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Waterways

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As the radio crackled to life, sputtering forth the first clear transmission I could hear in several minutes, I stared at the black plastic clipped to my lapel in incredulity.

Shouldn't we move off this rickety-ass dock before th—

[FLOOOOSH]

The fireboat brought my firefighting gear from hot and dry to wet and swampy in a mere second. My brain reminded me of standing on the bridge in front of Busch Gardens' Log Flume ride, when there was actually a railing to catch me as the water battered me back.

Instead, I was forced backwards onto the rotted strip of wood slatwork that had been weakened by time, water, and the embers drifting over the Washington Yacht Club. I heard the boards crack under my feet, and clutched my hoseline in the orange light of the boats burning all around us.

Image courtesy of Sgt. Wayne Nelson, BFC3 Aide.

—————

I glanced at the clock.

2:52

Ugh, dammit. I'll never be able to stay up until the first man shows up.

As I prayed for the earliest possible arrival of anyone from the next shift, my half-closed eyes drifted up towards the computer monitor with our dispatch information on a fifteen-second refresh.

Aw, shit.

My stupored run to the watch desk smacked my head off the sitting room door—thankfully, my echoes of "everybody, everybody, marina fire at fifteen hundred M street!" had died down and my skull's buzzing had stopped by the time we all rolled out the door.

My midnight routine of donning my gear is pretty well burned into my psyche. I have, as I've mentioned before, awakened to the wagon lurching to a halt and looked down to find myself in full gear, helmeted, and with my hand already on the door latch. I guess we're here, wherever that might be. But this time I paused; I glanced out the window, struck by the large fireball reflecting off the glassine surface of the Anacostia River.

Engine 18 had already driven down a small hill that led towards the docks. I grabbed 250' of pre-connected hoseline, and my layout man grabbed another hundred feet that was neatly bundled into a hose rack.

The dock was just wide enough to allow us to squeeze past another company already operating a hoseline into what used to be a fairly sizeable boat. Three yacht-type things and a small speedboat were fully involved on our arrival, and we quickly discovered that pissing into them with our handlines was proving futile.

Image courtesy of W. Nelson

"We should just knock holes in all of 'em and let the river put it out!" joked an officer nearby. I sighed as a adjusted my grip on the hose and leaned into it. Well, I did say that I wanted something to do… but this is gonna take forever.

Suddenly, a solution arrived, guns cocked and ready to go.

"Fireboat to Ops, we're in position, opening up the line now."

Wait… what?

Either I hadn't been paying attention to my radio, or some officer hadn't been particularly talkative tonight, but all I knew was that the Fireboat and I were now directly facing each other—and I was sadly out-classed in weaponry.

—————

A line of firefighters made our way back towards the main boathouse, lumbering up the gangway through sheets of water cascading down around us. Truck 7 had left a circular saw on the dock, and I grabbed it—I figured that the junior man on their shift probably wouldn't want to go fishing for it after it was blown of the dock.

We watched the rest of the proceedings from the relatively dry accomodations of a nearby lawn. After our Fireboat had knocked down most of the fire, we still had to go in and mop up a few stubborn hotspots, including the engine compartment of the speedboat (which proved to be a real pain in the ass to access because the fire had riddled the dock with holes). Nevertheless, the universe maintained a sense of humor: as soon as we had flowed enough water into the speedboat to "save" it… it promptly sank.

Image courtesy of W. Nelson

—————

The sun was breaking over the horizon as we packed up and headed home. Driving back across the bridge, I took one last look towards the marina. All of the soot and oil and garbage from the fire was slowly making its way downstream, marring the surface of the already-dirty river. But despite the Halley's Comet of filth flowing under the bridge, it was still a beautiful morning.

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, feeling the breeze cool my sweat-soaked clothes.

Man, I really hope my relief is here.

Posted by on July 27, 2011 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fires, Fires/Incidents

“The Lost Art of Firemanship” – an excerpt.

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I was recently digging through the supply closet at the firehouse when I came across this withered citation in a battered frame. I had seen similar items littering the walls of other firehouses, but I had never paid much attention to them—nearby, the proudly-snapped photos of big fires and grinning, smoke-stained crews always proved to be more visually appealing.

However, as I held the wooden frame and blew the dust off the smudged glass, I was curious about the wording of the citation itself. Issued from the District of Columbia Associate of Insurance Agents on October 8th, 1958, the citation offers high praise for Engine 15 as the "Company of the Year."

In recognition of devotion to duty, great firemanship, courage, initiative and teamwork in the highest tradition of the Department, this Citation is presented.

Courage, teamwork… anyone who's received so much as a Most-Improved Player trophy from Little League has heard these buzzwords countless times.

But firemanship? What the hell is that?

I had never heard anyone use the term around the firehouse, but I suspected it was the origin of the wistful conversations the older guys have about my younger generation. It's not uncommon to hear cries of "they don't make 'em like they used to," or declarations of a historic pride and dedication that we'll never understand. The "new" Department, they claim, doesn't go to fires, and seems to be solely a miserable medical department with some really big, really red ambulances that can't transport patients.

Now just waitaminnit, you old bastard. My generation's level of dedication to the job—no matter what our call volume consists of—can be addressed later; but maybe we could cross a little bit of this gap if we understood this "firemanship" you speak of.

The Googles did not fail me; interestingly enough, the top hit for "firemanship" was a three-year-old blog called biglinefire, written by the mysterious figure of Jason B.

I was unable to reach him via his blog; as I cannot find any other contact information for him, I was unable to ask for permission to reproduce the excellent post entitled "The Lost Art of Firemanship."

It's absolutely worth a full read. I simply cannot leave this post with a link, but instead must offer some of my favorite excerpts; I can only hope that the gods of copyright will look favorably upon my actions, as I seek no profit from Jason's writing.

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Speaking of the most basic tenets of the science behind firefighting, Jason opens the generation gap early:

We learned hot air rises and fire always looks for the path of least resistance. I learned these things when I was 12 years old. Why is it that this basic information seems to be foreign to most people entering the fire service today? Yes that was many years ago… but the kids these days have grown-up in a much different time and culture than I did.

Although, he would posit, the blame for my generation's problems rests on more shoulders than our own:

…Many of the “kids” appear to lack basic life skills: how to clean a toilet; how to press a shirt; how to cook a basic meal or how to follow simple instructions. It is not all their fault. We as a society must take our share of the blame.

We again fail them in the academy… I have seen as little as four hours of the fire academy dedicated to SCBA… The instructors have spent much more time on topics such as Hazmat, confined space and terrorism. 

The writer fully admits that problems without solutions are useless; he offers a bit of advice from his point of view, regarding moving forward and keeping the problem from growing any worse:

…we cannot change how the next generation is raised. But we can encourage vocational education. It should be ok to take a shop class.* People should know how things work and how to fix things and I don’t mean debugging a computer program or how to hard reboot a CPU.

…we must not forsake our traditions. Fire has been fought by men and women, crawling down hot, smokey hallways taking a beating to put the fire out. It was dangerous then and remains dangerous now. Let’s not let forget the lessons learned by our predecessors; take the time to teach the New Kid what firemanship is about, what the job is about.

