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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

Excessive habits.

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*Note: Patient is stated to be 350LB*

Ugh. The text glowed white on a black background, eliciting inward consternation and outward groans for my partner and myself.

As Medic 19 lumbered up Georgia Avenue, I clicked "enroute" on the computer and flipped it closed. We had been fitfully trying to get back for lunch, but no such luck today. Any day on an ambulance, really. Far out of our response area, we headed north to find what awaited us on Shepherd Street.

Jay (as we'll call him) was seated completely naked on the floor of the basement he lived in, surrounded by the sparsity of a man whose sole obsession is certainly not furnishing his living quarters. Instead, Jay's room accessories consisted of a TV, a high-backed rolling office chair parked in front of it, and six or eight of the 50-count DVD towers full of porn.

(Oh, and there was a small coffee table; the one square foot of it what was not covered in porn had amassed a collection of chinese food containers, stacked twenty or thirty high.)

There was porn on the walls, there was porn kicked under the bed, there was porn still in unmarked brown mailing boxes, waiting to be unwrapped. Porn playing cards had apparently fallen over quite some time ago and were left to lie about; the few of them that remained visible offered a stark and explicit punctuation to the collection of dirty towels and clothes on the floor.

Taking a history and obtaining vitals was a surreal sort of moment, surrounded by every manner of pornographic material. Apparently the southwest corner of the room was the blacks-on-blondes fodder; yet another DVD tower specialized only in group social functions of staggering proportions.

Side note: I wasn't aware that they even made Innocent Until Proven Filthy 13, much less the first twelve that were neatly organized above it in the rack. Others were far more blunt (and thus unprintable here).

—————

According to Jay, he had come home from lunch and needed to go to the bathroom; shortly thereafter, he sat down on his chair, became dizzy, and slid to the floor.

Sir, at what point between sitting in this chair and sitting on the floor did your clothes spontaneously fly off?

(I couldn't bring myself to ask.)

Physiologically, everything checked out. He was a touch confused, but not in a stroke kind of way. More of a "uh, why did I pass out naked and who are these people in my house?" kind of way. His vitals were great, but we all agreed that he should be transported to the hospital anyways; his obesity had led him down the road to a number of chronic medical conditions, and it was impossible for us to rule out the etiology of his syncopal episode.

(If you ask me, the only chronic thing he's suffering from is a… *ahem* protein deficiency.)

The TV was blaring the entire time we were there. Surprisingly, it wasn't porn. Instead, the classic Guess Who's Coming To Dinner added to the general absurdity of the room. Sidney Poitier's soothing baritone rang out through the TV as we wheeled Jay out the door and into the ambulance.

—————

"Did you see my movies?"

"Hmm?" I looked up distractedly from the tablet computer where I was entering his most recent set of vital signs.

"Did you see all of my movies?"

There was a hint of pride in his voice, and I was only half-surprised that his first cogent sentence was about his pile 'o porn.

"Uh, yeah. That's… quite a collection you have there."

"Aw, that's not that much. It's pretty small right there, but I have more somewhere else."

My mind reeled at the thought of Jay's U-Stor-It unit somewhere nearby. He would fling the rolling door up with a great flourish to reveal another collection of unimaginable quantity; and like Scrooge McDuck, he would jump in and laugh as he swam amongst the DVDs piled inside his vault.

I snapped back to reality as I realized he was listing off names, seeking my approval for various titles and actresses.

"Gianna Michaels, she's pretty good… The Lesbian Truth or Dare series? I like Alexis Texas, too…"

He drifted off into his own thoughts, and I left it at that.

Posted by on June 30, 2011 • Filed under: DCFD, DCFEMS, EMS Topics

“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.

—————

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

Andy Fredericks Training Days – Updated!

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The first day of the Andy Fredericks Training Days was a great success! The largest group ever to attend the annual three-day conference arrived at the communal breakfast buzzing with energy and brotherhood despite the early hour. As promised, the events kicked off right around 8am with some very touching opening remarks from several firefighters who knew Andy personally. From his hilarious antics around the firehouse, to his steadfast dedication to the job, the crowd was reminded of the sort of fellow he was—especially, why he would have been overjoyed to see everyone here learning these topics he held so dear. "Andy in a nutshell" was presented to us via a speech he made at FDIC in 2000, revealing his traditional, bread-and-butter approach to firefighting that he sought to inspire in everyone he met.

—————

Carrying a rich history of America's earliest presidents and great thinkers, the George Washington Masonic Memorial in Alexandria, VA, provided a gorgeous venue for the event. Groundbreaking for this memorial took place in 1922—stoneworkers completed the structure ten years later, undeterred by the Great Depression.

