It's 3:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. I'm like a anxious kid waiting to go on vacation to Disneyland. Larrieann and I are headed to Sunriver in the morning to visit my good friend Lauren and his wife Ellen. He moved away after retiring some years ago and frankly my life has not been the same without him around. Rather then to continue tossing and turning in bed disturbing Larrieann I decided to slip to the computer and noticed this is my 100th blog entry. After reading back through some of my fire stories I could see how the unwitting reader might begin to think that billy blaze must have been the only firefighter that poor little volunteer fire department had involved in it.
Seeing pictures a couple days after a nighttime steep angle rescue we had several months ago I was amazed by what I saw. Yes, I was one of the firefighters being dangled over the edge like live bait but the fifteen firefighters dug in on top, trying to find traction on that slick road were the real hero's in my mind that night. They literally held all our lives over the cliff in their gloved hands.
Netta, I can't think of another paramedic I would rather work with when the "shit has hit the fan" at some accident scene. Calm and decisive under pressure though she does cry too easily afterwards which makes it harder for me to keep my rough tuff side showing.
Rudy the best tender (water tanker) operator of all times. Hearing crackle over my portable radio a stern message from fire command. "Tell that Damn Guy from I.V. (Rudy operating the tender) to SLOW DOWN!." We were fighting this huge mill fire over in Rogue River where all the water had to be shipped to us from town a mile away. We were spraying thousands of gallons of water per minute and it all had to be hauled to us using a round robin of tenders converging from all over the surrounding counties. It wasn't a half hour later that the meek fire commanders voice came back over the air, "tell that guy from I.V. to pick it back up again". Rudy was the only one out there that day keeping his dump tank full. We laughed and laughed about that on the fire ground, as we could hear Rudy again shifting through the many gears on that big truck pulling everything that rig had from it that day.
The point being ninety nine times out of a hundred none of my fire adventures were ever accomplished alone. The one thing I enjoy most about being a fireman is the camaraderie. I know that if I were trapped in a burning building that firefighters from adjoining towns, counties, across Oregon and the west coast would keep coming to my aid till either they got me out or there was nothing left but a deep black smoldering hole. And then they would still be standing there looking into the abyss just by chance that I would crawl back over the edge so they could help me stand and brush me off. That's what being a fireman is all about the camaraderie towards each other and our communities.
I sure wish Larrieann would wake-up so we could leave, 6 o-clock in the morning...
I can assure you if you are having that thought about me it could be no further from the truth. Yes, often times I have been the stone attached to the leading edge of an arrow shaft. But we all know it takes a fine craftsmen (training officer) putting all the parts of an arrow together properly to make a wooden stick fly straight to it's target. A fire training officer picks a straight stick and then begins slowly chipping a raw obsidian stone into a sharpened arrowhead. After some effort he carefully attaches it to the slotted arrow shaft holding it in place with sinew and then he decorates the back of the shaft with feathers to make all the parts work together so it will fly straight.
I can fervently remember looking back across the swollen Illinois River during my big river rescue several years ago, seeing the five firefighters in a row poised sternly, leaning hard against my weight while not letting me get swept down the raging river. I couldn't tell you who a single one of them was today but they were just as much apart of that rescue that day as any roll I played in it.
Seeing pictures a couple days after a nighttime steep angle rescue we had several months ago I was amazed by what I saw. Yes, I was one of the firefighters being dangled over the edge like live bait but the fifteen firefighters dug in on top, trying to find traction on that slick road were the real hero's in my mind that night. They literally held all our lives over the cliff in their gloved hands.
I have got to fight fire with lots of folks over the years but there are a few guys and gals that stand out in my mind. Darren, big hulk of a man, drives a semi hauling bread up and down I-5. I loved having him on the attack line with me, especially when he was in front of me. I can remember him nervously one time turning to me during one of our roaring house fires and mumbling through his breathing apparatus to me "shouldn't we put some more of this out before advancing? It's getting hot up here", as I've got my hand firmly placed in the middle of his back pushing him towards the seat of the fire. I was feeling no effect from the heat standing in the shadow of this man.
Netta, I can't think of another paramedic I would rather work with when the "shit has hit the fan" at some accident scene. Calm and decisive under pressure though she does cry too easily afterwards which makes it harder for me to keep my rough tuff side showing.
Rudy the best tender (water tanker) operator of all times. Hearing crackle over my portable radio a stern message from fire command. "Tell that Damn Guy from I.V. (Rudy operating the tender) to SLOW DOWN!." We were fighting this huge mill fire over in Rogue River where all the water had to be shipped to us from town a mile away. We were spraying thousands of gallons of water per minute and it all had to be hauled to us using a round robin of tenders converging from all over the surrounding counties. It wasn't a half hour later that the meek fire commanders voice came back over the air, "tell that guy from I.V. to pick it back up again". Rudy was the only one out there that day keeping his dump tank full. We laughed and laughed about that on the fire ground, as we could hear Rudy again shifting through the many gears on that big truck pulling everything that rig had from it that day.
The point being ninety nine times out of a hundred none of my fire adventures were ever accomplished alone. The one thing I enjoy most about being a fireman is the camaraderie. I know that if I were trapped in a burning building that firefighters from adjoining towns, counties, across Oregon and the west coast would keep coming to my aid till either they got me out or there was nothing left but a deep black smoldering hole. And then they would still be standing there looking into the abyss just by chance that I would crawl back over the edge so they could help me stand and brush me off. That's what being a fireman is all about the camaraderie towards each other and our communities.
I sure wish Larrieann would wake-up so we could leave, 6 o-clock in the morning...
No comments:
Post a Comment