* (Just a side note: I graduated from college in 2008, and was never offered anything even close to a shop class during my seventeen years of formal education; in fact, the majority of the people I knew in high school or college couldn't work with tools if their life depended on it. Thanks for looking out for me, Dad!)

His parting sentiment is a nice recap; again, the entire post is a great read when taken together, but the wrap-up is a good reminder to us young 'uns… anyone who truly cares will take it to heart:

As a profession we must return to the basics of our trade: Hot, dirty, hard work that every generation has done before us. Keep yourself educated, in shape and be true to the job. Remember we are the fire service and it is only as good as we make. Do not forget Firemanship, because without it public works could do our job.

—————

So what happened? Why is my generation so different from the previous two? Have entire similarly-aged recruit classes been genetically predisposed to have an "I don't give a shit" attitude? Or is it that if we were working our asses off and going to fires as often as our predecessors, we'd be better firemen over all?

Ah, the nature v. nurture debate rages on. Maybe firemanship died with all the fires. But methinks that lazy firemen have existed since the profession started, and good, dedicated firemen will continue to prosper in any Department. It's really just up to the individual.

But on firemanship: it's nice to finally have a term that represents that… thing. That idea that you can't quite put your finger on, but the guys you really respect seem to have it mastered. It almost feels like a spiritual concept, something many of us strive for but few will ever really embody.

I certainly don't have it yet; but figuring out what the hell it is sounds like a good first step.

Posted by on June 17, 2011 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Rescue Topics, Personal

A consulting gig on 15th and East Capitol, NE.

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4:06 a.m. – Engine 8 is dispatched on a single-engine local alarm for smoke in the area.

4:15 a.m. – Everyone else is dispatched to deal with what they found.

A great video clip can be found at this link; credit to Vernard Green on Medic 8 at the time.

(As usual, click for full-size images.)

Motir Services, Inc. is (was) a consulting firm serving the DC area; clients include The Library of Congress, Arlington National Cemetery, The U.S. Department of Agriculture, and a whole slew of DC government organizations. Their self-description reads:

"A MULTI-SERVICES FIRM WHOSE PRINCIPAL STRENGTH IS THE ABILITY TO TAKE THE WORLD’S MOST SOPHISTICATED MANAGEMENT SKILLS AND APPLY THEM IN ORDER TO YIELD ONE CONSISTENT PRODUCT – WORLD-CLASS SERVICES."

Perhaps the folks at Motir could offer some upper-management-level advice regarding the best placement of this ladder (not that Truck 7 needed it).

The fire eventually went to two alarms, and took approximately thirty minutes to control. At one point, there was fire to be found on every one of the four story building, including a large wooden lean-to structure on the roof.

—————

Do you know what the best part was? Nobody cared what we were wearing.

Alright, that's it. I'm finally going to bed.

/RL

Posted by on April 9, 2011 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography, Firefighting Operations, Fires, Major Incidents, News, Raising Ladders Photography

Resolutions.

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It’s a yearly thing that I notice in my gym; right around this time of year, the stations seem to be busier, the cardio room is more crowded, and the wife can never seem to find an open elliptical machine. “What gives?” I always ponder, as I turn away from yet another several-deep line in front of a station. Then it hits me, just like it always does.

Ohhh. New Years resolutions.

I applaud everyone who wants to get “back on track,” as lots of them say. It’s an excellent goal, and I’m happy to help in any way I can. But sadly, I see far too many new, eager faces who disappear sometime around February—replaced by the familiar, down-to-business exchanges and curt smiles of the regulars as we trade benches and barbells.

“Are you finished with this?”

“Sure, it’s all yours.”

—————

Our is a physical job, and as such the need for fitness was drilled into us from Day One. Hell, even before that—we needed to pass a physical agility test just to be considered for recruit school.

Of course, being put through the paces of a fire academy is one thing.

At least nobody forces us to do crazy shit any more, like dragging truck tires all over the place.

I doubt there was a single comrade from class 358 who didn’t leave that (&@$#ing) Tower in some of the best shape of our lives. But we all know what happens afterward.

Not working out for several hours every morning for five days/week

+

Three humongous meals/shift, usually of heavy comfort food

=

BFFs (no, not Best Friends Forever; the other one, Big Fat Firefighters.)

We’re all guilty of it. I personally packed on about 15-17 lbs in less than six months out of the Academy. It happens! But the good news is that it can be reversed, I promise.

It’s not just for looking good. Like I said, ours is a very physical job. Lifting, pulling, crawling, dragging… it’s a good idea to keep up with some form of regular exercise, either at work or outside of it. It’s a benefit not just to you, but also to your coworkers (who may need your help in the worst of circumstances) as well as your family (who of course want you safe and healthy for many years to come).

Is anyone in your respective departments trying to establish a more concrete fitness program? I know of a few firehouses over my way that have done their own version of “The Biggest Loser,” and I’ve heard of others whose crews all make a pact to work out together during their shift. These and many other ideas are all over the web: a quick search for “firefighter fitness” yields over a million results. Kettlebell workouts, simple weight training programs, military cross-training, CrossFit for Public Safety… the list is endless. I was working a trade a while back and on one run, the officer slid the pole just absolutely soaked in sweat. I asked him what the hell he had been doing upstairs, and it turns out he was in the middle of ExtremeFitness’s Insanity Workout. (The name, by the way, is in no way misleading. It’s painful, and you’re a bad mofo if you can make it through all sixty days.)

Amazon.com has plenty of results, too. If you’re more of a book fan, you’ll find plenty of manuals and healthy eating regimens aimed at public safety employees (the food issue, however, is a subject for another post entirely.) For the longest time, one of my favorite resources was a no-nonsense, fact-filled book aimed at police/fire called “Fit for Duty.”

Whether it’s for New Years or not, it’s never too late to put forth some effort into being in better shape. Some guys at work stay in shape, some guys don’t. You can’t change everyone, but the first month of the year is as good a time as any to make a decision for yourself.

Buy a bicycle. Go for a short jog. Even just start walking a few miles per day, a few days a week (you’d be surprised at how quickly your body can respond to just a slight rise in your activity level. If you have a dog, he’ll love it, too.)

Be one of those people who doesn’t fall off the wagon! And maybe I’ll see you around the gym… all the way through December.

Posted by on January 28, 2011 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, EMS Health & Safety, Fire Rescue Topics, Firefighter Safety & Health, Firefighter Training

Some old history for the new year.

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Happy 2011, to all you readers and fellow bloggers alike!

I thought it might be appropriate, even as we venture into the second decade of the third millennium, to share some history that I came across just a few days shy of the New Year.

“Original artwork of Old Engine 15″, © Michael McGurk

Inspired by an image on the cover of the most recent Capital City Firefighter magazine, I re-read the brief history posted online about the DC Fire Department. Specifically, I was scanning for this:

April 15, 1898: Engine Company 15 was placed in service at Washington & Pierce Streets, Anacostia (these streets are now 14th & V Streets S. E. respectively).  Engine 15 went in service with an 1883 Clapp & Jones 450 GPM steam fire engine and an 1889 McDermott Bros. hose reel carriage.