 

Presenting to the largest group ever to attend the event, organizers and speakers were happy to see so many hands go up when the crowd was asked who among them is a "first timer."

 

The opening presentation was provided by Robert Morris, the current Captain of FDNY's Rescue Company 1 (located in midtown Manhattan). A true veteran, and lifelong student of the fire service, Captain Morris has been one of New York's Bravest for over thirty years.

 

All firefighters are taught that a Halligan bar is one of the most useful and versatile tools in the fire service; however, a morning spent listening to an instructor with decades of first-hand experience provides a new respect for a tool that many new firefighters are never taught to use properly.

"When I started in the fire department, we didn't have fancy hydraulic tools or these new gadgets. All we had was an axe and a halligan bar, so we were taught how to make it work. When the Rabbit Tool [a hydraulic forcible entry tool] showed up, it pushed forcible entry training back by, I don't know, ten years. Guys were coming on with no knowledge of how to use the irons, because they thought they didn't need to."

 

As Captain Morris clearly shows, even verbally teaching forcible entry tactics is not a stationary activity.

 

Organizers and instructors stand amid a pile of goodies while selecting the winning raffle tickets. Prizes included a collection of Andy's writings, coffee mugs, and even a brand-new forcible entry tool for one lucky attendee.

 

Alexandria's fire safety mascot dog slides across the stage, much to the crowd's enjoyment. [Note: I felt it only appropriate to capture this hilarious, action-packed moment in the same style that won me the promotional poster contest. Thanks again! /RL]

 

FDNY Battalion Chief Thomas Dunne presents a new way to work your brain on a fireground; "Think Like an Incident Commander" aimed to keep everyone involved in an incident looking at the same big picture on the very same page.

 

Another multi-decade veteran of the FDNY, Batt. Chief Dunne has an easygoing manner that lends itself well to teaching. Practicing what he preaches, some of his first words to the crowd were about a person's presence and demeanor.

"The way you carry yourself, the way you act, the way you communicate, and the way you project yourself, are all going to affect everyone else. In life, in a fire… whatever you're doing, most of us have to take it down a couple notches."

 

Participants return from a short break rested, well-fed, and eager to continue. The Training Days will continue through Wednesday, covering additional topics such as high-rise fires and Rapid Intervention Team tactics (taught by Lt. Tony Carroll, of DCFD Rescue Company 2).

—————

Everyone in attendance seemed to be excited for more of the top-notch instruction afforded by the speakers; there will certainly be more to come soon, as I take in more of this invaluable knowledge! I will unfortunately be unable to attend tomorrow's session, as I'm back at work. I will, however, be attending on Wednesday; follow the live Twitter updates from @AndyFredericks to keep up with what's going on as-it-happens, or check out the schedule to discover what topics are being discussed.

—————

*** UPDATE: DAY 3 ***

Attendees participate in a donut-eating competition for the last of two highly-sought-after items; a Training Days challenge coin, and a bound collection of Andy's numerous firefighting articles.

 

Captain Dave Barlow of the Fairfax County Fire & Rescue Department begins his presentation on attic and basement fires. The increasingly prevalent use of lightweight construction poses a hazard not only to Barlow and his crew, but to all firefighters in rapidly-developing areas.

 

A clip from the 1991 movie "Backdraft," a scene well-known to most firefighters. One character's monologue was loosely utilized by Barlow to explain that crews must understand how fire behaves in different situations in order to effectively extinguish it quickly and safely.

"Small spans, smaller compartments, smaller rooms. Access the attic from [these places] and exploit what you know about trusses to attack it safely… the important thing is to understand the principle of firefighting, not just the procedure. Don't be a cookbook firefighter!"

 

Captain Barlow stresses using hoselines in the right places as one of the key factors in firefighting.

"The problem isn't getting in there; we can do that. It's mis-application of water. See this house? We burned the roof off of it with two inch-and-three-quarter handlines already inside."

 

Lieutenant Fred Ill of the FDNY explains one of the funnier stories from the seminar; a very active storyteller, his body language is outdone only by his New York accent.

"So a buddy of mine and I are visiting the firehouse, about to head over to Rescue 1's company picnic. We're late, we've got all the beer, they're waiting… we find out from the guys that there's a job up the street; I grabbed my gear, but he didn't have his. He grabs the first thing he sees… and it's the Chaplain's turnout gear. I mean, this stuff is pristine. So we got over there and went in… it was a good one. He came outta this fire, and this gear looks like it's had thirty years on the job."

