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March 01 The heart of a firefigherA call goes out in the middle of the night to 911
A house is on fire and people are trapped inside.
A second later my pager goes off I jump out of
bed as I rush to get dressed my heart is pounding
out of my chest. I think to my self I must hurry
faster and faster I move to get out the door.
Slam goes my door to my house. A Second
later another slam echoes it. I jam my key into my
ignition and turn the key praying that my truck will start.
It turns over and I say a quick thanks. Then I jam it
into gear and plant my foot on the accellerator. I
rush out into traffic on a snowy night my fire light
just a flashing from my dash. I do my best to keep my
truck on the road as I slip and slide my way to the
fire station. As I go I am reminded quickly that I have not
put on my heater. I have another five miles to go to get
to the station. As I crest a hill I can see the station below
Me. I sigh in mild relief that I am in time to jump aboard
the truck. As I silde my way into the yard I come to a
stop. The truck is waiting on the platform for the rest of
us to get there. I get out and race to my gear using the
three minute rule I don my gear and jump on to the truck.
As I sit and do final preperations for
a interior fire attack and rescue I check my gear and
make sure that everything is functional and up to code.
All the while the driver races all of us that made it to
the truck to the scene. Each of us going through our own form
of mental hell wondering just what we are going to face when we
get to the scene. When we get there we are greeted by the grand
mother of all fires. A two story home completly on fire. The flames
soaring some thirty feet above the house. I put my mask on over
my face and turn on my self contained breathing apparatus
(s.c.b.a) in short. I run to the back of the truck and pull off
a inch and a half hose and then me and my fellow fire fighters
hook up the hose to the truck. The driver of the truck is also the
pump engineer he charges the line with water from the trucks
holding tank.
Two of us firefighters take up the nozzle and begin our attack we go in as a
team on our hands and knees the one in the back hanging on to my
Ankle as I grope around through the smoke ladden darkness
sweeping my way back and forth along the ground hoping to
feel a foot or a hand as I go along searching from room to
room calling out as loudly as I can from my mask. My
heart pounding even more in my chest as I feel that I may
not find anyone alive. As I move my way to the second floor
I see that my oxygen level in my tank is getting low but I press on
knowing that I am their only hope of living. As I enter another room I
feel a small hand and instantly I grab on and pull the small thing to my
chest a lump forming in my throat as I see that this small child is covered
in soot and black smoke. I rip off my hat and put my mask over the small
childs face so she can breathe clean fresh air. I turn and look through the
rest of the smoke filled room. Then that is when I see a small boy laying
over near the window looking nearly life less. I tapp my team mate on
the shoulder and point out the small boy. As a team we make our way
over to the little boy all the while I am cradling the little girl to my chest
Feeling her small chest rise and fall faintly. Time is of the essence
Time is short for us we must hurry as we reach the little boy
My team mate mirrors my actions and puts his mask on the
little boy. We then deside to leave only to see that we
will witness mother natures cruelest thing a complete
flash over above our heads.
The termprature
ratchets up another five to ten degrees as the ceiling becomes
ingulfed in fire. We crawl out as fast as we can each one
carrying precious cargo and all the while dragging our line
back out with us only using it to spray our way out . As we
progress our way out my lungs burn from the intensity of the fire and smoke.
I cough and realize my vision is becomming blurred. I must do what I can and
feel for my line. Feeling it and knowing that it is the way to salvation and free air
I lead my team mate and my self out of the fire with the two children safely enclosed
within our turn out jackets. We make it out just in time for our t pass alarms to go off.
As we exit the burning building with our precious cargo in our arms we are greeted
by a dozen more arms as we hand off our precious cargo to the medics on the
scene we are greeted with many thumps on the back and good jobs to boot.
But in the back of my mind I wonder is there anyone else left in there.
But for me relief comes when I see both parents come up and say a tearful
thank you. I just hug them and say you are welcome. All the while I say a prayer
to my father and mother for raising me up with the heart of a firefighter.
People always say we are the breed apart after today I believe that to be true.
You see I was that little girl and I was saved by a firefighter when my parents home
burned flat. But because of that one selfless fire fighter I am alive to tell his story
and mine. I followed in his foot steps cause you see he was my grandfather and
I respect him so he is the personification of what it means to be a fire fighter.
He is the heart of a firefighter. Comments (3)
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