Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)
- Who said, “The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.”?
- In what movie (and who said it) did we hear, “There’s no place like home.”?
- In what song (and who sang it) did we hear:
Too many teardrops for one heart to be crying
Too many teardrops for one heart to carry on
Listen to the audio of this blog, read by Andy Adkins. Click the “Listen” button below.
Late Spring 1980. It seemed like a perfectly normal day to me. I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary to occur. But it so happened it would be the day that I fought my last fire…
After parking my ’76 Chevy pickup in the back lot, I casually strolled into City of Gainesville (Florida) Fire Station #1 at 0730.
I’d been with the fire department for two and a half years, joining soon after my discharge in July 1977. Since I’d been an aircraft Crash firefighter with the Navy (NAS Agana, Guam & USS Kitty Hawk), it was logical and a simple transition to a city firefighter. My annual salary was a shade over $10,000, slightly up from the $9,600 per year when I started in the Fall of 1977.
City firefighters (in Gainesville), worked one 24-hour shift, then off for 2 days. “A,” “B,” and “C” shifts, as they were called. I worked the “C” shift. We even had a “special” business card size calendar that fit into your wallet: Green (A shift), Blue (B shift), and Red (C shift). It helped plan out your days and, in my opinion, was much more user-friendly than today’s Microsoft LookOut or Google Calendar.
But I digress…
A Normal Day’s Routine
After morning muster, we began our normal in-house routine of checking over the firetrucks, making sure all the gear was aboard and ready, and ensuring our own personal firefighting gear was where it should be.
I placed my boots & fireman’s trousers next to the tailboard of Engine #1, my truck assignment for the day. I’d be the guy who hopped off at the fire hydrant nearest the fire, attach the 2½” line, then when I got the driver’s signal he’s ready for water, open the valve, allowing water to flow to the engine. Even though an engine carries 500 gallons of water, that would be gone within a few minutes.
This was a weekday, so we were in for a little training, as well as a ride through several neighborhoods in our quadrant to check/measure fire hydrant pressure. That’s something that the city fire department did at that time (late 70s).
Then we’d head back to the fire house for lunch, and more training—bookwork this time. Training never ended.
No hot drills or rescue drills scheduled for this day.
It had been a relatively quiet day. While the city had several calls—we knew when another one of the seven city fire stations rolled for an emergency—none came to the Main Street station during the day. Not unusual and while I loved fighting fires—both in the Navy and as a civilian—it was nice to periodically have a quiet day…
The Call
… until that call came in. We’d finished supper, put away dishes & extra food, made sure the fire trucks were ready to roll, and were just relaxing, either in front of the TV, playing cards, or reading. Me? I was in college, working on homework, something I did every day/night. No rest for the student, so to speak. It was about nine at night.
The firehouse alarm went off. It was a Klaxon alarm, similar to what we’d had at the Crash barn at NAS Agana, Guam. We all jumped, but weren’t quite sure who would roll. Like always, we hurried toward our assigned trucks.
Station #1 had two fire engines, each with a crew of four or five, a ladder truck, and a paramedic crew who drove a pickup truck; plus the shift chief.
The communication dispatcher announced over the radio, “House fire, address, Engine #1 respond.”
That was us. I kicked off my shoes and jumped into my boots, pulling up my trousers—with red suspenders, of course—then slipped on my coat and helmet. About five seconds.
I was the only one on the tailboard—we were short a man. But the full crew consisted of the driver, Larue, the truck lieutenant, Dan, the lead hose man, Freeman, and me.
The truck was out of the station about 15 seconds after the call came in. That wasn’t unusual—training, training, and more training. That, and the fact that firefighters love to fight fires.
Since I was riding the tailboard alone, my thoughts went from, “Get outta the way, we’re heading to a fire,” to my old early childhood favorite cartoon theme song, “Here I come to save the day, that means that Mighty Mouse is on his way.” Or… something like that.
When We First Arrived
From the address, we knew it was a house fire in a local neighborhood, probably less than three miles from the station. Larue would get us there in less than five minutes. Lights flashing and siren blaring—music to a firefighter’s ears. And since we were the only truck rolling, it was probably a small house.