 

Lieutenant Ill and Lieutenant Chris Reynolds (pictured, also of the FDNY) presented a basic approach to garden apartment fires. These low-rise, multiple-dwelling buildings present their own unique complications from a firefighting perspective, especially since the quality of their building construction has been diminishing with each passing year.

"These things are built with math now, not mass. Used to be when you had to hold up a heavy load, you used a heavy piece of lumber beneath it. Now, they use protractors and compasses to hold these buildings up. They're just not as strong, and they fail on ya faster."

 

Just a couple of wiseguys.

—————

Unfortunately, I was unable to finish out the rest of the day, and so missed two of the presentations. I wish to thank all the coordinators and instructors of the Training Days for putting on such a wonderful three-day event (which I will certainly be attending next year!)

For more updates on the rest of the day, dozens more photos, and links to Andy's articles (definitely worth a read), follow #AndyFredericks on Twitter or find them on Facebook.

Posted by on May 9, 2011 • Filed under: DCFD, Fire Photography, Fire Prevention & Education, Fire Rescue Topics, Firefighter Training, News, Training & Development, training-fire-rescue-topics

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

The Best Camera.

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Having misplaced my old, yet durable, point-and-shoot, I've been relying on my iPhone for my "work" camera. One of my dSLRs is too bulky for regular use; I find that the iPhone, while not having stellar image quality, certainly gets the job done.

You know what they say… the best camera is the one that's with you.

What's amazing about the advancement of technology is that the iPhone actually has more resolution than the first "pro"-level Nikon digital SLR (The D1, with a hefty price tag of almost $5,000 and a weight to match, sported a groundbreaking 2.7 megapixels). In comparison, my iPhone 3GS has 3 megapixels—I'll concede that the sensor size is different, but without going too much into the mechanics of it, it's still pretty damned amazing. Plus, I can do some post-processing in-camera by using an app called… wait for it… "BestCamera," created by photographer Chase Jarvis' awesome team. It's only $2.99, but you can get some amazing results with it. In fact, Chase's vision has started something of a neat community of iPhone photographers, whose work you can browse here.

Plus, this Apple hardware seems to have held up pretty well kicking around the inside of my bunker coat pocket, along with some door chocks and a few random tools. (Thanks, OtterBox.)

Regardless, it's always with me at work, and I enjoy those "ohmygodIwishIhadacamerarightnow" moments. Because I do! And I revel in going through my phone's photos every few months, because I forgot about most of the ridiculous stuff that's on there.

So here ya go. As always, click to embiggen.

 

Burn Foundation Fundraisers: a good excuse for firemen to get together and bowl at 8am in the morning.

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A poorly-built third story addition in NE… on one hell of a windy day.

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An early morning fire in our first-due area, from a few tours ago.

He had just put a new helmet in service that day, and said that he wanted to burn it up a little bit…

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Basketball, anyone? I think it adds a genuine Southeast touch to our firehouse.

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Potomac Gardens, up in Capitol Hill. An apartment off on the 3rd floor displaced quite a few residents. The woman from the fire apartment was (quite literally) dumped in my arms by Truck 7 for medical care, as she was found in the apartment with significant airway damage from smoke and heat.

View from the courtyard; the windows that weren't smashed out were coated with a thick, greasy soot.

I was pleasantly surprised to see other locals bringing coffee and hot chocolate to the displaced elderly residents who had to sit outside in the cold for a while; it looks like people from Capitol Hill have hearts, after all!

—————

Every firefighter in the city knows exactly what this is… but what it's doing sitting in someone's yard on Park Rd in NW, I have no idea.

Posted by on March 22, 2011 • Filed under: DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography, Fires, Fires/Incidents, Raising Ladders Photography, Uncategorized

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.

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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

one city block

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“Victim, if you can hear me, keep tapping on something!”

It started slowly, almost imperceptibly. I pressed the headphones tighter to my head with one hand and turned the volume up.

tap… tap… tap…

It was definitely there, and it was clear as day.

tap… tap… tap…

Whoever was under the rubble had heard us, and their soft taps of flesh on concrete were the only indication that they were still alive.

Nobody else could hear it—-only the Delsar operator wearing the headset. I turned on the electronic filters designed to eliminate electrical hums and the rumble of apparatus, and started to triangulate the sound.

We had placed three of the sensor “pucks” out in a three-pronged attack on the pile of destroyed concrete and rebar beneath us. The other rescuers stood dead still, avoiding making any extraneous noise during this most crucial of times.

Hmm… it’s not so loud on Number 1. A bit stronger on Number 2; and all quiet on Number 3.