Well, since the street names have changed, what else about the area would have changed? My next step was finding a historic map, circa 1898.

Apparently, the University of Alabama has a serious thing about maps—their archive is quite impressive. I was able to secure three maps that I liked (as always, click for higher resolution):

The first is a portion of a US Army Corps of Engineers map from 1890. Originally drawn to show which parts of the city were damaged by sewage during a flood in June of 1889, this map had the best view of Southeast Washington on the far side of the Anacostia River. And wouldn’t you know it, there’s the intersection of Washington and Pierce Streets. I was, however, unable to find out when the streets changed their names. I suppose Anacostia (or “Uniontown,” as it was called when it was developed as a suburb) didn’t adopt the lettered/numbered street naming system until later—even though it had already been incorporated into the city of Washington by 1878. The second is a whole map from 1895, which is a detailed map of what they called the “main portion” (mostly Northwest) of D.C. This map looks very similar in style to the Rand-McNally maps we still use; even though the hyphenated term is a household name today, this map is so old that William Rand himself was CEO of the company for four more years after this was produced.

The final map is actually dated 1898, and it’s a chunk of an old US Geological Survey map. The streets aren’t written out too well, but I like how the neighborhoods are labeled in relation to one another.

—————

Anyways, I had a good time digging up these pieces of history and I thought some of you might enjoy ‘em. I’m sure there are some old photographs kicking around the firehouse that I could put up, too. We’ll see—I’ll be sure to check during my next shift.

Now, if I could just get my hands on a copy of the highly-desirable “100 Years of Glory…”

Posted by on January 3, 2011 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Nostalgia

Building Walkthroughs: How Thorough Are Yours?

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Last tour, the engine went on a walkthrough of a new building in our second-due area: 2323 Pennsylvania Ave, SE. I humbly offer my writeup of our exploration of the building, and ask that readers contribute their thoughts. What questions would you have asked that I missed? Any other details you’d want to know, reading as an observer? What things would be useful should they put out a box alarm at this address?

—————

The Grays on Pennsylvania is a 5-story, light-weight wood-frame (here’s a picture from the construction) apartment building. The ground floor is a combination of a market/retail space and apartments; floors 2-5 are apartments only. Beneath the building you’ll find two levels of parking, which are accessible from the Delta side of the building (right next to a loading dock for the retail space). From an overhead view, the building resembles a squared-off “U” shape, with each arm of the U terminating in a stairwell.

Upon initial entry (from the alpha/address side from Pennsylvania Avenue), you’ll approach an open octagonal space just past the alarm panel on your left side. From each side of this waiting area, you’ll find the leasing office, weight room, mail room, a bathroom, the elevator core, and a hallway leading to the ground floor apartments.

There are two elevators, which travel from both parking levels all the way to Floor 5 on electronic card access—a leasing office representative said they’d look into getting a card to the nearby companies. There are six apartments on the ground floor and 28 apartments on each of the upper floors, for a total of 118 units. Each of the upper floors are identically laid out; when exiting the elevators, apartments 01-07 are on the right and apartments 08-28 are on the left. Each unit has a full set of appliances (W/D, dishwasher, fridge, stove, etc.)

The two stairwells in the building, marked “A” and “B,” both reach from the lower parking deck all the way to the fifth floor. They are both standpiped on every level, and both offer access to the Charlie side via metal access doors. However, Stairwell B is the only one accessible from the Lobby. The hallway that leads to the six ground-floor units terminates in Stair B, offering immediate access to the rear of the building. Stairwell A is accessed from either the parking garage or the Charlie side.

The center of the “U” is a garden courtyard. After entering a locked gate (located midway between the two rear stairwell doors) and walking through the courtyard, you’ll encounter a door that leads to a a ground-floor maintenance hallway. Within this hallway, you’ll find a small electrical room, a back entrance to the market space, and access to the loading dock/trash area mentioned earlier. The two parking decks are identically laid out underground; one is for tenants, and the other is for patrons of the Yes! Market when it opens in late August. On the lower level—right next to the Stair A access door—you’ll find the main electrical room(s) for the entire building.

Thoughts: As far as laying out, the building is very accessible to hydrants. For first-due, there’s a hydrant located in front of the building. Second-due has a hydrant at Nicholson and Prout, a hydrant on L’Enfant Square directly in front of the car wash, and  back up at Nicholson and Minnesota if those are both OOS for whatever reason. Thinking about a box alarm, it seems like second-due pretty much has the run of the building. If you have an apartment number, then you know which of the rear doors would be wisest to enter. Example: You’re second due, approaching the building. You have fire reported in apartment 424. You’ll know that if you are facing the rear, you’ll find apartments 08-28 are closest to Stair A (on your left as you face the rear of the building). The FDC is near the A-D corner on the Alpha side; instead of running all the way around, or relying on first-due to supply water, the wagon driver could save time by supplying the Stair A standpipe himself via the parking garage/loading dock access while the crew makes entry with racks (it’s only a couple steps away from the C-D corner). So although the Alpha access is limited to the lobby, elevators, and one stairwell, the Charlie side can get you to anywhere in the building with what seems like the least amount of travel.

—————

Thoughts? This is the first one of these I’ve actually written up, so I’m sure I’m missing a whole bunch of stuff. Help me out, and let me know what else I should be looking for!

My hastily scribbled notes while walking.

Posted by on August 2, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Prevention & Education, Fire Rescue Topics, Training & Development

Trench drill; or, playing in the mud for fun and profit.

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One of the unique things about being assigned to Engine 15 is the occasional need to support Rescue Squad 3 in their technical area of expertise: trench and collapse rescue. We’re expected to know more than the average bear about the various tools and concepts within the scope of these topics, and to be able to assist the squad guys with various aspects of each while on the scene of an actual incident.

Sure enough, I found myself back at the Training Academy on a dreary mid-week morning, slogging through the mud and dragging various lengths of lumber around.

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It’s an entirely new set of skills (and a language that goes along with it, to boot) that I have yet to learn. Although from what I saw during this drill, I think it’d be something I would enjoy—hell, I’ve always loved building things, so combine that with some ropes, a bit of math, and a whole boatload of physics? I’d be a happy guy.

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(Haha, you’ll have to forgive the weird vignetting on some of the photographs. I’m using a digital camera from 2004—which makes it electronically ancient—and the shutter leaves over the lens get stuck sometimes. I think it’s kinda cool, actually.)

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Posted by on May 24, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Training & Development, training-fire-rescue-topics

Early morning basement fire.

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I think I’m getting sick… photos only today, with brief captions. All photos © me unless stated otherwise.

/RL

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This was our view on approach as the third-due engine company. E15 brought the 400′ through the front door and backed up first-due E32. Photo uncredited; http://engine15rescue3.com/fullstory.php?107294

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As you can see in the previous picture, the fire/smoke damage extends all the way up the side of the house.

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An exterior close-up. As we examined the front room after the fire had been knocked, we saw that all the exterior bars had been cut except for this one set of white bars, looking like they were installed by the homeowner after the house was completed. Despite the fact that the window was laddered on our arrival, the bars would have made it damn near impossible to use this window for egress had we needed it.

