On Being a Firefighter
Why do we do what we do? A-Shift at Station 51 demonstrate the typical life of a firefighter giving insight to the reality that firefighters are asked to make things right for people who are in need or suffering. Sometimes, they can’t always meet those needs but they certainly give it their all.
It wasn’t the idea of morning that annoyed him. Nor was it the concept of actually getting out of the bed and leaving behind warmth, comfort and a really good sleep. He always enjoyed the feeling of leisurely rising and soaking in the bright morning sunshine or the quiet drops of rain, whatever choice the day made of its attire. However, this morning was not at all peaceful or comforting. Instead, his awareness of time reverberated in his head with a pounding realization that he was late. Not again, man . . . he thought at he shoved the blankets aside, scrubbed the night embers of sleep away and stumbled to the bathroom. No, it wasn’t even annoyance today. It was more like exasperation at his inability to react to his alarm clock appropriately and the fact that this was not the good start to his day.
Johnny completed cleaning up and quickly put on the uniform that was already at home. At least it would save him a few minutes once he was at the station. Grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind, he ran down the flight of stairs of his apartment. Jumping into his Rover, he quickly strapped the lap belt and kicked the vehicle into high gear, joining the throng of traffic which was moving very slowly.
He let out a deep breath and looked up at the dawn breaking over the horizon of buildings in the current city sprawl. As was his routine before every shift, he wondered what kind of day it would be and how much trouble he’d find among the possible calls of the impending shift. His stomach growled at that moment and then he wondered if someone remembered donuts today.
*******
Hank stretched over to reach for the cake donut from the dozen that Joanne graciously sent in with Roy. He glanced at the wall clock and noticed that his youngest crew member still hadn’t arrived.
“Roy, any word on John?” he queried.
Roy looked out into the bay swallowing his mouthful of donut. “Nothing, Cap.”
“He’s probably still dreaming about the newest nurse he couldn’t get a date with last week,” Chet piped in while retrieving his second cup of coffee.
Hank shook his head and dismissed Chet’s comment, as usual. “Well, whatever the reason, it better be good. He’s really pushing it.”
Hank didn’t like to reprimand his crew. They were good men and worked well together. His style of leadership was firm yet fair, but in a way he hoped the men would respect. He valued each of them for their unique personalities and always enjoyed mentoring John. He was proud of his paramedic team as they always set high standards for the entire fire department. John and Roy were the consummate professionals and both strong rescue men. He couldn’t have a better team. Just as he was pushing away from the table, the focus of his morning thoughts came through the door.
“Sorry, Cap. . .I don’t why but I really slept through my alarm. Man, I’m gonna have to get a new one, I guess,” Johnny quickly explained with a pensive and breathless voice.
“Look, John, why don’t you take over latrine duty this week and make that your reflecting time to ponder just how you’ll avoid this in the future. Okay, pal?”
“Sure, Cap, sure,” Johnny responded with some relief.
Chet sauntered behind Johnny and grabbed the last crème-filled donut. “Too bad, Johnny. Guess some porcelain meditation will do you some good!”
Johnny didn’t let his look of disappointment show on his face as he watched his favorite donut pass by him. “Chet, lay off, man,” was all he said.
Hank stood up and picked up his coffee mug. “Gentlemen, let’s get settled in and . . . “
The tones sounded and dispatch changed Hank’s order of business. The squad was called out on a “woman down” response. He handed the slip to Roy and watched as the squad rolled out into the morning sunlight.
“I often say ‘I'm not responding today, I'm gonna have a break,’ but when the siren goes, I can't resist, I have to go and help.” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
*******
The squad pulled up to the run-down apartment complex and they quickly disembarked carrying the biophone and drug box. Unknown calls always set up certain anxious feelings for Johnny and Roy as they didn’t know how to prepare.
Roy rapped on the door. “Fire Department. Hello?” he yelled.
The door opened and Johnny did his best not to show a look of disgust. The place was filthy and cluttered along with strong odors of smoke, trash and old food. The disheveled man behind the open door grunted.
“She’s in here. Don’t know why she’s so upset—just some bleach,” he growled as he puffed on his cigarette.
Johnny and Roy stepped over the multiple piles of clothes on the floor and made their way to the living room sofa. A young woman who looked about twenty was writhing on the cushions rubbing her eyes and cussing a litany of profanity that made the paramedics wince.
Johnny put down the biophone and immediately took her hands away from her face. “Now, now, come on. Don’t rub your eyes. What happened?”
The older man grunted again and with no emotion said, “Hell, had to teach her a lesson but I wasn’t gonna stop her. Her mama did it.”
“She can go to hell! I’m leaving this dump today—oh, man, shit . . . it burns. My throat hurts . . .ack!” the woman screamed while still thrashing under Johnny’s firm grip.
“Listen, now . . . what’s your name? We need for you to try and calm down so we can help you,” Johnny said wrestling with her panic and flailing hands.