“Alright, let’s move ‘em around; it’s loudest near Two.”

And so the process went, calling and tapping and moving and listening.

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Con-Space Communications, Ltd., the makers of the Delsar LifeDetector Seismic/Acoustic listening system (as well as the SearchCams we utilized that day to find our “victims”) was a company started in the early 90′s as a high-tech revolution to the methods of urban search and rescue in use at the time. Today, they’re one of the largest manufacturers of audio, video, and acoustic devices used to locate trapped victims in environments all over the world.

Utilizing the Delsar system and SearchCam devices, the Engine and Rescue Squad trained on finding victims in one of the simplest, yet most intriguing training sites I’ve been to yet. In Crofton, MD, there’s a pile of concrete and rubble that amounts to about one city block of destruction.

Arranged in a giant U-shape and up to twenty-plus feet in height in some places, the site offers plenty of void spaces for us to practice in.

—————

“I got one!”

The firefighter crouched down on his haunches and shouted back to the group. Cazo—our trusty K-9—had located a victim and alerted us; shortly thereafter, a SearchCam probe inserted into a dark hole revealed a human form. He was dusty, but he was there.

After we had removed the random mixture of pallets, old carpet, and torso-sized hunks of what was once a building, Mike stood up and smiled at us.

“Man, it’s dark as shit down there!”

We laughed as we helped him out of the hole, and moved onto the next evolution. Three hours later, it was clear that we have some very powerful tools at our disposal for the various situations that we may encounter on a true building collapse.

But the emphasis, as with most things, can be placed back on basics. Fancy toys are nice, but don’t always take the place of tried-and-true methods like hailing–just shout to any victims who can hear and listen for a response. Anyone trapped can then be triangulated by rescuers placed strategically around the site.


A special thanks must be offered to Sgt. Holmes and Lt. Kauffman, who helped all the companies out with the drill (especially the Lieutenant, who spent most of the day wedging himself into tight spaces as the victim!)

Also, we can’t forget Cazo! Some of you may remember my post about two of our own working in Haiti. He’s one badass dog.


Posted by on November 19, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography, Special Operations, Technology & Communications, Training & Development

APEX 2010

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Ronald Reagan International Airport, late morning. A 747 approaches runway 33 for a landing from the southeast. At the last second, an engine cuts out and a bad gust torques the left wing upward. The plane tumbled off-balance as the wheels touched down at an awkward angle. Smoking for the briefest of seconds, they snapped and disappeared under the body as the nose began its arcing path towards the ground. Just before the faded gray of the runway destroyed the windshield, the pilot glimpsed what lay not far ahead in a lush green enclave: the river.

Now in two sections, the fuselage tore through the airport’s chain-link fence like tissue paper. A net of twisted metal dragged across the GW Parkway, startling the lucky motorists and dragging the unlucky into the water. The remainder of the plane slid to a stop amidst stunned onlookers, burning neatly in the middle of the six-lane highway.

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The scenario was a grisly one, for sure. However, anything that simulates the need for DC, Arlington, Alexandria, Fairfax, and several other surrounding jurisdictions in addition to the massive crash trucks kind of has to be.

I counted myself fortunate that I was able to make it; that Saturday wasn’t a normal shift for me. I was working a trade at Engine 33, home of several pieces of Mass-Casualty-related apparatus, and so was with one of the few companies who attended the drill from DCFD.

We were joined by quite a few agencies…

…even some of the big-league players.


Several Mass-Casualty Apparatus (apparati?) were set up near the treatment area; per MC Incident guidelines, each category of patient (red/yellow/green/black) had a colored tarp onto which patients were carried.

For part of the drill, I transported a red-tagged patient (flail chest, altered level of consciousness, okay-ish vital signs) to Arlington Hospital. They were actors, of course—but many of them were quite dedicated to their patient descriptions. I see daytime soap opera roles in many of their futures!


The “wreckage.” The airport FFs were the ones extinguishing this while we all waited in the staging area.

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All in all, the drill took maybe five hours. If I recall correctly, there were a few dozen patients to be triaged and transported. Afterward, the organizers were nice enough to feed us Potbelly sammiches, and then we returned to DC. Eight years ago, I was at another inter-agency drill at Dulles Airport. Both were pretty cool—I don’t get much exposure to airport firefighting stuff unless I see one of the trucks as I taxi down the runway when flying. Pretty cool to hang out in one of the stations—much thanks to MWAA, Reagan National/DCA, and all the other agencies that made this a well-put together drill!

