The breeze also brought along a few rain drops that she felt against her face. It was a nice feeling.
* * * * * * *
The clouds rolled in slowly, drifting lazily to cover the bright moon. A gentle breeze skirted the ground picking up loose ash and pushing aside other burned forest debris from its path. The rain drops became more plentiful as the clouds gathered closer together. A dense fog started to form to take place of the smoggy air and bare trees. The rain grew steadier. It had come to wash away the charred remains of a forest. However, after several hours of the steady downpour, the tender top soil couldn’t absorb the relentless beating. The soil began to shift.
* * * * * * *
“Man, I’m glad that family wasn’t home,” Johnny remarked as they headed back to the station. He rubbed his face, feeling the soot from the fire.
“Yea, that was pretty devastating—They’ve lost everything,” Roy responded. “But, you’re right—no injuries this time.”
Both men contemplated their latest rescue which didn’t amount to much. Although they couldn’t save the house, they were able to manage protection of the surrounding homes. It was one of the few times that Johnny reflected they didn’t have to deal with injuries. Just working the fire was a nice diversion from all the pain and suffering they usually saw.
“So, ya think we might be able to sleep some tonight?” Johnny asked, looking out at the steady rain.
“Well, with this weather, probably not.”
“Yea, I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Maybe we can finish dinner?” Roy sounded hopeful.
Johnny leaned back into the seat and smiled. He enjoyed his friendship with Roy and was thankful that they also got to work together. Some tried to define the brotherhood of the fire department, but Johnny didn’t bother with the whys. He simply relished the camaraderie of his best friend and teammates and knew that most people didn’t have that much job satisfaction. He even enjoyed Chet’s antics, though he wouldn’t admit it publicly. He couldn’t imagine doing anything different or working with a different crew.
“Earth to Johnny?” Roy pulled him from his reverie.
Johnny looked at his partner and kept his smile. “Yea?”
“Just wondering what was keeping you so occupied?”
“Oh, just watching the rain. Man, after those wildfires, this is sure a nice change of pace.”
“Let’s just hope that the erosion isn’t too bad,” Roy commented.
Stanley greeted Johnny and Roy as they pulled into the bay.
“Guys. Listen, we just got a weather bulletin. Looks like the weather front’s stalling out which means more rain. Be sure to have the squad stocked up,” he said.
“Sure, Cap. Any problems yet?” Johnny inquired.
“Some runoff on some roadways. Some backyard issues. Hopefully, it’ll just be minor stuff.”
Johnny nodded and followed Roy to double check the compartments of the squad. The men knew that with the recently burned off vegetation from the wildfires, that the threat of mudslides increased. As much as officials kept citizens aware of shoring up their residences and paying attention to the threat, it was never enough and people still found themselves in trouble.
* * * * * **
“Aauggghh! Henry!!” Johnny shouted as he let Henry in from his late night outing before bed. Henry has somehow created a muddy path of footprints on his way in from the rain. “Stupid dog! Man, I don’t believe this!” Johnny lamented.
Roy and Chet peered into the dayroom to see what the shouts were about. Roy tried to keep his grin from his face as he watched his partner grapple with the long basset hound. Henry was oblivious to the problem and simply wanted to get to his spot on the couch for the evening.
“Geez, Gage, haven’t you trained him yet to clean his paws?” Chet asked.
“Can it, Chet and go get the mop!” Johnny yelled as he rolled up the muddy towel for the wash.
“Uh, Johnny, ya need some help?” Roy offered.
“No. I’ll just mop this up. What a mess! Where’d he go to get so muddy?”
“Don’t know, partner.”
Stanley came in to check out the commotion. “What a mess!”
“Sorry, Cap. I’m getting it cleaned up,” Johnny explained.
Chet wheeled the mop and bucket toward Johnny. “Well, at least you’ll get a good work-out before bed. It’s good for you, you know!”
Johnny only grumbled and grabbed the mop from Chet.
Stanley clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Let Johnny finish this up and let’s hit the sack! This rain’s making me sleepy!” He looked over as Henry made himself comfortable on the vinyl couch. He let out a satisfied grunt. “And you . . stay out of the mud!”