Roy worked on opening gauze pads and saline solution while giving incredulous looks between the man and the upset woman. “Sir, what exactly happened?”
“She threw some of ‘his on her and stormed out of ‘ere. Who knows—maybe Liza was out all night again!” the man said with a raised voice.
Roy picked up the container of cleaning fluid and noticed the standard warnings. “Johnny, looks like bleach.”
Johnny wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Liza, Liza? Look, now, we’re gonna put these pads on your eyes and I need you to keep them there. Okay?”
Liza began to settle down a little affording Johnny a chance to release her arms and place the pads Roy handed him to her eyes. “It might feel a little cold, but that’s okay. Tell us about your throat?”
“That bitch—she just threw that damn container in my face—I didn’t do nothin’—just out with my friends. I’m sick of her . . .!” Liza began to get angry again.
Johnny held her shoulders and began taking her pulse and respirations. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. Come on, just be still, now.”
Roy finished the blood pressure check and transmitted the vitals to Rampart. He confirmed their instructions to start an IV with D5W TKO along with oxygen for treating the possible inflammation of the fumes from the cleaner along with a flush of the eyes with saline. He looked over at the man hovering in the hallway. “Sir, we really need you to put that out—we’ve got oxygen flowing here,” Roy said barely containing his irritation.
Liza finally succumbed to the paramedics’ ministrations allowing Johnny to really get a good look at her. His initial reaction was wrong. She didn’t look twenty now—she look younger, much younger. Yet she was dressed provocatively and appeared to have not slept. He looked over at Roy who was holding the basin for the flush. He acknowledged Johnny’s look of “why?”
Just as the ambulance attendants pushed through the cluttered floor a woman flew into the apartment in a violent rage. She pushed over the still-smoking man from the door way and cut her way directly to the sofa.
“What the hell is going on here? Don’t you even baby her! I mean it!” The woman had a high-pitched voice that pierced the room and her caked on make-up and stiff wig made her appear bigger than anyone else in the room. “She needs to be studying her homework and not slutting around town. Little missy is gonna learn not to mouth off to her mama and come home at night!”
Liza became agitated again and almost ripped off her now covered and padded eyes had it not been for Johnny’s quick reaction to hold her arms again. “Arrgh! Get away from me, you crazy whore!” Johnny struggled to keep Liza from getting up to quickly while Roy moved to grab the screeching woman away from the injured girl.
“Ma’am, excuse me, ma’am, we’ve got to take her to the hospital—this is not the time . . .” Roy tried to calm her down. She kicked Roy in the shin. “Keep your hands off me!” Roy cringed and Johnny was stunned at the rising fervor in the room. He wondered how much more this could escalate when he noticed Vince walking into the apartment. He expressed a big sigh of relief knowing that Vince would help control the current domestic dispute.
“Excuse, ma’am. Could you please step away from them and let them finish their job?” his deep voice penetrated the chaotic scene.
Roy and Johnny picked up Liza and moved her to the gurney while the attendants begin strapping her in. “Keep her away from me, I mean it! I don’t care what you say!” Liza continued to verbalize her feelings loudly.
The older woman was fuming and the man just stood behind her without a care. Vince began taking notes from the both of them. Roy and Johnny quickly packed up their gear and followed the gurney.
“Vince, ya need anything from us?” Johnny asked on the way out.
“No, Johnny, not now. I’ve got this. See you later,” he replied.
“Good deal. Uh, we’re taking her to Rampart,” Johnny said directing his comments to the seething woman. She simply glared at him.
Johnny followed behind the procession to the ambulance and took Roy’s helmet from him while he stepped into the truck. Liza was still mumbling and groaning, but seemed better. Johnny handed Roy the biophone. “See ya at Rampart.”
Roy nodded and gave a small smile. Johnny sighed, closed the doors and pounded the back door. He ran to the squad and jumped in. He looked back up toward the apartment and shook his head. It never failed to amaze him that people could be so violent especially toward those closest to them. He wondered if Liza would just continue to perpetuate the cycle of violence she was learning from her mother. Did she have a future? Johnny made a small groan of frustration and focused on following the ambulance. It was just another typical day in sunny Los Angeles.
“What upsets me is the violence. The things that people do to one another shock me .Does poverty do that to people or do they choose that life? If they choose it then why is violence so prevalent in the poorer areas and not in the rich suburbs?” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
*******
“I just don’t get it. Why anyone would do things like that,” Johnny continued his rant while Roy drove back to the station. Roy nodded his head and understood the need Johnny had to vent. It was part of why their partnership worked so well. At any given moment, either one of them knew when it was time to vent and let it go. They both had grown in the past years to respect and honor their friendship both on and off the job. Today seemed like Johnny’s day to voice both of their thoughts and opinions.
“Ya know, I can handle the blood, the accidents, the drama of some of our rescues, but man, to see violence like that within a family, a home,” Johnny glared out at the passing traffic.