Posted by on October 3, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, EMS Topics, Mass Casualty Incident, Training & Development, training-fire-rescue-topics

Washdown

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The frantic, comical waving stopped as soon as I was within a few feet of him. “She just stopped breathing before you got here… and I think she used to have a pulse, too!”

That’s probably a safe assumption.

As soon as MPD’s latest hero stepped from between the cars, I could see the full extent of her injuries. No, she wasn’t breathing. No, I couldn’t find a pulse. Oh, and she had so many holes in her that I didn’t have time to count them all right now. Stomach, torso, arms… she looked like an extra in a B-level slasher movie.

The wounds that concerned me the most were currently making a faint whistling sound. Two new openings to her trachea had been made, and both were leaking air as fast as we could force it in with the bag.

Someone started chest compressions. The sirens in the distance told us that we had a minute or two until the ambulance arrived, so I glanced behind me and grabbed my tube kit; as I turned around and opened the laryngoscope with a neat snap, I saw the ramifications of our first round of CPR.

With every mushy compression, more of her insides became outsides. Her abdomen had been opened with such force and depth that various parts of her which were never meant to see daylight now became available for full visual inspection.

Dammit. Well, let’s see if this works.

The tube passed through her vocal cords. I withdrew the stylet and squeezed the bag; hopefully the cuff was placed far enough beyond the wounds to make it to the lungs. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

After a few more breaths, I slid my hands under her shoulders and helped lift her to a backboard. She was slick with blood, and surprisingly heavy in the way that only a dead weight can be.

Straps, bloody sheets, the thunk of the stretcher lock slamming home.

We slapped big defibrillator pads and occlusive dressings on her torso with equal speed. Behind me, I heard a radio squawk out our destination hospital as I looked at the monitor. There was electrical activity present, but it wasn’t actually making her heart move. Keep pumping.

I listened with a stethoscope to make sure the tube was in her lungs. It was properly placed, but each breath sounded like a dishrag being wrung out. Her chest was filling with blood, and the pressure increased every minute as we bumped down the road.

Our verbal report felt futile. 31-year-old female, multiple stabbing. Trachea, chest; abdominal evisceration. Pulseless and apneic on our arrival. Still no pulse, got a tube for ya.

The ER only worked her for a minute or two. A nurse approached the bed with a chest tube tray, but was waved off by a tired-looking doctor.

No, no need for any of that… time of death, 1759 hours.

—————

 

The smell of blood mixed with stale tank water overcomes your nostrils quickly, almost overwhelmingly. A funny thing about being a paramedic on an engine company: sometimes our versatility confounds my impersonality. Usually, it’s not an issue for me to remain clinical and detached. As providers, we’re asked to treat young and old, grateful and ungrateful all the same. Dead, living, whatever the call is; do your job and go on the next run. But even before we heard the story of who did it and why, we could tell that this was a very hateful—and very personal—attack. It turned out to be petty shit; and although I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, there’s a bit of retroactive anger and disgust when the engine is called back to wash someone’s handiwork off the asphalt. Handiwork that we lifted not eight hours ago, dripping and glassy-eyed, into an ambulance for the first of her last trips. The hearse will come soon after; the final ride may depend on what you believe in.

The ancient Greeks called for a coin in the mouth of their dead to cover the cost of the ferry to the underworld.

I hear Charon is quite particular about paying up front.

Posted by on September 1, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, EMS Topics, Patient Management

Building Walkthroughs: How Thorough Are Yours?

2 comments

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?

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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.

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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

Traffic, heat, and fireworks.

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Ah, some of the many things that plague us during the hot months of summer. I worked overtime at E13 (just south of the Mall) the other day, and I witnessed the difficulties of trying to navigate the major arteries in and out of DC. I live in the city, so I’m well aware of how bad the traffic can be; but even with lights and sirens, struggling through 14th St Bridge traffic during rush hour can be infuriating.

Downtown difficulties aside, other areas afford their own set of troubles to us. It seems like this city is always under construction; ask any firefighter you know, and I’m sure each one will have their own “…well, they closed off this street,” or “…they just put in too many damn speedbumps on that road!” story.

The heat doesn’t help any, either. “Man down” is a popular call; as are the “unconscious” or “heat emergencies.” As the humidity and temperature climb, the calls certainly won’t stop coming. The elderly, pediatrics, perfectly healthy individuals; nobody is excluded. Mother Nature has no mercy, and takes its toll evenly on both the patients and the responders. (It seems that these days, the @dcfireems Twitter account has a rolling reminder to stay hydrated; excellent advice, if only people would listen!)