“Don’t stay up too late, Gage. You need all the beauty sleep you can get!” Chet smiled as he walked by Johnny.
“Ha, ha, ha,” Johnny groused as Chet, Cap, and Roy headed to the dorm room. “Hope you enjoyed that, you stupid dog, you!”
Johnny shook his head as wondered if there could be any lazier dogs around. Despite the extra chore, though, he enjoyed the rhythm of the rain and looked forward to some sleep. Thunder clapped in the distance and Johnny looked out the window. All he saw was darkness and rain. He rinsed out the mop and pulled it back toward the closet. Satisfied that the floor was once again clean and safe, he shut out the lights and yawned, heading to bed. He glanced at the alarm on the wall and said a silent prayer for a quiet evening.
* * * * * * *
The rain had been coming down for hours now. The remnants of charred forest debris became soaked and buried into the delicate top soil. What bark was left on the bare trees peeled off and fell silently to the rain-soaked forest floor. Hiking trails became small creeks of flowing water, washing away any soil, rocks, and leaves. Some of the smaller trees succumbed to the relentless runoff of water and toppled into the running downpour. The smaller creeks turned into larger rivers that ran down the slopes and into the valleys.
Beyond the neighborhood backyards and the roads that were feeling the brunt of the newest rain, lay the small youth camp off a rural dirt road. Fifteen-passenger vans peppered the gravel lot. The dorm houses were quiet with sleeping teenagers and youth leaders. The creek that ran beside the camp swelled and water seeped over the banks.
A surging stream of water and mud began making its way down the slopes and into the campground. A gray sea of mud began sloshing the foundations of the dorm houses and the early morning silence was broken with the first thundering roar of a house caving in to the merciless sea of mud.
* * * * * * *
The tones sounded bleaker than normal or maybe that was because he wasn’t fully awake. Stumbling into his turnouts and boots, Johnny sleepily strapped them on and joined his teammates as they shuffled quickly out to the dorm room. Roy was already strapping his helmet on as he handed the paper to Johnny and Johnny clumsily grabbed it. He had to rub the sleep out of his eyes again to see the address clearer.
“Angeles National Forest?”
Roy didn’t look at his partner as he maneuvered onto the rain slick street. “Mudslide. Youth camp.” His words were short and quick. Roy gripped the wheel and concentrated on the road.
Johnny leaned forward after finishing the strap to his helmet and sighed. “Oh, man . . “
* * * * * *
As Station 51 arrived at the top of the mountain, the Battalion Chief had already set up a triage area. Search and rescue had begun before extra units were called, like 51. Due to the nature of the slide, crews had to come down the mountain since the roads had washed away. Stanley looked over the area as Mike pulled the engine through the maze of rigs, squads and ambulances. Morning had just dawned and the rain still draped the scenery. Stanley climbed down and reported to Chief McConnike.
“Hank, I’ll need your crew helping to shore up the banks along side these two houses, after a search exercise,” McConnike pointed with his hands to the valley. “We’re not sure how many are still in there. At last count we’re missing about thirty kids. They had a retreat going on. I’ll have 36’s on the way to assist.”
“Okay, Chief, we’re on the way,” Stanley responded pulling out his handie talkie. “Squad 51, we’re going down; get your gear. We’re gonna have to do search and rescue and get them back here to triage. In and out!”
“10-4, Engine 51.”
Johnny looked at Roy and grinned. “Great, more mud! I don’t think a mop will work here!”
Donning their turnout coats, Johnny and Roy slung ropes and belts over their shoulders while the rest of the engine crew grabbed their own gear. Like a well-oiled machine, they moved as one and hiked the short distance to the houses that were still standing. Other crews were handling rescue operations at one of the houses that had collapsed. They noted that the mud was everywhere and was still moving. Stanley made each one check their belts and ropes.
“Johnny, Roy, check out this house; we’ll move on to the next one!” shouted Stanley above the rain and noise of rescue operations. “Chet and Marco, let’s move!”
Johnny and Roy tied their lifelines together and trudged through the flowing mud. Rain continued to pour down drenching their coats and ran into their gloves. They focused on getting into the house in which the first floor was already a foot under mud and water.
