01/05/10

I'm not a man who considers himself particularly callous, In fact I'd consider myself pretty much a softie. Even so, I'm one of those guys who really hates the sentimental crap that gets spread thick sometimes. I consider myself a realist, and sometimes, I admit, I'm pretty jaded.

Sometimes in my job though, I get slapped in the face by the realization that I share a uniform with some really, really special people.

Tuesday night is a case in point.

The KFFD has a big training centre, it's a place built with one purpose in mind, to train Firefighters. There is a big brick building that we can use to fill with smoke and search, to ladder and to ventilate. There are many different props used to simulate different emergencies. By far the most popular props are the live fire props. There is a car, a dumpster, a propane tank and a simulated gasoline spill. All of these are plumbed into a natural gas main and can be set fire to at will. The Firefighters are able to attack the fires again and again, perfecting their approach, experimenting with different water applications, and learning what to do in different situations that could take many years to experience in the real world. We can prepare them for hundreds of situations in their early years and make them much better able to meet their daily jobs.

Anyway, about the other night.

We had set up a training scenario that involved the simulated gasoline spill. This is an area 20 feet by 15 with perforated gas line buried in crushed rock. When it's turned on it flares up like a huge puddle of flaming gasoline. It's big, it's impressive and it's hotter than hell. We had a junk car placed just inside the burn area to be involved in the flames. The idea was to simulate a gas spill at a gas station. The attack crew should have fought their way past the car and entered the gas station we have there to rescue the "occupants" (actually some dummies we have in place). The point of the exercise was to decide on priorities, to fight the fire and ignore the occupants or to rescue the occupants and let the car burn. It's decision time. No time or resources to do both, so choose and choose fast. Make a decision and run with it. This is the kind of stuff an officer needs to be ready to do. Think outside the box. Make a decision and get on with it.

The evolution started as it should have. The prop was lit up and flared flame twenty feet into the air, the truck drove in and the officer was faced with the situation, he made his decisions and a plan formed in his mind. Everything went like clockwork for the first few minutes. The crew donned their airpacks, the lines were pulled, and the officer decided to take the run to the building first and leave the car to burn. Good choice, go fo rthe lives and abandon the property. If you have to choose, choose to save lives. Full marks. The officer on the crew is new to the command job, so it wouldn't have surprised me if he had done the moth thing and go straight to the flame. He ran his crew close to the car, protecting themselves from the billowing fire with flowing 1-1/2" diameter hose lines.

My job as the training officer is to assess the performance and decisions of the crew. I was watching the proceedings closely, albeit from 50 or so feet away. When the crews came abreast of the little junked Nissan that was sitting on the edge of the flaming area, gradually catching fire itself I saw one of the hose crews hesitate, look into the car, and suddenly things started getting interesting. In the midst of this wall of flame one guy reached out and grabbed the officer, leaned into him and yelled into his ear, with the air masks on their faces it was impossible to tell what was being said but the urgent hand signals were unmistakeable. There was a sudden, flurry of moving men. It was a change of plans on the fly, very risky, downright dangerous in situations like this. The crew suddenly split up, the lines were handled by one man each (usually each hose is a two-man job) They snapped their nozzles to full fog and rolled the flames back from the car just enough for the two free men to run into  the burn area. without hesitation they plunged into the hot zone and hit the back of the car like mad bulls. The two big men grabbed the smouldering bumper and heaved the car forward, the back wheels dug furrows in the gravel because the transmission was still in park. I swear it didn't slow them a whit. All the while their hose men backed them up keeping the flames from getting at them. If any of them had hesitated, tripped, or failed his job in any way there would have been four guys in the burn ward. Once the smoking car was clear of the fire the officer had a chance to grab his radio. His urgent voice shouted "Knock it off! Knock it off!"

Having recieved the emergency shutdown signal the gas supply was immediately shut down, I ran forward wondering just what the hell was going on, they had screwed up the practice and put themselves into very real danger to push this car out, I was pretty scared and absolutely livid that they had done something like that for god only knew what reason. There was no earthly reason I could imagine that would require those actions. These men had not been hurt or killed in the fire, now I was going to make them wish they had died. I was going to

By the time I got over to them the crew had fought their way out of their air packs and were opening the doors of the car, intent on whatever was inside.

In my usual understanding, laid-back, quiet unassuming voice I asked what I considered some very pertinent questions.

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU IMAGINE YOU WERE DOING GOING INSIDE THAT FIRE!!! ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS?!

I breathed deeply in preparation for my next set of reasonable, quiet questions and stomped furiously up to the crew, I opened my mouth ready to REALLY start yelling. The first guy inside the car emerged with a little grey kitten in his hand. It looked around terrified. It's little dark eyes looking at this giant apparition that held it in a huge, dirty mitt. It's mouth opened and closed with indignant, frightened, "mew" sounds.

"There's half a dozen of them in the passenger side footwell Cap, I saw them as we were going past. Couldn't leave them there could we?"

What the hell, it's pretty much impossible to argue with logic like that.

Epilogue:

The kittens were fine, I have since moved the junk car to a quiet spot in the corner of the training ground where they will stay until I find homes for them.

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