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Interior damage. When we left the scene, there was no official word on what started the fire.

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E19 had a hoseline burst on them while they were operating in the basement. E25 brought another line in to back them up.

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This wasn’t the last of it. The engine and squad stayed busy, running two more fires (one in E30′s area, and another in E27′s area) before the tour was over.

Posted by on May 13, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fires

Recruit Class 362 on the Fire Boat; a quick photo set.

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This past Friday, I was given the distinct pleasure of accompanying Recruit Class 362 to the Fire Boat for their class picture. They seemed excited and appeared in good spirits, seeing as their graduation is just over two weeks away.

(We all remember how that felt, don’t we?)

Long story short, they seem like a great group of recruits and I’m excited to attend their graduation later this month. Keep it up, guys—you’re almost there!

/RL

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As everyone boarded the boat, I heard a voice from somewhere in the crowd: “Huh. I should probably learn how to swim.”

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We couldn’t have asked for a more gorgeous day; I wish we could have stayed out longer!

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The recruits had an admittedly great idea for their photo, so they all piled onto FB 1 and puttered off into the river.


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I, meanwhile, headed out on the water aboard FireBoat 2.

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After a little “umm… more to the left… can he back up some? uh… now can you go forward?”, we finally had it. Many apologies to Blake, the (probably) greatly-annoyed pilot on my boat… photographers can be a real pain in the ass, but he stayed patient with me.

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The end result.

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Many thanks to the instructors for a) letting the recruits out of their cage for a few hours and b) allowing me to come with them.

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(Lastly, in true fire department fashion, what would an attempt at a nice portrait be without a shameless prankster?)

Posted by on May 4, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Academy, Fire Photography

Caught another one…

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1505_19th_st_1smBobo poking his head in and surveying the damage after the fact. Click on the image for full-size.

Expecting another “food on the stove” box alarm or “nothing found” gas leak (like the last two had been, at 2 a.m. and 3:30 a.m., respectively), I grumbled as I peeled off my sweatshirt. My feet stung from running across the bay floor in socks, so I welcomed the feeling of tucking them sleepily into my boots.

“Oh come on… do you see what time it is? Where the hell is our relief?” It had been a long night already, and my question was lost in the wail of the siren as I pulled on my hood and coat.

Next to me, Bobo snapped on his radio and listened to the tactical channel for a minute.

“Basement fire!” He grinned as he turned back to the window, searching outside for smoke or any other indicators that we weren’t running around out here for nothing.

We were assigned to the rear as the second due company, and quickly found ourselves past 19th Street and pulling around the side.  Bobo had laid out the supply line and met me at the wagon; I grabbed a crosslay and turned to find a dizzying array of chain-link fence that blocked my path to the end-unit townhouse with smoke pumping from the concrete basement stairwell.

After three sharp turns and one poorly-hopped groin-level fence (ouch), I was masking up on the stairs as a guy from the Rescue Squad forced the door open. In we went, to find the damned tightest basement—if you could even call it that—I’ve seen yet. Maybe fifteen feet long by about seven or eight feet wide, the packrat of an owner had shoved all sorts of junk on either side of a very narrow walkway. Now imagine some Squad guys and the backstep of an engine company trying to cram into it; maneuvering my hoseline through and around that mess to get water on the fire was quite a process.

Nevertheless, Engine 15 got the knock while Engine 19 held the first floor above us. We hung around while the investigators did their work and Truck 7 did some overhaul, then we picked up and went home.

As I pulled all my stuff off the wagon, I smiled at the guys hauling their gear across the bay floor to relieve us.

Sometimes, late relief can be a good thing. Two fires in four tours—who could complain?

—————

There’s a bit more information available here at E15/RS3′s website; you’ll notice that the second picture is one of mine. I’ve added a few more below.

1505_19th_st_4smThis 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.


1505_19th_st_3smThe 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.


1505_19th_st_2smCoconuts! (There were some really random items in here.)


Posted by on April 14, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Fires

Two tours, one fire.

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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.”

rl_4-5-10-102

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.

rl_4-5-10-101_smThe 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.”

Posted by on April 6, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Fires, Probation

Obstacle courses; also, my farewell to The Farm.

4 comments

RLP_E26
“Shit. Uh, Sarge? There’s no stairs back here.”

We were second due on a reported basement fire, and we had seen smoke as we pulled up. The wagon had come through one of the legs in an H-shaped alley, and the house was dead smack in the middle of the crossbar. We grabbed the 400′ and took off, Sgt. McAllister yelling his unique brand of high-volume inspirational messages behind me.

With a hundred feet of hose on our shoulders, we stopped dead as we turned to look towards the house. In front of us stood a seven-foot cinderblock wall, blocking the backyard. The officer reached for his radio and snapped off a quick transmission:

“Truck, we need some ground ladders back here to gain access to the rear.”

We could see Truck 11 already starting towards us with ladders from the other end of the alley; the few moments it took them to throw it felt like forever, especially when silhouetted by the smoke we could see emptying into the sky.

Still trying to keep the hose piled on my shoulder in a reasonably-organized bundle, I climbed up the ladder and side-stepped onto the top of the wall.

“There’s a bit of a drop here…”

The jump to reach the grass on the other side didn’t look like much; however, I’m not much of an Olympian in shorts and track shoes, much less with all my gear and a hoseline. I didn’t have much time to think about the whole process… better to throw myself into oblivion than have my officer pissed at me for holding up progress.

Whump!

One muffled thud and a sharply-uttered curse later, I found myself on the ground. The scramble up the grass was slow going (it was steep as hell; how do you even get a lawnmower on an angle like that?) but we would have had a bear of a time gaining access to the basement regardless of our situation; every window and door was barred, and there wasn’t a saw in sight. The truck was laddering and ventilating upper-level, non-barred windows, and we heard another company getting a knock on the fire. Less than a minute later, the tillerman came around and cut the bars for us, but it was too late.

As it turned out, the building layout was such that the “basement” was just slightly lower than the two stories visible in the front, and the first-due company was able to make their way to the fire without much difficulty. We, however, simply had to pick up and go home.

(I almost took a spill going back over the wall to bring the hose back. Note to self: if a ladder is bridging a gap between elevated ground and the top of a wall, don’t step on the side of the ladder that’s past the wall—yes, I’m a dumbass. I think the officer on E22 was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see the rookie do something hilariously stupid…)

—————

It appears that my time in the 1st Battalion has come to an end. Last week, I was transferred to E15 in Anacostia (where I did my mentoring several months ago), and my first shift is on Sunday.

Through good times and bad, I learned a lot from the guys at Engine 26 and Truck 15; I wish you all the best and I’m certain I’ll see many of you again. Take care, and be safe.

/RL

P.S. – I still owe you all a probation dinner—you didn’t think I was just gonna skip out on that, did ya?

RLP_E15

Posted by on March 25, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Personal, Uncategorized

Demotivational Posters, among other things.

1 comment

wfd_1

I’ve been gearing up for Ireland and redesigning RaisingLaddersPhotography.com, so I haven’t had much time for writing lately.