Lastly, the reason for the season: fireworks. Last year, I was working in Southeast on July 3rd, and I had my own mishaps while we were looking for the source of smoke in a sub-basement (long story); I’m sure somebody will have a good story from this holiday.

Let me know in a few days if anyone encountered anything interesting from the 4th; other than that, be safe this weekend—both on duty and off!

Posted by on July 2, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD

A physics nerd’s take on technical rescue.

4 comments

With an uneasy creak, the spools began to move.

The chains could be heard pinging as they tightened and eventually held fast—little by little, the heavy wrecker began to lift the mammoth monolith of masonry that lay before us in a jungle of weathered stone and twisted rebar.

Yes, it’s drill time again; however, instead of going down into a trench, we’re going up in the air. E15′s collapse drill focused on shoring up ceilings, breaching concrete, and using our behemoth of a heavy rescue crane/wrecker to elevate the chunks of concrete that are piled haphazardly behind the Training Academy.

I have not yet attended the Collapse Rescue class that is afforded members of my firehouse; however, I have always found the physics principles that are inherent in technical rescue fascinating.

That’s right. I’m a classical physics and engineering mechanics dork at heart. Reading about formulas put together by the Army Corps of Engineers is one thing, but applying them in a real-world situation and seeing the results happen in front of you is entirely another.

Today was certainly no exception to my eager thirst for geeky science stuff; pictures, as always, can be clicked for a larger size.

Our concrete jungle, complete with… all sorts of junk.

The big bad boy wrecker. The boom itself is rated for 60 tons, and each of the two cable spools is rated for 16,400 lbs.

Rigging our strangely-shaped concrete tube of choice.

The Captain looks on…

Success! Yes, this is what I did at work today. I love my job.

Posted by on June 9, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, Fire Photography, Special Operations, Training & Development, Vehicle Operations & Apparatus

Confessions of a (former) Probationer.

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My tags: significantly more beat-up since the last time we saw them.

Yes, that’s right. The title says it all; not only have I completed my probation, but I’m willing to share all the stupid stuff I did while I was in that period. Some things are more serious than others, depending on where you’re assigned. Take each for what it’s worth to you.

While I was a Probationer/Rook/Sh*tbag/Stupid-ass Rookie/Probie/Hey-what’s-your-name/Dumbass-F*ckin’-Rookie-Paramedic, I have done all of the following:

  • Fallen asleep at the watch desk, several times. These were all accidents, as I often tried to take multiple watches at night to help out the guys. Oops.
  • Napped at work (yes, during the daytime. Sometimes I was sneaky when I was really exhausted.)
  • Watched all sorts of TV before 8pm; when you’re deprived of it, it’s hard not to glance at it quickly while mopping the floor.
  • Sat on the bench in front of the firehouse, usually a privilege reserved for those who have completed probation.
  • Screwed around on YouTube, Facebook, Hulu, etc.—admittedly, it was often at the behest of coworkers, but sometimes it wasn’t.
  • Washed my car in the middle of the day, ignoring the phone and everything else I was supposed to be doing. That was a total goof, as I guess I didn’t make the connection that I wasn’t allowed to do that yet. I figured it was okay if I did it quickly! Sorry ’bout that one.
  • Removed, for whatever reason, my god-awful polyester shirt and red-tag combination that is the signature garb of a rookie. That particular article of clothing really, really sucks. Everyone finds their ways around it, no?

I’m sure there’s more; certainly that can’t be everything that happened between Academy graduation in early ’09 and now. However, I suppose it will suffice to bolster my list of pleasant memories from probation, of which there are (surprisingly) quite a few—once you figure it out, it’s actually not so bad.

But now that it’s over, I can’t help but think that it’s kind of like having a birthday: people ask you: “So, do you feel any different?”

The answer’s always the same: ehh, not really.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s over, but as far as anything drastically changing? I’ll still study, and mop, and do dishes. I’m okay with that. It’s part of this job. I just have a few more freedoms now.

It’s been a good ride thus far, and I only see it getting better. Just another milestone…

—————

Edit: Since nobody reads the comments anyways, I’d like to bring an exchange between a commenter and myself into the body of the post. For anyone who seems to read this and think that I’m simply bragging about how little work I can get away with, you’re an idiot. I love my job and I’m proud to do it; the fact remains that everyone gets lazy about stuff, and when you condense almost two years of hard work into three hundred words, it’s going to sound worse than it really is. Come work in my firehouse with me, then you can run your mouth if you still want to.

Commenter:

“I don’t think i have ever heard of someone being so proud of not doing thier job. It is an unfortunate and more common thing these days form the “new guys”. You can never know enough about a job that will kill you. Keep your head in the game and stop feeling this sense of entitlement.”