“Anyone here!?” shouted Johnny. “Fire Department!”
Roy continued to work up toward the staircase. Both men concentrated on their mud covered boots, each step carefully balanced against the swirling gray sea. Climbing up the stairs allowed them to pull out of the mud for the moment. An eerie silence surrounded them as they made it to the second floor. They found several rooms with empty bunks.
“Fire Department! Anyone here? Hello!?” Johnny continued.
They both stopped for a minute looking around and listening.
“I heard something. Back in there,” Roy said, pointing toward a room off the main bunk room.
“HELLO! LA County FIRE DEPARTMENT!”
“h . h ..e lp . .help us!” the quiet plea came to their ears.
Johnny and Roy moved quickly toward the room. Opening the smaller door, Johnny peered in and found six huddled girls with blankets and tears.
“It’s okay, girls. We’re gonna get you out of here. I’m Johnny and this is Roy,” Johnny said, trying to ease their fear.
“We didn’t know what to .. .to . . d . .d o,” a young girl stated while shivering.
“Keep those blankets around you and try to stay warm. We gonna hook you to these belts and get you topside.”
Roy thumbed his handie-talkie. “Engine 51, Squad 51. We’ve found six teenage girls. No injuries, but we’re gonna need some manpower.”
“10-4, Squad 51. Battalion 14, Engine 51. We’re gonna need some more manpower. We’ve found six girls here. Nothing so far in the second house,” Stanley reported.
“10-4, Engine 51. Station 36 is on their way. ETA 3 minutes with extra belts and ropes.”
“10-4, Battalion 14.”
Stressed joists of lumber creaked under the swirling gray sea of mud. Johnny and Roy, having some respite from the pouring rain, gathered more blankets, coats and hats for the girls. Despite no injuries, they were beginning to suffer from hypothermia.
“Johnny, Roy? Is that you!?” came a shout came from the staircase.
“Good deal,” Johnny said to Roy, clapping him on the back as he walked by greet their help.
“Hey, Dwyer! Up here! We’ve got six scared teenagers up here!”
Dwyer and his partner, Cole, helped Johnny and Roy tie off ropes and life belts for each of the girls. They explained the process of keeping everyone on a rope and lifeline and basically following the leader out, hanging onto their partner. Having found no one in the other house, the rest of the 51 crew assisted in partnering up with the girls.
Coming down off the staircase proved the most difficult for the firefighters. Fighting the swirling mud was a constant battle of strength and concentration. With additional help from other units they created a line that helped in handing the girls across the gray mud.
Johnny followed Roy as he carried the last girl down the staircase. The foundation of the house began to crumble on the backside facing what used to be the creek. Squalls of rain fell harder, promoting the gray sea of mud to move faster. Suddenly, the staircase shifted and Johnny felt a loss of balance as he watched the wall tear away from the banister. Roy had already reached the floor and felt the staircase give way under his heels. He turned and watched in horror as Johnny fell with the crumbling wall. The mud grew faster and Roy had no choice but to hold on tight to the wailing, frightened girl in his arms.
“JOHNNY!” he managed to yell.
“ROY! This way, now!” Roy turned toward Marco’s voice as he came up to Roy amid the swirling muddy madness. He took over Roy’s victim.
“We need help!” Roy cried. He attempted to turn back toward the house and watched as it continued its sinking dance into the mud.
Someone grabbed his shoulder and he felt nauseous knowing that Johnny was no where to be seen. “Roy, we’ve got to get some help. Just hang on, Pal.” It was Stanley, holding him back from the destruction in front of them. “Everyone’s on the way,” Stanley tried to assure him.
All Roy knew was that time had stopped and he could only see gray mud; he could only feel the relentless rain; he could only feel the raw fear that tore at his gut.
“Johnny . . . !”