I do, however, have a few gems that I made a while back tucked away for just this occasion—enjoy the photos!

They’re quite the throwback to Academy days—a strange mixture, but I think that’s what makes them fun. You’ll find the remainder of them in a new gallery here. Some of the images contain explicit language, so be forewarned.

/RL

wfd_2

P.S. – the two above photos were from an early morning fire in the 1300 block of Trinidad Ave; E10 held the fire at the stairs, while E8 (second-due) got the knock on the basement fire. WUSA9 has a quick tidbit here about the fire.

CONSISTENCY_smOh, 358. We were… interesting.

Enjoy the rest of the posters.

Posted by on February 18, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Fires

I used to like snow. Really, I did.

2 comments

e9_smImage © muohace_dc

I used to like playing in the snow, stomping through it… snowball fights, snow angels, the whole nine wintery yards.

But after working in all this?

I’m kicking the head right off of the next snowman I see (and see them I will, because it’s dumping snow right now and I’m working tomorrow).

So many streets were impassable, even with snow chains. Many of our calls involved parking the engine and ambulance way down the block and hiking our equipment through the streets to get to the patient’s house—which may or may not offer us a shoveled walkway for access.

snowdrift_smImage © meischc

I lost count of how many times we had to dig the ambulance out. The engine became stuck a few times, too—and without fail, as soon as we dig ourselves out, here comes a shout from down the street: “Hey, can you guys come give us a hand?”

Why you’re out here at this ungodly hour of the night, trying to make headway on an unplowed street in a little-ass sedan, I have no idea. But never mind that, intelligent citizen. We’d be happy to assist you in your time of need. *grumble*

spo_smImage © theqspeaks

A few funny moments:

  • Walking back down the street—carrying the med bag, cardiac monitor, and O2 bottle—I slipped and landed, cartoon-style, right on my ass (I only wish the oxygen bottle hadn’t fallen between my legs at that exact instant). A few concerned folks who were out shoveling their sidewalks sharply stifled their laughter and asked if I was okay. Ah, everything’s okay here; my pride broke my fall.
  • Warning: not all packed snow is as sturdy as you might think. Standing on what used to be a sidewalk, I was asking questions to a patient outside. Suddenly, I found myself three feet lower than I was before. I’m sure it was quite comical (including my awkward climb out of the thigh-deep snow): “So sir, how long have you been FOOOM—uh, dammit.”
  • “Hey rookie! Why don’t you climb up front and see how the engine handles in the snow.” Shit. As I hauled myself into the driver’s seat, I experienced a horrible recurring dream that always ended with me typing a very long letter: “Dear Fire Chief…”
  • Calls delayed dinner until 8pm; calls further delayed my cleaning duties, such that I was still mopping at midnight. (Being a rookie; ain’t it grand??)
  • 1:30 a.m. – “Ma’am, how long have you been experiencing this headache?”   “Since July.”
  • 4:20 a.m. – resetting a fire alarm at a large garbage facility, slogging through (what I hope was) water as we contemplated what time our relief would arrive.

I folded up my sheets and pillow at 4:45 a.m., having not even climbed into bed once.

e16_smImage © triotriotrio

—————

As far as keeping up with changing weather conditions, Twitter can prove extremely useful.

DC Fire/EMS (@dcfireems):

DC Dept. of Transportation (@DDOTDC):

Maryland State Hwy Administration (@MDSHA):

They’re perfect for mobile updates, so you can keep updated whether you’re out and about or stuck inside.

I’ll be out there tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to another fun-filled tour on the Northeast streets…

Stay safe, everyone.

/RL

Posted by on February 10, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFEMS, Fire Photography

Finally, a first-due job… and a pretty good one, at that.

7 comments

photo-2Our wagon driver’s voice came from the front of the cab, punching through the audible mess of sirens and air horns as we screamed a left out of the firehouse.

“It’s off! This one’s off!”

The other back step guy and I looked at each other.

What?

We just left the firehouse…

…we’re nowhere near the address…

…do you see… I don’t… there’s no smoke in the sky…

…nobody’s said anything on the radio…

Nevertheless, as our brains struggled with how in the hell he knew that, we simultaneously reached back to turn our SCBA bottles on. Wayne may joke about many things, but this is not one of them. (Incredibly, he would tell us later that he knew about the fire so far in advance because of a “different cloud pattern”—his words, not mine—in the sky towards where the call was.)

We double-checked our gear, and I tightened the last of my harness straps as we made the turn onto 25th Place.

photo-1First thought: Ohhhhh yes.

Second thought: Hey dumbass! Quit staring… you have stuff to do.

As I laid out the supply hose and the wagon took off, I saw bright red paint disappear into a haze that enveloped the block. I ran to catch up to the rest of my crew, and I saw that the lineman was already masking up at the front door. I dropped to put my mask on, made sure his hose was flaked out well enough behind him, and headed inside.

What in the name of… Christmas?

Trampling through the living room and working our way towards the stairs, we found ourselves walking over an unbelievable amount of Christmas decorations. Reindeer, nutcrackers of varying sizes, tinsel, rope lights, string lights, extension cords, wrapping paper… anything you can think of, it was in our way (yes, that is Santa and his sleigh in the first picture).

The first floor had a little bit of fire going in the bathroom and kitchen (to our left and right off the small hallway, respectively). My lineman whipped the nozzle around in each room as I fed him more and more line to advance. Our ultimate goal laid in getting up the stairs to the second floor, so we knocked the first floor fairly quickly and prepared to go upstairs.

There was only one problem, which I had been warned of in the Academy (I can still hear VanHagen’s voice): “…yeah, you might have a minute or two to do your own thing, but just know that pretty soon you’re going to have about twenty other [expletive]ers coming right up your ass. If you’ve got something, it’s gonna get real crowded—real fast.”

And such was certainly the case. The third due engine company hoping to steal our fire with their own hoseline; the rescue squad trying to muscle past us to do a search…

God only knows who else was crammed in that hallway, but there wasn’t a whole lot of room to move. To top it off, it felt like every person behind us was standing on our damned hose—an unfortunate reality of being in a narrow hallway. After some pulling, some shoving, and a good deal of yelling, we had finally freed up enough line to make it up the stairs (which were rapidly turning into the world’s nastiest Slip-n-Slide made of soot, water, and melted plastic Christmas crap).photo-3

At the top of the stairs, Truck 15′s bar man was hooking the walls in front of me, and my lineman was working his way around to the left. We could see the orange glow just past the landing, and we wanted nothing more than to get in there and hit it. A few minor fires jumped up around us, sometimes beside us, sometimes behind us. George was smashing walls with his halligan bar and finding little pockets of fire; each one we extinguished put us closer and closer to the seat of the fire, as we moved inch by inch. The second floor was fully involved, and we approached the middle of the room to find the entire ceiling glowing. I sidled up beside Tate, anchoring the hose with my body so he wouldn’t have to fight as hard against the nozzle pressure. He knocked down the left side of the room, and was even nice enough to give me a minute or two on the line to knock down the right side—seeing as it was the first real house fire both of us had ever had, I was pretty damned appreciative (much to my chagrin, however, he was sure to snatch the nozzle back real quick. It was, after all, mostly his fire).