The street and the number indicated the house was on the poor side of town. Probably wooden and wouldn’t last long if there was a real fire. I say “if” because we received a lot of false alarms, too. Many of which were someone smelling or seeing smoke, and that still happens today.
Like most firefighters, I smelled the fire before I saw it. Freeman did too—he caught my eye and smiled. We’d fought several fires together and Freeman was one of the best. Always alert, always ready to attack the fire, but always had your back.
There’s a trust among firefighters, much like I’d experienced in both my Navy duty stations.
Freeman got serious as he put on his game face and donned his air tank and mask. Since I rode the tailboard, I’d put mine on when we got to the fire.
Larue stopped at the end of the street and I jumped off, grabbing the 2½” hose and ran to the hydrant, wrapping the hose around, stepping on it so it would stay put, and I signaled Larue with a thumbs up. About 5 seconds. Larue put the pedal to the medal and while he drove another 100 feet to the fire, the hose fed out along the ground.
I did my thing: uncapped the hydrant, screwed the hose on, and waited for Larue’s signal. I could see him hooking the other end of the hose to the engine pump. We’d practiced this so many times, it was second nature for us both. He gave me the thumbs up, I turned on the hydrant and the water flowed, expanding the hose as it made its way to the engine. Less than 60 seconds.
My Initial Thoughts
Between the physical work of pulling the hose, connecting to the hydrant, and running back toward the fire, my heart was pumping and my adrenaline level was high. I was in great shape though—most firefighters take pride in staying healthy and in shape.
When I got to the truck, I donned my air tank & mask, and sprinted toward the fire. Freeman and Lt. Dan had already pulled the 1½” hand line off the truck and were initially spraying water on the structure. It was almost fully engulfed. My initial thought was, “this house was gone.” We’d fought house fires like this many times.
The city police were there, two cars I believe, and they stood back, ready to help if needed. They reported talking with the neighbors, and let us know that no one was in the house. That was good; that meant that we could attack the fire without having to worry about… well, you know.
I got behind Freeman as his backup. Both of us were low to the ground—this wasn’t our first rodeo together. Freeman inched his way into the house and adjusted the nozzle to spray a wide stream, both knocking the fire back and keeping us safe from the heat and flames and potential flare-up.
It Didn’t Take Long to Put the Fire Out
The fire wasn’t that big or that bad, but it was still a fire. After a couple of minutes, most of the fire was out. We both stood up and made our way through the house, dousing anything with flames. Smoke damage all over, mostly everything was black—either by the fire or the smoke, and of course, water damage from us extinguishing the fire.
Lt. Dan came in and helped us inspect other potential areas of flames. He noticed smoke drifting from above us, so I went back to the truck and grabbed the 8’ grappling hook. When I came back in, I rammed the hook through the ceiling and pulled down the part where Lt. Dan noticed the smoke. There was a small fire in the ceiling, which meant we needed to pull more of it down.
After I pulled down about a six foot square—it wasn’t exactly square, mind you—we didn’t spot any more flames. Still, I went back out to get a 6’ folding ladder to inspect the rest of the crawl space between the ceiling and the roof. I used my lantern to inspect the area and reported nothing more.
The fire was out, we were done, time to wrap the hose, and head back to the station.
Lasting Impressions… even today
After a fire is out and… we felt comfortable that is was truly out… we’d roll up the hoses, restack and refold both the 1½” hand line and the 2½” onto the truck, secure the equipment we used, mount up and drive home.
As I was putting away my air tank & mask, I looked over in the crowd and noticed an older lady—a black woman—near to tears. There were a few other neighbors nearby, trying to comfort her. I’d witnessed this many times as a firefighter. They tell you not to become involved—you need to separate your emotions from your job. I’d done that time & time again.
But this time… it was different. I can’t explain why.