“Yeah, it’s hard,” Roy agreed. “At least Doc Brackett thinks there won’t be too much damage from the burns. “
Johnny exhaled and closed his eyes. He thought about Jenny and Chris, the closest people he had to his own children.
“Roy, I’m just glad you and Joanne know how to be strong adults and good parents.”
Roy smiled and looked at his partner. Johnny looked back and grinned. He had said enough and Roy seemed thankful. Johnny looked back out the passenger window and let it go. He did his job and he reconnected. It was a good day.
******
Mike heard Squad 51 acknowledge their return from Rampart. He worked a little harder to finish polishing the chrome on the rig and he loved how it began to sparkle. Nothing was more satisfying than making everything about his engine look good, perform well and support his work family.
So far the day was quiet and he appreciated the moments of quiet repose. Cap was working in his office while Chet and Marco were busy with hanging hose in the back. He looked forward to the anticipated poker game tonight after dinner and hoped that whatever was in store for them today, that they would all be prepared and ready. He finished the chrome bar and made his third check on the gauges and dials. He knew it was ridiculous to think of the engine as a machine that had feelings, but he had strong feelings of pride over the rig. He knew that the equipment was the next important thing besides teamwork to make sure that their runs didn’t fail. To make sure their victims survived and that each one of his friends came back whole and happy.
It was not a small task but it was one that he carried with great care and responsibility. He had complete faith in all the guys and he had the same faith in his equipment. No matter that many of the people they rescued could have avoided the problems had they been more thoughtful and cautious. But, Mike surmised, it was just the way it was. Some days were better than others and some days were simply routine. He liked those days the most. Routine and mundane in a firefighter’s world was always appreciated.
He glanced up as the squad backed into the bay. Johnny and Roy hopped out and Johnny walked up to Mike. “Got all the fingerprints off her, Mickey?”
Mike made an easy smile and simply ignored Johnny’s smart remark. Although, he enjoyed the easy mood Johnny was in. Maybe their run went well.
“How’d it go,” he asked.
“Ah, man, it was rough. Mother and daughter fight ended up with bleach in the kid’s face. But she’ll be okay, after some quick work from two pretty amazing paramedics, if I do say so myself.” Johnny grinned with splayed fingers across his chest. Roy simply shook his head and left the bay into the dayroom. Mike liked the routine banter and smiled back at Johnny.
“By being a fireman I have seen a lot of things. I've walked into peoples’ lives and homes when they are in need and are vulnerable, and often we are their last line of hope.” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
*******
“Gage, all you have to do is rig something to your ceiling and tie it to your arm or somethin’ and then BAM—the alarm goes off and you go for the clock and your arm pulls the rope and there you are—awake! Simple science, my friend, simple science!” Chet seemed pleased with his latest suggestion.
Johnny stared at him with his mouth open trying to figure out what Chet just said. “What planet are you from?” was the only retort he could think of.
Chet just waved his hand and went toward the coffee pot. “Just forget it, Gage. You’re hopeless.”
Johnny sat down at the table to help Roy with the logbook entry. “Can you believe that?” he asked hoping to get Roy to help him out with Chet.
Roy looked over at his partner and didn’t say a word. He handed the slips to Johnny and Johnny looked stunned that Roy wasn’t going to join in.
“Just let me know when you’re ready for some real help, pal!” Chet quipped on his way out to the back to finish with the hose.
Johnny snorted and ran his hand through his thick hair. “Man, what’d I do? I haven’t been late in quite a while. I guess Chet’s just bored and ran out of pranks.” Johnny sighed flipping through the log sheets.
“Listen, the more you react, the more he’s gonna keep at you. You should know that by now,” Roy replied quietly.
“I know, I know . . .”
The tones sounded interrupting Johnny’s thoughts. “Station 51, Engine 10, Ladder 18, structure fire, 1800 Carlson Boulevard, cross street Pope, 1800 Carlson Boulevard, time out 11:10.”
The squad and engine pulled out into the pre-lunch traffic and announced their intent as both vehicles deftly weaved in and out of the stopped cars. The shiny chrome, spotless fenders and gleaming sides of the squad and engine reflected the late morning sun eager to wrestle with the Beast that waited for no one.
*******
The flames shot out over the roof and smoke billowed furiously from the windows. The upscale neighborhood contained showcase houses in the suburban bliss of subdivisions but that didn’t thwart the hunger of the angry flames. Hank jumped out as the engine rolled to a stop barking out orders for his crew to pull the lines. Bystanders stood around pointing and shaking their heads.
“Help me, please! He’s still in there!” a woman ran toward Hank screaming.
“Okay, Ma’am, just calm down. Where is he?”
“My husband. Oh my God—he was in his office. Please!” The distraught woman cried.
“Roy, John! We’ve got a man inside, bottom floor!” Hank shouted to his paramedic team as they worked their way into their SCBA gear. Both gave the thumbs up signal and ran into the large home. Marco and Chet followed quickly with their hoses and fought their way in.