* * * * *
“A Firefighter rescue requires information, skilled firefighters and a lot of luck. That's right, luck! No matter how much information there is about the situation, no matter how skilled the firefighters performing the rescue are, things still have to go your way for success. Whatever you call it-luck, good fortune, catching a few breaks-if things don't fall into place then it still may not work out. However, prior training in firefighter rescue skills and techniques is an essential component of a successful rescue.” (Jim McCormack, Firefighter Rescue - The Ultimate Fireground Challenge)
The creaking and crashing had finally stopped. He was barely aware of the other sounds erupting in his addled mind--the constant rain, muddled voices, someone’s cries and rushing water. He tried lifting his head which felt as though a wall came down on it. He was pinned on his right side against something that he couldn’t see. As he grew more aware of his surroundings, he began to feel pain in his right leg. He tried his head again but couldn’t bear the pain that seemed to spiral with every movement. He knew he was stuck, but wasn’t sure how. He did, however, feel the mud, water and muck that he lay in. Somehow, he ended up on a ledge of wall or floor, he couldn’t tell which, that rose above the sludge swirling past him. More pangs of pain began calling his attention from his face and arms. Glass laid all about him and he wondered how that happened.
He was certainly aware of one thing. At least I’ve not been swept away, yet. Man, that’s pretty lucky. He tried to grin at the prospect, but decided to conserve his energy. He tried to stop the trembling that began to take over his body. He tried his voice.
“Roy . . ? Roy!”
He heard no response and fought back the bile that was rising in his throat. He panted quick short breaths to no avail. His stomach churned and Johnny did his best to avoid aspirating, since he couldn’t really turn his head. After his rebelling stomach stopped heaving, he tried to control his breathing and his fear.
“Someone? Roy? I’m . . .still . . in . . here!!” He groaned at his weakened voice and knew that no one would hear him above the cacophony of the mud and water. Did I say I was lucky? Oh man . . . He slid away into the warmth of unconsciousness.
* * * * * *
Stanley looked at the pile of rubble that once was a house. He turned his head toward the sky, thanking the elements that the rain was tapering off. Must be my lucky day, he mused. He knew they had to move quickly through the swirling mass of mud and water to find Johnny. He kept focused on the team, knowing their motivation and determination were on edge, looking for their own. He followed Roy and made sure he was in touch with his senior paramedic. Roy was acting professionally, but Stanley knew he was battling fear for his partner.
They made their way toward the rubble. Even though the rain had died down, the mud and water were beginning to rise as the erosion from the hills continued into the valley. Stanley knew they didn’t have much time before the slide crested. McConnike was sending another unit in as they got closer to where they thought Johnny was trapped.
“Johnny! Johnny!” Roy continued to yell out. Stanley yielded the line to Roy as he pulled deeper into the remains of the house. A mountain of debris was all that was left of the two story house that wasn’t swept away.
“GAGE?! Where are you, man?” Chet yelled out. Stanley focused on the pieces of stairwell that they came upon.
“Johnny?!” Roy kept calling out.
As the group trudged through the debris and mud, Roy in the lead, found a boot sticking out from the far edge of shattered windows and walls. “JOHNNY!”
He moved as fast as he could. “Cap, I think we’ve found him!”
“Come on, guys, let’s keep on,” Stanley encouraged the tired team.
Roy bent down and touched Johnny’s boot. “JOHNNY!” He peered into the dark debris and couldn’t see anything else. He shook the rain from his glove and removed it, trying to carefully find Johnny’s pulse. His leg felt cold and clammy, but there was definitely a pulse. “He’s alive, Cap!”
“Okay, boys, let’s get him out of here,” Stanley said as he thumbed the handie talkie. “Battalion 14, Engine 51. We’ve found our missing man. We extricating now. We’ll need a stokes and more ropes.”
“10-4, Engine 51.”
“Roy, what does it look like?”
Chet and Marco were busy moving the smaller pieces of wood out of the way as Roy tried to peer deeper to see Johnny. “Cap, he looks like he’s pinned in there, but I don’t know how. We’ve got to get this stuff off of him,” Roy responded.
They all took care removing each piece, yet working as quickly as possible. The mud kept pushing forward. Roy marveled at how Johnny was elevated from the swirling mess. However, time wasn’t on their side now as the swelling continued.
“Roy, I think I’ve got an opening here,” yelled Chet. He and Marco moved a piece of banister and Chet was able to glimpse Johnny through the mess. “Johnny! Can you hear me? Johnny?” Chet continued yelling.