I walked over and asked her if she was alright. Her face was wet from so many tears, it was hard for me to hold back my own. She looked up at me and said through heaving sobs, “That was my house, everything I owned. All my memories, my pictures, my bible, my entire life. All gone. I don’t know what I’m going to do; I don’t know what I’m going to do.” And she began sobbing again.
Firefighters Have Feelings, too
I did something I’d never done before. I reached out and hugged her. I’m six foot four and wrapped her small frail body in my arms. I don’t know why I did that, but something spoke to me. She just sobbed as I held her.
A young policewoman came over and put her hand gently on the lady’s shoulder. “We’ll help you find a place, ma’am.” I looked at her with wet eyes and mumbled, “Thank you,” let go, and walked back toward the truck, keeping my head down. I didn’t want the other fire crew to see my tears, so I wiped my face, stepped back onto the tailboard of the truck, and let Larue & Lt. Dan know I was ready.
Freeman knew something was up, but he left me to my own thoughts. I know he felt something, too. That was more than just a house—it was somebody’s home… their entire life, all up in flames.
That was the last fire I fought as a professional firefighter with the City of Gainesville. From the time we got the call to the time we put out the fire, rolled the hoses, and headed back to the station, it was probably less than an hour.
Though I have to admit, those 60 minutes were a major turning point in my life.
The Signs Were There
Some people may term that as a “Paradigm Shift;” others may talk about seeing the “writing on the wall.” I wouldn’t describe it either way. It was a culmination of things.
I was 24 years old and had two main goals at that point in my life. One, to marry my sweetheart, Becky. We’d been dating for a year or so. We actually met in karate class; our mantra became—and still is: “She threw me and I fell for her.”
Yeah, I know. Don’t give up my day job.
The second goal was to finish college, get my degree in Electronics Engineering, and figure out from there what I’d do with the rest of my life. I had just transferred from Santa Fe Community College to the University of Florida College of Engineering. My GPA went from a 3.7 to a 2.9—ouch. I was struggling at the University. Engineering School required a lot more studying than a simple community college AS.
I’d been thinking about leaving the fire department for a few weeks. I didn’t think I could work full-time at the fire department, attend the university full-time, and maintain a respectable GPA.
I hadn’t let anyone know other than Becky. Since we were going to get married, she said she’d support us while I finished school. She worked at the University hospital in Intensive Care and made enough money to support the two of us.
I came from “old school” and wasn’t sure that’s how it was supposed to work. She came from the same “old school” and told me several times that she swore she’d never support a husband financially. Funny thing—we still joke about that today. But after 41 years (we married in Spring 1981), we’re still together.
I guess “old school” works.
The Fire Department Never Left Me
As I often say, “Life is a Journey, One Step Followed by Another.” I’m living proof of that, as I’m sure many of you are.
Many of my Navy shipmates stayed in for a career and loved almost every minute, every duty station, every port, and every challenge. At least that’s what they tell me now. Many of my city firefighter friends stayed and made it a career and are now retired, often looking back on many great times.
Even though I left the fire department, like the Navy… it never left me. Now and then I’d stop by the fire station for a quick visit and sometimes stay for lunch. Firefighters know how to cook a good meal. When they built a new fire station, I stopped by to reminisce about the good ol’ days, and sometimes one of my old firefighting buddies would still be on shift.
My wife and I are both retired now… we’re in our mid-60s and enjoying life. While I sometimes crave that firehouse fried chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy, white acre peas, cornbread and biscuits (nothing like firehouse biscuits), we eat a little healthier these days.
I find it makes a difference, a big difference.
Until we meet again,
Andy
Previous Posts Mentioned in this Blog
- #48—Not Just Another House Fire
- #53—You Always Remember Your First
- #47—Memorable “Moments,” Part 1—the Flight Deck
- #92—Walking Through Fire… Literally
- #21—Reveille!… and Other “Alarm Clocks” Over the Years
- #26–That Adrenaline Rush
Answers
- Dolly Parton.
- The Wizard of Oz (1939), Dorothy (Judy Garland).
- 96 Tears (1966), Mark and the Mysterians; written by R. Martinez.
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Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.