As I walked out of the locker room, I saw my officer traversing my field of view in a big hurry.
I was on the phone at the time, and my attention was drawn to his form crossing the bay floor. i/This must be something important./i
My curiosity was answered a moment later, when I heard a voice echoing from the watch desk: “1212 Eaton St! First due, first due!”
“Shit, we’ve got a box. I gotta go.”
Before I even finished the sentence, I tossed my phone in my pocket and broke into a full sprint from the back of the bay. I weaved my way through and around the boat, the tactical support truck, and the other pieces of Special Ops apparatus that stood between me and the engine.
I turned to Antoine as we pulled on our coats and remarked that I knew we’d end up in this neighborhood tonight. As I remember from my mentoring days, we routinely run into the notorious neighborhood of Barry Farms at least a few times a tour–tonight, on only my second tour back at 15, I had no clue that we’d be getting a first-due fire.
Seconds later, we turned the corner to Eaton St and started looking around—-nothing yet. A quick right turn later, we had hopped a curb and pulled up in front of a two-story end unit with fire coming from the second-floor window.
The first half of the crosslay smoothly found its way onto my shoulder; I spun and took off, pulling the remainder of the hoseline into a neat pile next to the wagon.
The Lieutenant and I pushed up the stairs until we could no longer see; we masked up at the top of the stairs and made the U-turn towards the fire room. Just inside the doorway, I parked myself off to the side and opened up into the ceiling.
It was quick work, since it was only a room-and-contents; thankfully, with the Squad and Engine 25 pushing right up behind us, we got it quick and were able to knock it within a few minutes.
—————
“Hey, rook!”
I was outside, replacing my SCBA bottle. I looked up through my mop of sweat-soaked hair to find one of the squad guys ambling towards me.
“Didn’t take you long to earn your shirt, huh?”
I cocked my head quizzically.
“You can’t wear 15 Engine colors until you get a fire.”
He paused as I made the ah-ha! face.
(I should have known it was coming.)
As he turned away, he laughed over his shoulder:
“The hard part is over. Now all you have to do is get out of probation, dumbass.”
As I walked out of the locker room, I saw my officer traversing my field of view in a big hurry.
I was on the phone at the time, and my attention was drawn to his form crossing the bay floor. This must be something important.
My curiosity was answered a moment later, when I heard a voice echoing from the watch desk: “1212 Eaton St! First due, first due!”
“Shit, we’ve got a box. I gotta go.”
Before I even finished the sentence, I tossed my phone in my pocket and broke into a full sprint from the back of the bay. I weaved my way through and around the boat, the tactical support truck, and the other pieces of Special Operations apparatus that stood between me and the engine.
I turned to Antoine as we pulled on our coats and remarked that I knew we’d end up in this neighborhood tonight. As I remember from my mentoring days, we routinely run into the notorious neighborhood of Barry Farms at least a few times a tour—but tonight, on only my second tour back at 15, I had no clue that we’d be getting a first-due fire.
Seconds later, we turned the corner to Eaton St and started looking around—nothing yet. A quick right turn later, we had hopped a curb and pulled up in front of a two-story end unit with fire coming from the second-floor window.
The first half of the crosslay smoothly found its way onto my shoulder; I spun and took off, pulling the remainder of the hoseline into a neat pile next to the wagon.
The Lieutenant and I pushed up the stairs until we could no longer see; we masked up at the top of the stairs and made a U-turn towards the fire room. Just inside the doorway, I parked myself off to the side and opened up into the ceiling.
It was quick work, since it was only a room-and-contents; thankfully, with the Squad and Engine 25 pushing right up behind us, we got it quick and were able to knock it within a few minutes.
The aftermath. Fire was showing from the window directly above the front door.
—————
“Hey, rook!”
I was outside, replacing my SCBA bottle. I looked up through my mop of sweat-soaked hair to find one of the squad guys ambling towards me.
“Didn’t take you long to earn your shirt, huh?”
I cocked my head quizzically.
“You can’t wear 15 Engine colors until you get a fire.”
He paused as I made the ah-ha! face.
(I should have known it was coming.)
As he turned away, he laughed over his shoulder:
“The hard part is over. Now all you have to do is hurry up and finish your probation, ya dumbass.”
This was the entryway at the bottom of the stairs; once inside, we had to make a sharp right and then navigate a walkway even narrower than this.
The only place to maneuver is to the left of this table of junk. The window you see on the right is barely accessible from the interior unless you start climbing.
Coconuts! (There were some really random items in here.)