Johnny led the way toward the back of the house feeling the intense heat that had already built up. Parts of the second floor had already fallen in and the entire structure looked weak, succumbing to the Beast’s tendrils of destruction. He quickly noticed the closed door off the large dining room. He waved Roy forward and moved ahead. The dense smoke made visibility difficult. Johnny tried opening the door. He knocked and yelled. “Anyone in there? Hello?”
Roy shoved the door with no success. He stepped back and gave it a high kick which caused the door to finally yield to the pressure. Johnny ran in searching for a possible victim. A large rug was pushed to the side wall and he went over to pull it aside. Sure enough a man lay within the rug. But it wasn’t the fact that they finally found the man that was unusual. It was the multitude of silver, gold and marbled figures and statues surrounding the man in the rug that surprised both paramedics. It was only a brief reaction as the ceiling lights crashed down in the room.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Mister?” Johnny called out while attempted to lift the man from the floor.
The man was unconscious from smoke inhalation. Johnny hefted him over his shoulder and allowed Roy to help direct him out through the growing smoke. Water rained over them from the hoses and the groaning structure kept loosing ground.
“Engine 51 to HT 51! Pull out! This house is gone. Evacuate now!” Hank’s voice shouted over the noise of the hoses and fire.
Johnny and Roy dashed out from the front while Chet and Marco pulled their lines back out. The entire second floor of the house made its descent seconds after the men ran down the circular driveway. A wave of heat slapped them all and the flames quickly consumed what was left of the once beautiful house.
Johnny whipped off his face mask and blew out a deep breath while gently laying down the man on the ground. “Man, that was too close,” he remarked.
“Yeah, I know,” Roy responded. He set up the biophone and Johnny began taking vitals. The wife scrambled over and tried to revive her husband.
“Carl? Carl, are you okay? Is he?” she frantically asked.
Johnny was placing the oxygen mask on the man’s face and he turned to smile at her. “He’s gonna be fine. Just relax, now.”
She tried to muffle her sobs and wiped her face. Johnny finished relaying the vitals to Roy and began the ordered IV. After Carl was settled in the gurney and placed in the ambulance, Johnny saw the clean up begin from the window in the ambulance. It was a quick fire and it wasn’t until the ambulance was well on its way to Rampart that Johnny thought again about the items Carl seemed to be holding on to in that rug. He hoped the man’s health wasn’t traded off for the hopes of saving material things. It was hard for him to think that way, living a fairly Spartan lifestyle himself. While he understood the fact that property and possessions were very important to people, he still struggled with the fact that many of them just didn’t keep their priorities straight when caught up in the decision as to what to save in a fire.
Carl moaned under the oxygen mask, as if in tune with Johnny’s thoughts. He shifted his head and tried to move the mask off.
“Hey, now, let’s leave that on. You’re okay. You’ve had some smoke inhalation, but you’re gonna be okay,” Johnny tried to reassure the agitated man.
“My . . . antiques . . where?”
Johnny shook his head and tried to hide his disgust from his voice, remaining as professional as possible. “It’s okay, all right? Just relax,” he placed his hand on the man’s shoulders.
“. . . my . . .antiques . . . oh . . .”
Johnny sighed and took another pulse to keep him from thinking about this man’s priorities. I wonder if he even wonders about his wife?
“Why do we go running into situations that everyone else runs away from? Why do I risk my life by running into a burning building, knowing that at any moment an unpredictable might happen?” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
*******
Johnny sipped his mug of coffee finishing his rant to Dixie.
“I mean, really . . . is stuff more important or getting out alive?”
Dixie smiled knowingly as this wasn’t the first time she heard paramedics and firefighters lament about peoples’ attitudes. She wondered just as much but also knew that in crisis situations, many people just didn’t have a normal mind.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, but I expect to put my life out there to save a life, not a bunch of stuff instead!”
“Well, Johnny, I couldn’t agree more. We just have to convince all the rest of ‘em out there, huh?” She winked at Johnny and tried to lighten up the mood. She knew that venting was part of their jobs and she was determined to let them vent but to also remind them how good they were.
“Yeah, that’s a dream,” Johnny sighed. He pulled another sip from the mug and looked up as Roy joined him.
“Dix, is he giving you a headache, yet?” Roy quipped, but with a grin.
“Nah, Roy. Johnny and I were just extolling the virtues of all the wonderful people you rescue every day. Right, Johnny?”
“Sure, Dix, sure!” Johnny responded and turned an astonished face back to Roy. “And what’ya mean, a headache?”
“Come on, Junior, let’s get back,” Roy tried to avoid a new discussion.
“Geez, just trying to make some friendly conversation and you think I’m givin’ her a headache!”
Dixie smiled again and went back to her scheduling charts as Johnny continued his complaint to Roy walking down the hallway. She was glad that everyone was safe and that another routine day was in the works.
*******
“Man, Roy . . . I’ve seen ‘em trying to run back in the house for stuff, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone roll it all up with him in a rug!”
Roy understood Johnny’s amazement—he felt the same way. “I guess they were important.”