We heard the truck working around us, their saws opening up the roof and their hooks breaking out the windows. The smoke that had once surrounded us with a soupy blackness transformed into a thinner gray, and began to clear out.

And just like that, most of it was gone. We were ordered to be relieved by another company—and were running low on air anyways—so we made our way down the stairs and outside as the next engine sprayed down what little licks of fire were left.

photo-6Outside, we all peeled our masks off. Our coats were steaming, our faces were sweating, and our gear was fully soaked with dirty water.

But we had done it.

Engine 26 had fought the beast, and we won—and we had a kick-ass time doing it, too.

We cleared that call several hours later—after the inevitable and exhausting overhaul work of tearing stuff up, shoveling it into buckets, and piling it in the front yard—with soot on our faces and pride in our hearts.

Sounds corny, doesn’t it? Well, it’s true. The two of us spent the rest of that tour smiling, having finally done something that many people only dream of as a small child in a Halloween costume. Anyone older and more jaded experienced than I will probably say I’m just a young excited kid, still wet behind the ears and with much to learn—and they’re absolutely right. I’m still far too young on this job to know my ass from my elbow, but I’m having way too much fun for anyone to damper my spirits.

photo-5Say what you will, gentlemen—critique to your heart’s content, if you wish. But remember that you, too, had a first fire. It may not have been perfect, it may not have been a big story in the local paper. But it was yours, and it was your first.

I’ve got some great guys around to teach me and plenty of time for them to do so; for now, congratulations—here’s to Engine 26 gettin’ it done!

Proudly,

/RL

P.S. – My apologies to the big dude from Truck 6. Give me a call and I’ll buy you a beer.

Image © available upon request, used with permission.

Posted by on January 25, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Fires

Recruit Class 360: congratulations, and good luck! (w/pictures)

3 comments

Happy New Year! Yes, I haven’t put up a new post since last year, but there were several factors that led to this:

  1. I wanted to leave the Nikon Festival instructions up for a while, so visitors could make sure to see them (be sure to vote if you haven’t already, and tell your friends/coworkers about it!);
  2. I’ve been keeping busy by helping a recently-graduated recruit class with photography;
  3. I wanted to finish processing all the photos before I posted any of them here.

Anyways, most of that is boring stuff you don’t care about. Let’s get to the pictures!

Some context: Recruit Class 360 invited me along on a special tour (i.e. not the one that the general public gets) tour of the Capitol Building, so the first four photos are a few shots from our chilly winter trek to downtown D.C. They also took one of their official class photos there.

They liked my work, so they asked me to come along to their graduation on December 31st, in which public speaker and Pro Football Hall-of-Famer John Riggins was the guest of honor—the remaining photos are some of my favorite frames from the ceremony.

RTC_360_small (1 of 24) 600 test

RTC_360_small (3 of 24)

RTC_360_small (8 of 24)

RTC_360_small (16 of 24)

RTC_360_small (10 of 24)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (1 of 39)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (9 of 39)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (10 of 39)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (26 of 39)

Mayor Adrian Fenty stopped by to deliver his remarks, and then shook the hand of each member of 360.

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (7 of 39)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (15 of 39)

Mr. Riggins was given a ceremonial helmet, signed by the recruits from 360, as well as a new pair of boots for working around his farm.

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (20 of 39)

RTC_360_Graduation_sm (38 of 39)

This last frame is my personal favorite from the entire day. Mr. Riggins’ daughter was present at the ceremony with him, and I caught her just as she was trying on Dad’s new helmet.

The full sets of both the Capitol Tour and the Graduation are available through my other site, RaisingLaddersPhotography; there, you’ll find all of these pictures and more, plus all the “hold your certificate and grin at the camera” shots that are inevitable at any ceremony. They’re cheesy but necessary—tell your mother to buy a few!

Just a quick note: All of my photos are my exclusive property, and should not be used, printed, or displayed without my express permission… *ahem*  Engine 6 / Truck 4, I’m looking at you! (source). I’d be more than happy to agree to the use of my photos, I just want to know if you’re doing it.

All the best to the new Probationers from Recruit Class 360; one of them is coming to E26 on the shift after me, so I’ll be seeing him more than a few times; to the rest of you, thank you for the wonderful opportunities to be a part of your graduation. Take care, and good luck!

/RL

Posted by on January 4, 2010 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Academy, Fire Photography, News, Uncategorized

Engine 26 is (almost) famous… again!

1 comment

Damn, first we’re in a (most excellent) short film, and now a TV show! Well, almost.

20091217-DSC_0368-159

Thursday evening, a film crew came by the firehouse to shoot a segment for Extreme Forensics, a show on the Discovery Channel. The subject matter was D.C. area arsonist, Thomas A. Sweatt, who started a wave of fires several years ago in Maryland and the District. One of the 37 fires he admitted to was a two-alarm in June of 2003, in which an 86-year-old woman lost her life.

Extreme Forensics, realizing that E-26 had responded to that particular location on Evarts St, NE, showed up and asked if some of the guys who were actually on that fire could re-create a bit of the action—you know, run to the engine, put on boots, jump in, pull out with the lights and sirens going.

Wait a minute. Does some of that scene sound familiar to you?

(Yeah, the guys were a lot more amenable to following their directions than mine… damn this red tag! Hey, I got it done under more extreme circumstances. There were more than a few “creative directions” that ended up on my cutting room floor…)

20091217-DSC_0384-175

I can only assume from watching those forensic shows that the footage will be either heavily vignetted/put in black-and-white (so the audience knows it happened in the past); slowed by about 50% (to add dramatic tension); and given an over-the-top voiceover by a man with a pleasing baritone voice.

It won’t air until next year, but supposedly the production company will provide us with a copy of the episode.

What’s next?

Posted by on December 19, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, Fire Photography, Fires

The Gauntlet.

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"You should stop…"

I froze in place, realizing for the first time how sweaty I had grown in only a few minutes in gear.

"…drop…"

I crumpled to the ground, covering my face and bashing my knuckles in the process. Come on… stage training be damned—why commit to a fall when they probably don't care how it looks anyways?

"…and roll!"

I could barely contain my laughter as my world went alternately bright and then dark, bright and then dark. The ecstatic squeals and shouts of first-graders were all around me as I flopped around, probably looking for all the world like a big tan fish rimmed in Scotch-Brite.

Yes, it was time for the elementary school kids to meet their Friendly Neighborhood Fireman!

Gijoe Don't play with matches, don't use the stove, ask your parents if you have a smoke detector… 

I had to seriously stop myself from quoting a childhood hero: "Now you know. And knowing is half the battle!"

Demonstrations for elementary schools seem to be pretty common in the Department; the only unfortunate part is that it usually falls to the rookie to demonstrate the finer points of, well, everything.

"How quickly can you get dressed?" Uh, let me go get my gear, and I'll show you!

"What's the stuff on top of the fire truck?" Give me a second to climb up there, and I'll show you!

"How do I call 9-1-1?" Well…

The kids really seem to enjoy having us come by their school; it's really not all that bad unless the children turn violent. And I don't mean playful-violent. I mean full-on, someone-call-a-priest, Children-of-the-Corn violent.