“Let me get in there, Chet,” Roy instructed. He let out his life line and Stanley and Marco held onto the line. Roy crawled on the wallboard that was holding up his partner from the current of mud. He inched closer and was able to touch Johnny’s bruised face. Mud and water splattered against Johnny’s body and Roy took care not to cause any more motion than necessary. He inspected the angle Johnny was pinned at on his right side and felt for broken bones on his upper torso, still lying on his belly to reach his partner.
He turned his head back toward his lifeline. “Cap . . he’s out and not responding. I’m still trying to figure out what’s pinning him in!”
Roy inched closer, bringing down some shattered wood and glass from above.
“ROY! Are you okay?” shouted Chet.
Roy looked around him and was thankful for his helmet. “Yea, I’m okay, I’m okay. Just move carefully. I think we’re in a house of toothpicks!”
Roy began inching closer again. Once he was face to face with Johnny, he looked down his torso and gasped. Blood mixed with mud pooled around Johnny’s right leg. Somehow, a piece of the staircase was embedded in Johnny’s thigh, effectively pinning him against a shattered window. Glass surrounded his partner and Roy groaned as he got a close-up look at Johnny’s head. He carefully brushed away broken glass and a piece of window sill that had fallen across his partner’s head.
“Johnny, can you hear me? Come on, Junior, time to wake up. Hey, the rain’s letting up and we’re here to get you out of here . . .Johnny?”
Roy knew Johnny was getting shocky and needed attention now. “Cap! I need some help over here!”
Chet and Marco were closer to removing the last the pile that prevented all of them closer to Johnny.
“Roy, we’re almost there. We’ve got the stokes on the way,” yelled Stanley.
Suddenly a wave of mud sloshed over Roy and Johnny, pulling at Roy’s tenuous grip on his partner. Chet was on his knees in the next moment, holding onto Roy’s coat as the wave passed over them. Mud dripped from Chet’s helmet as he pulled himself up. He encouraged Roy to do the same. Marco ditched his last piece of debris and was able to make his way behind Johnny. “Roy, he’s on top of lots of glass. With all this mud, I can’t tell if . . .” Marco looked over at Roy as he heard Johnny cough.
Johnny tried to dispel the muddy water from his face as he choked, waking up. He lifted his left hand to rake the mud from his face, groaning at the new pain flaring in his leg.
“Careful, Johnny, easy does it,” Roy tried to encourage his groggy friend. “Take it easy.”
“ . . .ack . .augh . .” Johnny kept coughing, growing more agitated. “ . . roy?”
“Shhh, Johnny. Save your strength. We’re getting you out of here, got it?”
“ . .aauugg . . .c .c .cold, r .r oy?”
“Marco, slowly move your gloved hand down his back,” suggested Stanley. Roy concentrated on the embedded wood in Johnny’s leg as Chet worked at keeping Johnny’s hand away from his cut face.
Johnny tried to move away from the offending hands torturing his battered body. But, no matter how hard he tried, he kept eating mud and his right side flared in searing pain. “Ahhhh, . . roy, . . .c. . c. . an’t “
Stanley watched with growing concern as the flowing mud continued rising. Johnny was now about two inches buried in the sludge while the rest of the crew were holding on to anything to keep from sliding off the wallboard. “Roy?”
“Cap, we’re gonna have to cut this piece of wood somehow. I don’t think we have a choice!”
Stanley pulled the hacksaw from his backpack and handed it over to Roy and Marco. Marco hadn’t found any other obstructions to Johnny’s backside and proceeded to cut the wood from the floor. Stanley watched over the debris to see Dwyer and Cole bringing the stokes through the current of mud, all the while keeping their lifelines above water.
“Okay, boys, we’ve only got one chance to get this right. Let’s keep focused and concentrate on getting him in the stokes. Keep on top of your ropes!” Stanley instructed.
Before they had a chance to finish the cutting, another wave of sludge passed them. Chet was now holding Johnny’s head out of the muck while Roy was wrapping a tourniquet around Johnny’s thigh, keeping the spear of wood upright despite the force of the mud. Each wave that lapped over them caused more pain for Johnny.