“Yeah, well, that was just crazy!” Johnny took a deep breath as he exited the squad, turning to head into the dayroom. Roy followed behind.
“Roy? How’d the victim end up?” Roy heard Hank ask as he headed toward the coffee pot.
“He’ll be okay. Just some smoke inhalation but no complications,” Roy responded. He looked at Johnny and noticed Johnny was peering into the pot that Marco was stirring checking out the lunch offering for the day. He hoped that Johnny’s comments about the stupidity of people wouldn’t start up again. He wasn’t that lucky.
“Cap, can you believe that he was clutching all that stuff willin’ to just lay it on the line?” Johnny began.
Hank shook his head indicating his understanding of Johnny’s complaint. “Yeah, pretty strong willed about that, wasn’t he?”
“I think he was crazy,” Johnny replied.
“Gage, you shouldn’t be talking,” Chet piped in. Roy sighed quietly and found a place at the table and picked up the paper. He tried to avoid the newest Johnny and Chet’s verbal volley.
“When’s lunch, Marco?” he asked.
“Almost done, guys,” Marco washed his hands and began grabbing bowls from the cabinet. He handed them to Johnny to set at the table.
“Smells, great, as usual, Marco,” Johnny said. Roy took small satisfaction that Johnny ignored Chet’s comment. Roy decided to sway the topic.
“I don’t know about the rest of ya’ but I’m ready to win some dollar bills tonight,” Roy announced hoping to distract Chet from egging Johnny on.
“I think, Roy, you under estimate the capabilities of your senior officer, here,” Hank smiled as he settled into a chair at the table. “Sometimes the less you say, the better. Right, Mike?”
Roy watched at Mike smiled and took his own place at the table. Mike simply nodded his agreement with Hank, but with a sly grin that Roy appreciated.
Just as the rest of the men settled into their seats at the table, the tones sounded. “Station 51, Station 10, Squad 45 . . . MVA at the corner of Princeton and Moran Streets . . . time out 14:16 . . . “
*******
As they approached the accident scene, Hank let out a frustrated sigh. There were at least three vehicles involved at the scene with people milling about. Smoke was rising and he didn’t see police back up yet. He grabbed his HT and jumped out of his seat as Mike slowed down behind the squad.
“Okay, I need for everyone to please step back . . . please, let us get through,” Hank firmly ordered to the crowd.
A dazed man in his late forties approached Hank. He held a handkerchief to his head. “Um. . .I don’t know what happened, but I think there’s still people in there . . .um”. Hank gently guided him toward Roy and Johnny as they ran up with their equipment. “Sir, you just let these men help you out and we’ll take care of the rest,” he encouraged.
“Chet, Marco, let’s get this soaked down,” Hank instructed as he and Mike moved toward the wreckage. Amid the hissing of smoke and the gaggle of conversation from bystanders, Hank heard Johnny approach as well. “Roy’s got it, Cap. What d’you see?”
“See what Mike’s got first.”
As Johnny went with Mike, Hank leaned down toward the pavement and thought he saw movement. “Hey, don’t move, we’re coming to help you out!” he yelled.
The vehicle was crushed under two other cars that piled together as if the second car couldn’t stop after the first car hit the vehicle underneath. Mike was already at that second car opening up the door with some effort. He and Johnny carefully helped a young woman out of the damaged vehicle. She appeared alert but shaky.
“Gage! Over here,” Hank yelled, knowing that Mike would handle the woman as she was standing on her own now. Squad 45 was just arriving which allowed Hank to concentrate on the trapped victim.
“Looks like this guy’s stuck but I’m not sure how. He moved just a minute ago,” Hank told Johnny.
Johnny hunched over and began scooting in toward the crushed car. “Hey! If you can hear me . . . don’t move!” A strong odor assaulted Johnny’s senses as he inched closer to the victim. “Cap!” his voice muffled by the hoses, steam and crowd.
Hank leaned in and began smelling the overwhelming odor of alcohol. Upon further inspection, shattered glass spread across the asphalt mixed with the rainbow colors of spilled oil, gasoline and water. “What do you need, Johnny?”
“He’s got a shallow pulse, but he’s really wedged in here. I can’t tell about much else at this angle. He’s out.” Johnny grunted. “We’re gonna need to shore up this pile before we even attempt the jack. Cap, he must’ve been drinking—there’s beer all up in here!”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Hank said with a disgusted tone. “Come on, we’ll get this from the top side,” he instructed.
Hank watched the scene around him aware of several possible outcomes based on how the cars were mashed together. They would need more equipment and men. He hauled out his HT preparing to call dispatch but hesitated as the top car began shifting.
“JOHNNY!” he yelled scrambling to move Chet and Marco further away. “We’ve got movement up here!” He watched as Johnny continued to inch back out of the bottom wreckage, pulling his helmet at the very moment the top car began to topple.
