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.

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.

—————

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.

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

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.

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…”

—————

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.

]]> http://raisingladders.com/2010/08/building-walkthroughs-how-thorough-are-yours/feed/ 2 http://raisingladders.com/2010/05/trench-drill-or-playing-in-the-mud-for-fun-and-profit/ http://raisingladders.com/2010/05/trench-drill-or-playing-in-the-mud-for-fun-and-profit/#comments Mon, 24 May 2010 21:40:28 +0000 raisingladders http://raisingladders.com/?p=615

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.

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.

(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.)

/RL

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The end result.

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.

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

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.

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.)

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