“ . . . r . .r . . oy,” he barely whispered.
“Johnny, stop,” Roy commanded. He had to remain focused on keeping Johnny’s leg straight. “We’ve only got one shot at getting you top-side. Let us do all the work, partner.”
“ . . so . . c . .c . c. old . .. no . . .se .con . .d chance?”
Roy was thankful that his face was covered in mud, so that Johnny wouldn’t see the tears that flowed from his fear, weariness and worry. “We’ll get it right the first time . . no second chances, my friend!”
Johnny stiffened as another wave of muddy sludge grabbed for him. He let the blackness take him this time, feeling Roy’s hand cover his cold fingers.
* * * * * * *
The muddy current was now at their waists as the team struggled to get the stokes under Johnny. Roy, Marco and Chet remained on their knees holding Johnny out of the deeper muck.
Dwyer and Cole positioned the stokes with Stanley on the other side to steady them against the relentless waves.
“Okay, Cap, let’s all do this on three,” Dwyer shouted. “One . . two . . THREE!”
Every man held fast to Johnny or the stokes and together they placed him, slipping and sliding against the torrent of mud. Roy was glad that Johnny was oblivious to the shake up he was getting. He knew the pain would be too much. The straps were tightened and the lifelines were secured. More men were on the edge of the muddy current waiting to help take over for the 51 crew.
Feeling every bit of dirt, grime, grain and drop of water against his body, Roy willed himself to move forward through the sludge. Every open space whether it was in his boots or his turnouts, was filled with mud. Even his toes could feel the muck.
Johnny began moaning, feebly fighting against the movement and the restraints. Roy knew in his weakened condition that he wouldn’t be able to do much, but he felt each moan as it were his very own. It seemed a lifetime ago when they were warm and sleeping peacefully.
As they approached the newly formed embankment, hands took over the stokes and pulled the men from the muddy cocoon. Grim determination marked each man’s face as they followed the stokes up to the triage area. Roy wanted desperately to finish helping out Johnny but his boots kept getting heavier with the mud as they kept walking. Other firemen were assisting the muddy crew and each man clung to their lifeline.
Roy watched in silence as Brice and Bellingham took over Johnny’s care. Someone asked him how he was holding up and he wondered why someone would be asking him when Johnny clearly needed the help.
“Roy?” Stanley tried again.
“Huh? Cap?”
“You okay? Are you hurt?”
“a h . . now, just worried, tired, I guess.”
“We got him out; he’s getting treatment. We got him, Roy.”
Roy looked at Cap and again wondered why everyone was moving in slow motion. His mind’s eye replayed the waves of mud trying to claim his partner to be swept away. But, they had their chance and made it.
“Yea, we made it. I hope Johnny makes it too,” Roy voiced his concern.
“He’s got a good chance. Why don’t you board the copter with him? Get checked out. We’ll be along,” Stanley decided. He knew the station would be out of service anyway, while they began wrapping up the rescue operations from the valley.
He looked back at what was left of the demolished house. The muddy torrent had finally claimed the rest of it. The gray sea of mud flowed easily now that most of the man made obstacles were out its way. Stanley moved toward the rig, already preparing for the next victory that he and the crew would face together.
* * * * * * *
“There are no second chances when it comes to rescuing a firefighter. A fireground emergency may happen at any time and a team must be standing by and capable of solving the emergency. Being part of a rapid intervention team is not the most glorious assignment-a successful operation means you won't get 'a piece of the action'-but it's the most important assignment on the fireground when something goes wrong. There are absolutely no excuses, NONE, for not being 100% ready to rescue one of our own on the fireground! Sometimes no matter how much preparation has been done, things still go wrong, but we all know the difference between a true tragedy and a failure to prepare. There are no second chances.” (Jim McCormack, Firefighter Rescue - The Ultimate Fireground Challenge)
Notes: The recent news stories of the devastating mudslides in California and the quoted article from Jim McCormack sparked my inspiration for this one. Any inaccuracies are mine alone! Great thanks to Tig for her help and support and to the entire fandom for keeping E! alive (especially Johnny!).
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Guest Dispatchers Stories by Robin W.