(In case you were curious, all these spelling and grammar errors are verbatim.)

My reply:

“[name], I’m not proud of any of it. If you re-read the post closely, I’m neither praising nor feeling entitled about any of my actions; I believe you may have misinterpreted my writing. It’s simply a fact of human nature that throughout a year of walking inside the lines of my probationary rules, occasionally my foot will stumble outside the boundaries. It happens to everyone, but I’m willing to admit my faults and slip-ups because I’m not hiding the fact that I’m human and have the capacity to err. Your intentions in giving me advice sound pure, however, and for that I’m appreciative.

The “new guys” should never turn down sage advice form [sic] thier [sic] more senior members.”

Posted by on June 3, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, Firehouse Life, Personal, Probation

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.

2 comments

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.

5 comments

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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

RaisingLadders Photography on Facebook, Indy, and a few other items.

1 comment

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I’ve finally put together a Facebook page for the photography business; with the increasing functionality of FB’s pages for services/businesses, it’s almost like you don’t need a home website anymore (don’t worry, I won’t be discarding RLP.com—I’m always wary of FB crashing and burning as it becomes too Big-Brother-esque for its own good).

Become a Fan/Like It here, and browse around a bit if you haven’t already seen the photos from the main RLP site. The NikonFest video I made is also up there—damn you, Facebook, for being so versatile.

I’ve created an ad, as well, so keep an eye out for that in your sidebars while you mercilessly stalk your friends and coworkers.

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FDIC 2010 is just wrapping up in Indianapolis; Saturday is the last day, and I regret that I was unable to attend. I will, however, be looking to head out to wherever they hold it next year with my fellow FireEMS bloggers; sorry I couldn’t meet up with you guys! A quick search reveals a whole menagerie of posts on FireEMSBlogs about Indy and FDIC; a few of note come from Backstep Firefighter, FireCritic, and Tiger Schmittendorf (with my vote for the most clever “I’m at FDIC!” title I’ve found yet). He was also the one who was kind enough to use my photos in his presentation—more on that later.

Edit: Damn, I knew I’d miss some cool stuff! Not the least of which is this sweet podium designed to look like the tip of an aerial ladder, captured nicely by FireGeezer (original page):

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Last but not least, Gizmodo had a neat tidbit on a new firefighter’s mask that they found; did anyone see this at FDIC?

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Designed by Jason Swartzentruber (and featured on the concept technology website Tuvie.com), all these features like GPS trackers, a rotating cylinder harness, and a voice amplifier are supposed to make us safer and more effective as firefighters.

Any thoughts? To check it out even further, you can find more pictures on the Tuvie site (also accessible by clicking the photo above).

Posted by on April 23, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, Fire Photography, Fire Rescue Topics, Firefighter Safety & Health, News, Raising Ladders Photography, Technology & Communications, Weblogs

Caught another one…

1 comment

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.

4 comments
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

DCFD Hockey Tournament

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DC_FIRE.JPG

Quick note: I’ve been re-building my photography website and creating promotional materials for several upcoming events, so that’s been taking up the majority of my spare time recently. In a similar vein, however, I will be photographing the DCFD Hockey team’s tournament, which takes place in mid-April. Teams are traveling from all sorts of places across the country to attend—past participants have informed me that it’s usually one hell of a good time. More information is available on the team’s website; be sure to keep an eye out for a couple of action photos posted in the near future!

Posted by on March 18, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, Fire Photography, Raising Ladders Photography

The long-awaited Dublin Fire Brigade update!

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ireland_RL-11_sm

A voice rang out from down the hallway, with it’s owner appearing around a corner seconds later.

“Hey! We’ve got a call near the Liffey!

Glenn turned his head from us and cursed quietly.

“Are we goin’ swimming?” he asked, tentatively.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Glenn’s head lolled back towards us with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, thank God for that. I’m on the back step tonight, and that river’s dirty as hell.”

Glenn Delves is 29 years old and has been with the Dublin Fire Brigade for seven years. Currently assigned to the Tara Street station (which also serves as Brigade headquarters during the the day), his role as a firefighter, paramedic, and swiftwater rescue technician is nothing unique to the 40-some other firefighters in the house with him.

“Oh yeah, we’re all paramedics… and it just makes sense for most of us to be SRTs, since the river is right nearby and we go in there pretty frequently for all sorts of stuff.”

Waitaminute, back up. Forty firefighters?

“It’s the biggest house in Dublin. Even after HQ shuts down for the day, we still have a lot of people here.”