Photo

The Gauntlet.

We try to teach children not to be afraid of us in gear. Admittedly, with our helmets, masks, gloves, air cylinder, and Darth Vader voice, we do tend to frighten the little ones (we always get a few at every school who hide behind the teacher). However, when the children are encouraged to approach and see us up close, one of them always gets a little adventurous. This "fun" spreads like wildfire, and before I know it, I feel like Mickey Mouse on a bad day at Disney World.

Once, I had a child raise his hand not three feet in front of me. In his calmest voice, he asked his teacher: "Can we slap the fireman?"

That was not a good day.

Nevertheless, it's a pretty rewarding experience. From showing them the inside of the engine, to making sure to give the siren a little extra juice when we (inevitably) have to go on a run, they love every second of our show-and-tell.

I may have felt like an idiot while I crawled around on a sidewalk, or been embarrassed by getting bowled over by a bunch of sugared-up six-year-olds…

Photo-1

…but it's totally worth it.

Posted by on October 9, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS

National Fallen Firefighter’s Memorial – Live Streaming Feed!

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DSC_0846-2

For anyone who is unable to physically attend the memorial ceremonies in Emmitsburg, MD this weekend, Firehouse.com is offering live streaming coverage of both the candlelit vigil Saturday night and the ceremony on Sunday. 

More information is available at the link above, or at STATter911.

Posted by on October 2, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Department Current Affairs, Fire Photography

The first probation test.

2 comments

"Rookie! It's tiiiime!"

Punctuated by the sound of the door being kicked open, Sarge strode out of the officer's quarters with a grin on his face and a taunting inflection in his voice. He was covering for my usual officer that day, and what a special day it was: time for my first ("sixth-month") probation test with the Battalion Chief.

I had been studying all morning, reviewing and memorizing the questions I had researched for the past month. There's a little over seventy of them, and—despite advice to the contrary—I couldn't help but pore over the answers again and again, as if desperately trying to catch some token of knowledge I missed in the first thousand times I read them. I climbed into the wagon, forcing myself to stare out the window instead of at the papers piled on the seat beside me. I mean, what's the point? If you don't have it by now, you don't have it at all.

The office of the Chief for the First Battalion is located on the upper level of Engine 12. As we pulled around the back, the other guy on the engine tried to calm my nerves: "Damn, it kinda looks like a prison. And the warden is waiting for you upstairs!"

Thanks, good pep talk.

He laughed. I didn't. With its drab concrete walls and tightly-barred windows, he wasn't far off.

Image © http://www.dcfd.com
I had difficulty hearing anything but actor Bob Gunton's voice in my head as I slowly climbed the fluorescent-lit stairway.

Warden2



"Put your trust in the Lord… 

your ass belongs to me. 

Welcome to Shawshank."





Fortunately, I was granted my freedom a few hours later (we were still in service the whole time, so I had to run a handful of medical calls in the middle of it. Eventually the nervousness gave way to mental exhaustion right before the test was over). It wasn't nearly as bad as I was making it out to be, but again: all this stuff is new to me, and I'm just trying hard not to %@*$ anything up too badly. It's a little nerve-wracking to sit one-on-one with a Battalion Chief, but thankfully he was very fair, as well as open to discussion if I didn't understand something fully. 

Well, the first one's over. Unfortunately, there really isn't any rest for the weary; now it's back to the books for the seventh-month questions!
Posted by on September 30, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Firefighter Training

Random thoughts from last tour.

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DSC_6139 small

Don't stick your head too far out the window to look at stuff when driving around—while wagon drivers are quite adept at avoiding obstacles, tree branches don't really count.

—————

Chicken gravy is a rather unprofessional thing to find splattered on your pants as you pull up to a medical call. It's even worse to reach in your pocket for gloves and find an actual piece of chicken.

—————

When you encounter someone who clearly blows you off/ignores you when you make an effort to introduce yourself (simply because you're a rookie), the very next person you meet will give you hell for not introducing yourself.

—————

Corrollary to the above: You can't win—but try anyways.

—————

It's great fun to look through a Fire Department yearbook (if that's what it is; it's a similar layout) from thirteen years ago and look up your current instructors/officers/chiefs. There's some wonderful history to be found… and some excellent mid-nineties haircuts.*

—————

If you sleep late in the bunkroom after you've been relieved, you may or may not be awakened by an air horn and a strip of firecrackers thrown in the door like a SWAT-team's flashbang grenades. I, uh… heard about that happening once. In a magazine. Yeah, it was in a magazine.

—————

I wasn't aware that they sell pink tank tops with "FLIRTY SEXY SPOILED GIRL" written in glitter… in XXL sizes.


/RL


*It's not mine, so I'm trying to grab a few snapshots. Trust me, I want the pictures, too.
Posted by on September 22, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography, Firehouse Life

Expectations.

2 comments

"Holy shit—she's having a baby!"


I couldn't help but laugh; what is this, a bad movie? Get me some towels and hot water! And ring Doctor Swanson, immediately! 

The way-too-excited MPD officer went sprinting past me; admittedly, I was a bit weighed down with the medical bags, but even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be barreling full-speed down the sidewalk.

I approached the gathering crowd, dropping the bags next to the blurry figure that I assumed to be my patient. I rubbed the 5 a.m. sleep out of my eyes; slowly, the shape in front of me materialized into a twenty-year-old girl, writhing on the ground.

She was on her third pregnancy, with her due date exactly one month from now. Contractions were approximately one minute apart, lasting about one or two minutes each. (Um, this may be getting… complicated soon. Time to go.) I didn't need to be showing off all her business in front of God and creation, so we placed her in the ambulance as fast as we could. After a quick set of vitals and a cursory examination, we were off.

The radio report was quick: age, due date, vitals, no crowning or broken water yet. Seeya in five.

All the way to the hospital and into the OB ward, she kept time like a metronome. Every minute, her body would tense up, followed shortly thereafter by a pained look of exhaustion. The elevator doors opened, and I'm sure that the look of relief on my face was evident to the OB nurses standing down the hall—the last thing I wanted was for three people to get in the elevator, and have three-and-a-half come out. 

My relief quickly turned to surprise when instead of moving to get us into a room, the nurses ambled over with knowing looks on their faces. One marched right up (munching on Skittles, I think) and began scolding the patient.

"R————, are you serious? Again?"

The patient answered with her face shoved into the pad of the stretcher, her awkward positioning and constant movement making her end of the conversation barely intelligible.

"No, this time it's real, I swear! I hurt, real bad!"

"You've been smoking that rock again, haven't you?" It was phrased as a question, but we all knew that it wasn't.

The patient denied it several times, but to no avail. All of a sudden she went limp, the signs of her pain and obstetrical discomfort vanishing before my eyes. She resigned herself to rolling onto her back and scratching her very pregnant belly, as she half-listened to the continued berating from the head nurse. Her expression of anguish was now replaced with a bored look as she asked for pain meds. 

"My stomach really does hurt pretty bad, um… just not right now. Can I have some stuff to take home, in case it hurts later?"

