Do You Remember Your First Time?

They say you’ll always remember your first time.  I believe that to be very true.  My first time was about 32 years ago.  I can remember how excited I was; and my partner was a “virgin” as well.  We both felt that performance anxiety and worried whether we would be able to do it right.  We had been thinking about this moment for quite a while, and on this day, it was finally going to happen.  The one thing I was not prepared for was how quickly it would be over.  Nevertheless, both Dan and I were left sweaty and satisfied when it was over.  Everyone congratulated us and said we did a great job!

Of course, I am talking about my first interior fire attack; what did you pigs think I was referring to?

It was a typical afternoon at the “hosey”, the regular gang was hanging around the station, watching Leave It To Beaver, playing Burger Time, shooting pool, and snacking on Mays’ food and Icy Tea in the little cardboard cartons.  Fire calls were scarce “back in the day”, so we weren’t exactly expecting any action.  Even if the tones did drop, there was no telling how long we would wait for a driver to show up to get the apparatus out.  That was the worst part of being the “daytime crew”.

I had been a senior firefighter for a few months, and had been in on some fires, but Dan was a few years younger and had not had the opportunity to “pack up” on an actual fire yet.  We both had done our time as junior brigade members, “laying out and staying out” for the first two years in the company.  But we knew where every piece of equipment was, and we sponged up as much education that was available at the time.  We knew that one day, it would be our time.  Mentally, we were prepared; we had been trained, we practiced, and we dreamed about finally getting the opportunity to have “the knob” on a working fire.  

Then the tones started dropping… reported structure fire at 8 Hawthorne Road.  We saddled up quickly, lucky enough to have a driver, and a chief, plus Sticks and me.  Because of the terrain, we could see no header on our approach, and began convincing ourselves that this would be a letdown.  Boy, were we wrong!  We pulled up in front of this rancher, and saw the gray smoke squeezing out of every open window, crack and seam of the house.  Told that the fire was in the rear, Assistant Chief Powell ordered us to stretch the line to the back of the house.  We sprang into action… this was our time!   

The house sat on a steep slope, and the rear of the house had a walk-out basement.  One of the upper level windows was spewing fire like there was no tomorrow.  Ignoring the fact that we were petrified with fear, we masked up and within seconds, the hose line swelled with water pressure.  It was time to put out some fire.

Despite all we knew about getting inside and pushing the fire out, we panicked, and drilled the fiery window with a straight stream of water until it darkened down.   “Now let’s go get it”, I mumbled through my mask, as we yanked all the hose we could into position for the interior attack.  I felt like a bull, pulling open the screen door and kicking in the wooden door with a single boot strike!  The downstairs scene was eerie.  It was a finished recreation room with a pool table, and barely a thin wisp of smoke.  There were no signs of the inferno that raged one floor above.  Hell, this was going to be easy… or so I thought!  

We spotted the stairs immediately, and dragged the hose toward it, around the corner, and started up the steps.  We reached the top of the stairs, and BAM, we ran out of hose!  We were so close!  A quick peak around the corner and down the hall revealed fire still pouring out of the room of origin; it had lit off again.  We were able to stretch a few more feet of hose up the steps and direct a stream of water into the doorway, and again knocked down a bulk of the fire with our indirect attack.  I remember thinking, “if we just had 10 more feet of hose…” merely seconds before my wish was granted.  

I heard banging at the front door, as the second arriving crew was trying to gain access with the back-up line.  The cussing I heard from Mike and Jason on the other side told me their door was a bit more of a challenge than ours was.  I scooted over to the door, flipped open the deadbolt, and yanked the door open.  The look in their eyes was priceless as the object of their frustration disappeared into the billows of smoke and was replaced with my smiling face.  Taking advantage of their moment of hesitation, I grabbed their nozzle, and remember saying, “Thanks, we need this!”   I dragged it back to where Danny was holding his ground at the top of the basement steps.  “Look what I found”,  I yelled enthusiastically as I showed him the second hose line now in my possession.  He didn’t hesitate to drop his line and join me as we turned the corner into the kitchen and finished dousing the flames that had devoured that room.  

We basked in the afterglow of our achievements and loved that, despite not exactly going by the book, we successfully stopped this fire from taking the whole house.  It took a few decades, but the latest scientific studies now are suggesting that fires be attacked exactly the way a couple of green, smart-assed eighteen year-olds did that warm afternoon.  Ah yes, we were so far ahead of our time!

I have done battle with so many fires since that one, but will always have fond memories of that first time.  If there were ever any doubts about whether I would love doing this “job”, they were washed away that day.  I had a taste, and I liked it!