Almost as if he anticipated the question (probably by the incredulous look on my face), he added:

“Oh, and kitchen duty is horrible.”

Screen shot 2010-03-09 at 11.31.13 AM

The tour of the firehouse was brief but fascinating. The station opened at the intersection of Tara and Pearse Streets was opened as DFB headquarters in April of 1908—the old brick watchtower still stands, and is a historically protected structure by the city of Dublin. Today, it exists as an open-air station with canopy covers for the apparatus and multiple floors for bunkrooms, the mess hall, administrative offices, and “Control Room” (the call-taking center for the entire city as well as many surrounding counties, staffed 24 hours a day by full-time Brigade personnel).

Unfortunately, our trip was cut short by Glenn and the rest of his crew headed out on calls—with approximately 133,000 calls annually, the Dublin Fire Brigade must balance the average 364 daily calls amongst twelve full-time (and three on-call or “retained”) stations. However, with locations like Tara Street staffing two engines, two ladder trucks, one tower ladder, two ambulances, a Haz-Mat Unit, and a District Officer, the workload seems pretty well spread-out.

ireland_RL-23_sm

It was a wonderful trip, and I can’t express my gratitude to the DFB enough. If there’s any Dublin Fire personnel reading this, I sincerely appreciate your hospitality and wish you all the best in your careers—take care and stay safe, brothers.

Oh, and if you ever need a place to crash in D.C., drop me a line and I’d be more than happy to help out.

/RL

ireland_RL-13_smGlenn Delves, a seven-year veteran of the Dublin Fire Brigade, opens compartments on the fire engine and describes the equipment contained within.


ireland_RL-14_smAs Swiftwater Rescue Technicians (SRTs), the crews of the Tara Street station keep their river rescue gear ready on the apparatus at all times.


ireland_RL-15_smThe Dublin Fire Brigade utilizes Dräger breathing apparatus; three SCBA packs line the rear wall of the bench seat for the firefighters “on the back step” for that shift.


ireland_RL-12_smI think it’s universal: DFB personnel dislike their ambulance rotations just as much as their American counterparts do, it seems.

(I can just hear Dave Dennis now: “That suck-ass rookie paramedic would go to an Irish firehouse and take pitchurrs of a ambalance!” Yep—go ahead, Dave, have your fun.)

ireland_RL-9_smThis button from the DCFD Emerald Society is older than I am. There’s quite an impressive wall of patches just inside the entrance to the station—incidentally, one of Glenn’s coworkers is now the proud owner of a classic E26/T15 “Foghorn Leghorn” patch.


ireland_RL-17_sm(I bet they hate the sound of their printer winding up, too.)


ireland_RL-26_smAfter Firefighter Delves (unfortunately) stated that he disliked his appointed nickname of “Glennsy,” the jokes compounded until his gear was permanently branded with “Glennsy Delvesy” in permanent marker. Much to his chagrin, he discovered it just as he was escorting these visitors through the facilities.


ireland_RL-28_smThe distinctive markings on this helmet indicate the rank of “sub-officer;” personnel advance from Firefighter to Sub-Officer to Station Officer to District Officer and beyond, receiving increasing responsibilities with each promotion.


ireland_RL-25_smWe arrived just in time for evening shift change, so we were witness to the daily equipment checks; it would appear that DFB ladder technicians get to ride in comfortable style while operating the turntable.


ireland_RL-24_sm(I would be remiss if I didn’t include something about “raising” a “ladder”, no? Terrible joke, I’m sorry.) Both DFB aerial ladders within the Tara Street Station reach 100′ in the air when fully extended. “There aren’t too many high-rises throughout the city,” say Firefighter Delves, “but we’re downtown. The business district around us has the highest buildings you’ll see in Dublin.”


ireland_RL-16_smAll hose carried on the apparatus is kept rolled. At a fire, the equivalent of the American lineman’s position would get off the piece, unroll a section of hose, connect a nozzle, and then advance to the structure; the Dublin Fire Brigade does not utilize pre-connected lines.


ireland_RL-10_sm

The DFB operates on a 39-hour work week, across four shifts (designated A through D). The spacious accommodations of Tara Street are more than enough to feed and house approximately forty personnel per shift, from firefighter through the on-duty District Officer.

—————

On a non-fire department note: a little bit later, I’ll add some pictures from the highlights of the remainder of my vacation. I know it’s not particularly relevant to RL as a whole, but it’s a beautiful country, and I would highly recommend Ireland for anyone who enjoys traveling.

Posted by on March 9, 2010 • Filed under: DCFD, DCFEMS, Fire Photography, Fire Rescue Topics, Firehouse Life, Personal

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