Hank grabbed Johnny’s turnout coat and pulled mightily with all his strength. Just as the car careened unto the pavement next to them, he and Johnny toppled into the curb from the momentum of Hank’s pull. Both men ended up on their backs with Roy rushing over to them. Hank sat up and wiped off the beads of sweat running in his eyes still alert to the potential problems they faced. He waved Roy off, “I’m fine, I’m fine . . Gage?” he asked as he turned back to Johnny.
“I’m good, Cap—man, that was too quick!” Johnny was flushed but already up on his legs ready for the next task. Roy gave a Johnny a once-over and nodded to Hank. “Looks good!”
Hank sighed and as he arose to his own feet he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Everybody down!”
The flash was quick but intense as the remaining gasoline and oil sparked and lit the wreckage on fire. All hands were now back at the job dousing the flames while Johnny and Hank looked at each other knowing that the last victim never made it in that explosion. There was just too much to do and not enough time to save the man who apparently was too drunk to drive. Both men moved into well-known patterns of clean up and break down of MVAs despite the waning despair of the lost life.
“Why do I go to a car crash caused by a drunk or careless driver, to try and help them have another chance at life, when they may have killed an innocent life who could've been my friend, colleague or family member?” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
******
Johnny’s eyes drooped as he struggled to read the newspaper. It had been a long afternoon and somehow it began to catch up to the paramedic’s stamina. He caught himself as he began to doze when Chet plopped down at the table and began shuffling cards.
“Chet, we haven’t even eaten dinner, yet. Do you mind?”
“Look, Johnny, I’m making sure that all the cards are here, that B-shift didn’t destroy the corners and that we have a fair game. I’m looking forward to collecting that pot for my new herb garden,” Chet said matter-of-factly.
Johnny tried to hold back the snicker, but was unsuccessful. “A garden?”
“Got a problem with that, Gage?” Chet replied defensively.
“Not at all, it’s just . . . well . . I . . don’t know. I guess I never figured you had it in ya’ for gardening!” Johnny supplied.
Chet just grinned. “Just goes to show how much you don’t know about me, my friend. Herbs are not only good for cooking, but also for your health.”
Johnny was well aware of Chet’s recent bouts with healthy eating and spiritual awareness with physical health. He was too tired to egg him on further and simply turned the page in his newspaper and smiled.
“I guess you’re right, Chet!”
Chet looked surprised but continued on. “Yeah, babe, it’s just the wave of the future—get used to it. And get used to a lighter wallet after dinner.” Chet continued to play with the cards when the rest of A-shift gathered in the dayroom.
Johnny looked up as Roy took his usual seat next to him. Hank also sat down holding a cup of coffee while Mike and Marco began dinner preparations.
“How you doing, Johnny?” Hank asked.
“Good, Cap. Just really tired,” Johnny answered.
Roy nudged his partner. “Not too tired for cards, I hope. You know, Joanne and I are ready for a date night this week. I plan on taking on the winning side tonight.”
Johnny smiled knowing Roy was usually never one of the winners when they played poker. Hank piped in. “Roy, you can just keep dreaming. I told you earlier, I feel it in my bones tonight. Speaking of my bones, mine are a little sore after our topple this afternoon, Johnny. That’s why I was asking.”
Johnny flexed his arms and shoulders and rotated his neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but I’m good. That hot shower helped. How did the rest of the scene shake out?” He and Roy had ended up taking the other two victims to Rampart. Besides, he knew the recovery effort of their fatality would not have been a good scene and in a way, he was glad he didn’t have to be there.
“Wrapped up fine. Police were already in touch with the victim’s family. Apparently, he had been drinking the night before and was at it again today. Didn’t get much else,” Hank sighed.
Even Chet was aware of the senseless loss they saw played out today. The men held their thoughts silently waiting for a sense of normalcy to return. This was part of their job. A part that played out more often then they liked, but a reality they faced.
Johnny’s solemn moment quickly ended when the tones sounded indicating a fully involved warehouse fire. Another big job ahead of them as pans and utensils were thrown in the sink, cards left on the table and six weary firemen ran to their vehicles.
******
Wisps of acrid smoke curled around his head creating a hazy curtain of uncertainty. He blinked several times to keep the burning tears that were running down his face in check. He didn't need to add a veil of moisture to his already fogged up breathing mask. He stumbled over the latest pile of debris created only moments ago when the ceiling caved in. Water soaked tiles and smoldering lumber combined to create a bizarre pairing of sludge and ash. Tendrils of smoke continued to surround him, confusing his senses as he thought about which way to go.
He felt heavy and slow moving to only the rhythm of the beating flames. His addled brain told him to keep moving despite the growing sharp pain that began to flare in his leg and the increasing heaviness of his fatigue as it settled more firmly in his very being. He kept moving through the haze, trying to listen for clues that would lead him to the outside. Another large explosion from behind him propelled him through another room of debris. Voices were calling and the very sharp shrill from his SCBA alarm blared relentlessly. He moved to cut the alarm off and noticed a new pain travel down his arm.