Dammit… I've been had.

—————

"Yeah, I think we ran her about a month ago. Before you came here. She was just like that, too."

I looked over at my partner drearily as we made up the stretcher for the last time. Normally I would have been mad, but I was just too tired to care.

"That might have helped me identify her as a crack-addicted faker, instead of a woman who was actually having a baby."

"Yeah, I guess so. My bad, dude." The last sentence was thrown over his shoulder as he wheeled the cot out to the ambulance.

Finally given a moment's reprieve, I flopped down into the nearest chair. I yawned and looked around the ER, thinking of everything I had brought here in the past twenty-four hours.

Let's see… over there was the middle-aged guy whose heart rate was around 220. He was maintaining surprisingly well, nonchalantly telling me that he had gone into cardiac arrest "a coupla times" in the past year. 

Somewhere down that hallway was the best place to isolate the young girl on PCP. Not only was she strong as hell (fighting off two security guards, two firefighters, and a nurse all by herself), but she kept screaming requests for Jesus to do unspeakable sexual things to her. It was, as the TV shows say, explicit language.

My eyes trailed over to the hallway beds. Looking at the clean, fresh sheets, I remembered the old man who we had placed there. There wasn't actually anything wrong with him; he was just too old to make it to the bathroom sometimes, and he had soiled himself earlier in the day. Instead of helping him, his family decided that they wanted him a) out of the house for a while and b) to be cleaned by someone else. 

So they called us. Without so much as a word, the family had slammed the door on us within seconds of carrying their father outside. The hospital staff told me that he stayed there for more than a few hours, because it was a huge process to get one of his family members to come pick him up. Apparently, it was "way too soon," and "too much of an inconvenience."

—————

The cold air caused me to inhale sharply as soon as the outer doors whooshed open. The tripsheet was completed; the ambulance was clean; and shift change was nearing. My eyelids felt about as heavy as my boots, and I poured myself into the front seat of the ambulance.

"Hey, man! Close that, it's too damn cold out."

I took one last refreshing breath of the wind whipping through the window and obliged. I sank back into my seat, and dozed off as the sun came up over Northeast D.C. 

It's not always easy, and it's not always fun… but at least it's never boring.
Posted by on September 18, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fires/Incidents

The Farm: a brief introduction.

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"Weren't you guys trying to grow something out here a while back?"

The wagon driver turned from the engine's pump panel and rubbed a thoughtful hand on his chin.

"Yeah, we had tried growing corn out back of the firehouse… don't think it worked, though."

As he turned back to the engine, I couldn't seem to restrain the incredulous smile that played at my lips.

Where in the hell did they assign me?

—————
Cleanpatch1

Several shifts back, I received orders from on high that I was to report to my permanent assignment. So, I said goodbye to Southeast D.C. and ventured northward to a station colloquially known as "The Farm."


(And yes, that is in fact Foghorn Leghorn on the patch.)

Engine 26 is located in Northeast Washington, in a neighborhood called Brentwood. I can't speak much for the area—since I'm still just barely learning how to get around—but it seems like a pretty standard layout; some nice stuff, some ghetto stuff, and a whole bunch of high-potential-to-burn-to-the-ground stuff.

I'm never certain what to expect in a new house, so I try to keep quiet and let more senior firefighters (read: everyone who's not me) be the first to say anything; in the case of certain guys, they're the first to say everything. Much to my relief, the crew has proved to be significantly more pleasant than I expected. In addition to Engine 26, "The Farm" is also the quarters of Truck 15. All together, the two crews have been acting as very helpful resources for the wonderful chunk of my life known as my probationary period. 

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Luckily, the guys at E15 were nice enough to give me a heads up about being a "probie," so I had no trouble falling into the "hey rookie, make the coffee, answer the phones, put the flag up" routine. 

Now, I just have to weather the probationary questions and official tests—two of which will be administered by the First Battalion Chief. 


Monthly tests… learning the local alarm area… remembering EMS protocols (why did I become a paramedic again?)… completing computerized trip sheets… cleaning up… 

Some days my head spins. Everyone says that this little whirlwind will all be over soon; I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I do know this: it's one hell of a way to keep busy. 

Study hard, rookie. Study hard.

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Posted by on September 9, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography

Honoring our brothers in Buffalo.

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The walkway at the National Fallen Firefighter's Memorial. It's paved with inscriptions about our nation's bravest, donated by their loved ones. The post I wrote many months ago still rings true, and I feel a twinge in my heart when I think about how much this memorial site means to so many people.

This weekend, I was at the Academy for a two-day training class. While I was there, I found out that the three recruit classes currently at the school all traveled up to Buffalo, NY to honor the two firefighters who died in a structure fire last Monday. I'm not sure when they arrived back home, but I wanted to offer some recognition for their display of support and brotherhood. 


You never know when or where a tragedy like this will strike, but it's good to know that fellow comrades across the nation are willing to help. 

A heartfelt thank-you is in order to Recruit Classes 359, 360, and 361; may the two fallen firefighters of the Buffalo Fire Department rest in peace, and may their families be taken care of in their time of need.

Incidentally, the city of Buffalo pushed back their annual Wing Festival in their honor; the festival was now slated to begin today, and donations at the event will go to aiding the families of Lt. Charles "Chip" McCarthy and Firefighter Jonathan Croom. 

Please see the Buffalo IAFF 232 website for more information on how you can donate money to the fund by check or by buying a BFD memorial t-shirt.

Posted by on September 2, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Academy, Fire Department Current Affairs, Fire Photography, Fires/Incidents

Shadows.

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"St. E's for the building!"


Chairs went flying back from the table, miraculously not getting in the way of any of the large guys sprinting towards a single door. Like some bizarre, mustachioed and beer-gutted ballet, dancers in black boots weaved their way around any and all obstacles on the way to the apparatus bay. 

Before our forks could settle where they were thrown onto the table, the kitchen was empty. 

—————

"Man… some bullshit again."

The run had turned out to be routinely boring, with a small mattress fire on an upper floor that (I believe*) the staff had extinguished themselves. As second-due, Engine 15 had pulled our 400' line up through a rear stairwell, and we were busy re-racking the line when I heard a commotion from above.

At first it was just one figure. A single fuzzy outline, with his arms outstretched above his head. 

Then the banging on the glass started, and another blurry shape joined him. 

As if from a bad zombie movie, more and more figures began showing up at the third-floor window. The only clear outlines against the frosted glass were their hands, pressed up firmly to the surface. The rest of their shapes blended backwards into a mess of limbs, indistinguishable from the other bodies crowded around them.

The illustrious inmates of St. Elizabeth's Mental Hospital were officially awake—and judging from the cacophony resonating off the window, they were not happy about the lights and sirens that woke them. 

"Uh-oh. They're up. They're going to be calling all night long." 

"Yeah… but at least it's 25's area."

I wish I had a picture of it. It would have been perfect for a horror movie poster.



*This happened a few tours ago, and I was thinking about it today. I don't recall the details perfectly, so forgive me if something's a little off.
Posted by on August 18, 2009 • Filed under: DC Fire, DCFD, DCFEMS, Fires/Incidents