Single Family House, Smoke Showing
I have had my firefighter certification for less than a week and already I have been inside two structure fires. The first one was a small, contained kitchen fire and I got to go in with another guy and search for fire extension in the attic. We put on our face masks and started sucking down air while we crawled around the hot, confined space searching for hot spots. I felt the sweat rolling off of my face in rivers, I felt it roll down my back and pool in the spot where my turnout pants met the tshirt I was wearing. It was hot and there was smoke and dust everywhere, and I couldn't wipe the huge grin off of my face. I could hardly believe that I was actually being called to use everything I had learned in training! I was breathing air in an actual fire house! We stayed up for about 15 minutes to make sure that nothing would ignite, and when we came back outside and around the corner of the house, I could see six of my brothers standing at the engine. I pulled my face mask off and the grin was still there, bigger than ever. When they saw me they all started clapping, it was a moment of pride and comraderie that I had no idea would actually exist. When I told one of the guys who wasn't there about it he said, "what the hell is this, Ladder 49!? No one clapped for me when I came out of my first fire!" He was proud too, and it's amazing to really feel how much they all want me to succeed. We few, we happy few! We band of brothers.
And as I sit here typing this I can still smell the smoke on my clothing from the fire I just came out of. It was a mutual aid call to wellington, and when I pulled up to the station Markian was standing there motioning me to hurry up. "What's going on," I asked him as I ran past and started gearing up. "There's a worker in progress in Wellington and you're next to go." My heart lept into my throat. I double-checked all my gear. Triple-checked it. "House fire still burning?" "Yep." As I buckled my last buckle the two liuetenants and other firefighter who were going to came out to the bay from the control room, and we loaded onto our backup engine, 42. I grabbed one of the jump seats and put my headset on as we rolled out. "You guys should go ahead and pack up," the one LT said from inside the cab. We were going to be going in.
The drive to Wellington seemed to take twice as long as it usually does. My mind was a mobius strip of all the things we might do when we got there. I thought about handing the hoseline. Regulating my breathing to make the air last longer. Climbing up onto a roof with an axe and placing a roof ladder. The engine made a sharp right turn and I could smell smoke. We passed ambulances, police cars, rescue trucks, and came to a stop. I stood up, belted and cinched my air pack, grabbed a pike pole and pick head axe and headed toward the fire scene, toward my already in action mode LTs. LT Ryba was talking to one of WFD's officers, and as I walked up he looked at me, looked at the other firefighter who came with us, looked back at me and told me to get my air on. I saw smoke billowing out of the open attached garage, and out of a ventilation hole in the roof. I was swallowing my beating heart back down into my chest as I pulled the straps of my air mask tight against my face. All I could think to myself was that I needed to have a good seal against my face because we were going into heavy smoke conditions. I walked behind my LT toward the opening to the basement and the smoke kept getting worse and worse. One of the Wellington guys tapped me on the shoulder and put an axe in my hand while saying, "here you go, bro. Be careful." Firefighters in turnout gear are sexless and I chuckled to myself.
I kept close watch of Ben's airpack in front of me as we descended the cluttered staircase. There was a charged hoseline to my left which I made a point to keep contact with via my left foot. When we got halfway down the stairs I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I heard Ben ahead of me, "you still with me Emily?" I knelt down to feel the hoseline in my hand and said, "I'm with ya," and hoped he didn't notice the quiver in my voice. Five more steps in and the only way I knew I was heading in the right direction was that hoseline in my hand. I prayed that the guys ahead of me were following it too, that it wouldn't be an unmanned nozzle at the end. Five more steps after that there was a break in the smoke and I could see the beam of the flashlight ahead. Ben turned to me and asked for the axe. He started to put it through one of the overhead windows and even though the glass was broken I noticed that there wasn't any smoke moving. I went up to it and saw that there was a plastic dome over the top and asked him for the axe back. I shoved it up through the plastic, ripping huge holes into it, and the smoke started to move out. He let me do the other two windows in the room and it dawned on me that it's not an exaggeration when people say firefighting is the most physically demanding job in the world. I was standing in a room that was probably 150 degrees, wearing about 50 pounds of gear, trying to shove a 15 pound axe head through a small overhead window. My shoulders were screaming. My forearms went into some prehistoric overdrive. My breathing quickened and I gave up the thought to try and regulate it. When I was done with the windows my heart was beating harder in my chest than it's ever beaten before.