Swirls of gray and black began to creep closer as his mind attempted to shut down. It would be better to let the smoky nothingness take him to a quieter place, but he tried again to belay that enticing idea. A new sensation gripped his senses . . .fear. A fear that he hadn't known before. Where were those voices? How did I lose my way and where was everyone?
Breathing was now becoming an issue. He tried to focus on moving again, but his every muscle protested with new levels of pain and now the fear took hold of his stomach. A new level of terror entered his awareness and he realized that he wasn't going anywhere. So, this is where it ends? A burning building, no more air, a sprained ankle, a busted arm and no more hope for a rescue? His experience told him that the building was in its last death throes . . . no one could come now. And even if they did, where would they look? Panic began to swell from his airless lungs and he tried to make his own voice work to let the elements know that he was still here. As he exhaled his last breath . . . he started coughing . . . gasping . . .
. . .and suddenly strong hands held his shoulders as he gulped in the fresh air streaming into his parched lungs. His head began aching in conjunction with his racing heartbeat as he realized this was his present reality. The clamoring of voices, the ringing in his ears and the continued smoky haze enveloped his overwhelmed and confused consciousness. Yet, the terror began to ease and with the strong embrace of his partner's hands on his back, his breathing started to slow, helping to soothe the passage of the precious oxygen into his body.
"He's coming around, Cap," he heard Roy say, clearly and confidently. "Johnny? Can you hear me?"
The simple sensation of understanding his partner's questions threatened to reduce him to a puddle of relief, but he held onto his remaining senses and looked at Roy. He wanted to speak, wanted to feel the words tumble out of him in their pure simplicity. But, all he could do was utter some syllables, none of which made sense to his ears, but his mind knew exactly what he wanted to say.
Roy eased him against the back of the squad and readjusted the oxygen mask. He shook his head and said, "You had me worried there for a minute. You went out on me. Now, just relax and let me finish checking you out."
Johnny wearily watched Roy as he went about his task. He noticed that Roy was struggling with his own emotions. "I thought we had lost you tonight," he said quietly, making sure Johnny understood.
Johnny nodded and felt remnants of the recent fear creep back as he closed his eyes. He heard the last of the building fall into itself, crackling and groaning under the intensity of the flames and water. He allowed his mind to linger in this moment, feelings of safety and warmth under the scrutiny of his partner. He would not allow his moment of terror to grab him again. He focused on breathing. The smoky haze and heavy fatigue started to filter away as he was gently eased onto the gurney. The pain wavered between his sense of reality and the beginning effect of the sedatives. He managed to find Roy's face and connected with his partner with a thankful grin.
“I put my complete faith in my apparatus and my mate, cause if either of them fail I will probably die; if my equipment fails, I'm practically stuffed, and if my buddy gets stuck and can't come out, I don't come out 'cause I will never leave him.” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
*****
“Clean break on the radius; mild concussion and badly sprained ankle. We’ve put him all back together again but he’ll be our guest for a couple of days. Some PT on the ankle; about 4 weeks in the cast and he’ll be ready for light duty.” Brackett made his points clear and to the point to the group of anxious, sooty and weary firemen hanging in his ER. It was a familiar scene that made Brackett grin and allowed him to be a part of that special brotherhood that surrounded these men. Often, their youngest member, Johnny, was the cause of their visits.
“So, is he up for visitors?” Roy asked softly. Brackett turned towards Roy, also knowing how much he cared for his younger partner as if he was Roy’s younger brother. “Yes, Roy, but only for a minute. He’s a bit out of it and needs to rest.”
“Cap?” Roy sought out Hank’s approval.
“That’s fine, Roy. We’ll have a replacement at the station pretty soon. Let him know he’s not off the hook for this week’s game, though!” Hank smiled. “Let’s go men. We’ve got to clean up for B-shift. Chet, you stay and bring Roy back with you.”
The rest of the men shuffled out and Brackett winced when he noted the time—2 am in the morning. Graveyard shifts were always long and when you had to treat one of your own, even longer. Roy pulled Brackett’s hand into his own. “Thanks, Doc. I won’t be long.”
Brackett smiled and gave Roy a pat on the back. “That’s what we’re here for. He should be in his room now. 204.”
Chet and Roy moved toward the elevator and Brackett scrubbed the weariness from his face. It was about time for this shift to be over.
*****
Johnny had trouble focusing on Roy and Chet as they entered his room. The last several hours were a blur seemingly embedded in a nightmarish cacophony of pain and confusion. By the time he was able to realize that he indeed landed at Rampart again with injuries causing him more than just mild discomfort, he groaned and tried to shut out the bright lights and Brackett’s commands. He remembered the deep fear that stole his last breath but he also remembered the pain easing as Roy held onto his arm in the ambulance keeping him connected and aware that someone was there for him.
Roy cleared his throat, bringing Johnny back to the present under the low lights of his room. “Johnny?”
“Hey, there, Pally . . .” Johnny said quietly, trying to focus again on Roy and Chet.
“Hey, yourself . . .how you doing?” Roy asked.
“Yeah, babe, you okay?” Chet added.
Johnny attempted a grin despite the persistent headache. He was thankful for his family and his friends. Through his bleary thoughts, he began to wonder how much he took Roy and the guys for granted. After this shift, he was feeling the effects of the human suffering they had witnessed.
“Not too bad,” he responded slowly. “Thanks for being here . . .” he closed his eyes as he shifted his weight away from his casted arm which rested on a pile of pillows. He took care not to move his leg much to keep the discomfort at bay. “Just trying to get comfortable. Kinda hard around here.”
Roy helped him shift a pillow behind his back and he grinned again, feeling the warmth of friendship and the comfort of his muscles settling down.
“Better?” Roy offered.
Johnny opened his eyes and nodded. Chet pulled the blanket a bit closer for Johnny.
“Listen, Johnny, I’m glad you’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna step out now. Roy, I’ll be in the squad,” Chet said. He patted Johnny’s good leg and smiled.
Johnny and Roy both caught the hint that Chet was glad to see Johnny doing well and also that a few moments between brothers was a good dose of medicine for Johnny.
“He’s something, huh?” Roy said, a little uncomfortable with the weariness and emotional toll that was pulling at him at the moment. Seeing Johnny through this latest incident jarred him and he, too, was thankful that Johnny survived this close call.
“Roy . . .” Johnny began. He was feeling drowsier, but the events of the day wouldn’t stop parading through his addled brain. He had to get his thoughts out before he fell into a deeper sleep. “We’ve seen a lot of suffering today; I can’t get it out of my head.”
Roy grabbed Johnny’s hand and despite his own emotions threatening to spill over, he knew that Johnny’s current contemplative mood needed to be addressed; especially if was to rest and get better. “It’s been a bad shift,” he commented.
“I know that sometimes it’s too awful, but . . .I don’t know . . .it’s almost as if,” Johnny paused looking for the right words that he needed to share with Roy. The fear and close call he experienced tonight hovered in the background of his swirling thoughts, threatening to cause nightmares if he didn’t face his unspoken thoughts and his own fear.
“We can talk more tomorrow, after you’ve rested,” Roy said.
“No . . “ Johnny blurted out roughly. “It’s just . . .I know it was close. I do. Did that guy know it in his wrecked car before he passed out? I think that when we see all this suffering around us . . I think we take it for granted.”
Roy knew Johnny was beginning to lose the battle to stay awake. He watched as Johnny blinked quickly and yawned.
“Take what for granted?”
Johnny sighed; frustrated that he couldn’t get his mouth and words to make sense. “I mean, it’s more than the good feelings that you’ve helped somebody . . I don’t care about the war-stories but when I see what people do to each other; how they suffer . . .man, I’m just really glad that I can turn away and look at you and Joanne, the kids, the guys. I’m thankful, Roy . . .I don’t want to take family and friends for granted . . .I guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say . .. “ Johnny looked a little disappointed that he wasn’t clearer.
Roy nodded his understanding to Johnny. “Do you remember what I said to you after I got you out of that building tonight? That I thought I’d lost you?” Johnny held onto Roy’s hand harder than he knew. Roy smiled. “My fear was just as real . . . I really couldn’t find you and I really didn’t know how much longer I had to look. You are my family, my brother. ” Roy paused, watching Johnny fight against the sedatives. “I don’t take it for granted. Don’t we all ask ourselves, ‘why am I here?’ or ‘what am I doing?’ or ‘am I crazy to go running into situations that everyone else runs away from?’ It’s in our blood, Johnny. We do it because we can. We can help those who need us.”
Johnny nodded slightly. Roy got it . . . he understood, not that Johnny was surprised. They often were on opposite ends of many ideas but when it came to the reality of their friendship and their work, they both knew how much it meant to be a firefighter.
“I’m sorry, Johnny, but Brackett’s gonna have my head for being here so long. Are we good? Are you okay, really?”
“Yeah, I am, Roy. . . thanks. I just had to . . .I don’t know . . “ Johnny sighed.
Roy patted his hand and let go. He did know. The fear and the suffering they went through these past twenty four hours had taken its toll. It was time to let it go and rest. Johnny’s eyes were already closed. “Sleep well, my friend. You’re safe now . . .you won today’s battle.” Roy wasn’t sure Johnny heard him, but that was okay. It was enough for both of them.
Roy quietly left the dimly lit room feeling more at ease and began thinking about when they would have a chance to get that poker game underway. Maybe next shift.
“Being a fireman has made me appreciate life a lot more, but made me realize how delicate life can be, and even more aware how dangerous life as a fireman is. It has made me aware that the reality of me dying for someone else's muckup is high. For a fireman, no matter how fit, wealthy, or smart you are, it's possible that death is only a matter of minutes away.” (anonymous Chicago firefighter)
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Guest Dispatchers Stories by Robin W.