We stayed in the basement for about another ten minutes. We found the homeowner's dog, dead from smoke inhalation. When we went upstairs I found the cat, also dead. I wrapped it in a towel and took it out to the backyard, away from the homeowner's eyes. I went around front, turned off my airpack, took off my helmet and mask and knelt on the ground. I said a prayer, asking for more strength. I was utterly tapped out. I sucked down gatorade and sat in the shade of a tree, watching all of the hustle and bustle around the house. When I got to the point that I felt I could go back in, Wellington cleared us to leave the scene. I left with a mixed feeling of excitement for having gotten the experience, and disappointment for feeling that I could have done more, should have been less exhausted. There is so much to learn. Today is the first time that it really sank in. I'm a firefighter.
And as I sit here typing this I can still smell the smoke on my clothing from the fire I just came out of. It was a mutual aid call to wellington, and when I pulled up to the station Markian was standing there motioning me to hurry up. "What's going on," I asked him as I ran past and started gearing up. "There's a worker in progress in Wellington and you're next to go." My heart lept into my throat. I double-checked all my gear. Triple-checked it. "House fire still burning?" "Yep." As I buckled my last buckle the two liuetenants and other firefighter who were going to came out to the bay from the control room, and we loaded onto our backup engine, 42. I grabbed one of the jump seats and put my headset on as we rolled out. "You guys should go ahead and pack up," the one LT said from inside the cab. We were going to be going in.
The drive to Wellington seemed to take twice as long as it usually does. My mind was a mobius strip of all the things we might do when we got there. I thought about handing the hoseline. Regulating my breathing to make the air last longer. Climbing up onto a roof with an axe and placing a roof ladder. The engine made a sharp right turn and I could smell smoke. We passed ambulances, police cars, rescue trucks, and came to a stop. I stood up, belted and cinched my air pack, grabbed a pike pole and pick head axe and headed toward the fire scene, toward my already in action mode LTs. LT Ryba was talking to one of WFD's officers, and as I walked up he looked at me, looked at the other firefighter who came with us, looked back at me and told me to get my air on. I saw smoke billowing out of the open attached garage, and out of a ventilation hole in the roof. I was swallowing my beating heart back down into my chest as I pulled the straps of my air mask tight against my face. All I could think to myself was that I needed to have a good seal against my face because we were going into heavy smoke conditions. I walked behind my LT toward the opening to the basement and the smoke kept getting worse and worse. One of the Wellington guys tapped me on the shoulder and put an axe in my hand while saying, "here you go, bro. Be careful." Firefighters in turnout gear are sexless and I chuckled to myself.
I kept close watch of Ben's airpack in front of me as we descended the cluttered staircase. There was a charged hoseline to my left which I made a point to keep contact with via my left foot. When we got halfway down the stairs I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I heard Ben ahead of me, "you still with me Emily?" I knelt down to feel the hoseline in my hand and said, "I'm with ya," and hoped he didn't notice the quiver in my voice. Five more steps in and the only way I knew I was heading in the right direction was that hoseline in my hand. I prayed that the guys ahead of me were following it too, that it wouldn't be an unmanned nozzle at the end. Five more steps after that there was a break in the smoke and I could see the beam of the flashlight ahead. Ben turned to me and asked for the axe. He started to put it through one of the overhead windows and even though the glass was broken I noticed that there wasn't any smoke moving. I went up to it and saw that there was a plastic dome over the top and asked him for the axe back. I shoved it up through the plastic, ripping huge holes into it, and the smoke started to move out. He let me do the other two windows in the room and it dawned on me that it's not an exaggeration when people say firefighting is the most physically demanding job in the world. I was standing in a room that was probably 150 degrees, wearing about 50 pounds of gear, trying to shove a 15 pound axe head through a small overhead window. My shoulders were screaming. My forearms went into some prehistoric overdrive. My breathing quickened and I gave up the thought to try and regulate it. When I was done with the windows my heart was beating harder in my chest than it's ever beaten before.
We stayed in the basement for about another ten minutes. We found the homeowner's dog, dead from smoke inhalation. When we went upstairs I found the cat, also dead. I wrapped it in a towel and took it out to the backyard, away from the homeowner's eyes. I went around front, turned off my airpack, took off my helmet and mask and knelt on the ground. I said a prayer, asking for more strength. I was utterly tapped out. I sucked down gatorade and sat in the shade of a tree, watching all of the hustle and bustle around the house. When I got to the point that I felt I could go back in, Wellington cleared us to leave the scene. I left with a mixed feeling of excitement for having gotten the experience, and disappointment for feeling that I could have done more, should have been less exhausted. There is so much to learn. Today is the first time that it really sank in. I'm a firefighter.
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