Thick black smoke is billowing out of a two story residential building as we pull up. Some people may look at it and think that we’re nearing flashover conditions. The movie backdraft has made people aware of that particular danger, but what most firefighters fear is flashover.
According to Wikipedia:
“A flashover is the near-simultaneous ignition of most of the directly exposed combustible material in an enclosed area. When certain organic materials are heated, they undergo thermal decomposition and release flammable gases.”
In other words, a superheated room/house, basically catches fire simultaneously igniting all fuel. It’s nasty stuff. The video above shows you how fast it can happen. (It's short. I encourage you to give it a watch.) I think the survival rate is on the low side of the single digits. Fun fact: smoke is incomplete combustion (fuel). Even smoke catches on fire in the right conditions. Especially the thick dark kind. Today I don’t even notice it. I’m too flustered and preoccupied.
We train for hundreds of hours every year. It doesn’t always matter. You could plan things down to an exact science, (with a lot of buildings we do) and it never goes as planned because the variables are too chaotic.
I should have been thinking about possible fire-attack tactics that we could deploy, or where we could get a dependable water supply. Maybe think about the layout of the particular house I’m going to.
Instead I sent a text:
“I love you. Kiss the baby for me.”
(Truth be told I always send this message when stuff is getting real.)
I was also hoping that we were going to have enough manpower. Another fun fact: 80% of American firefighters are volunteers. They show up from home and hop on a fire truck and get paid absolutely nothing. Our department is a combination department. We have full-time employees like myself, part-time employees, and a bulk of our firefighters are volunteers. We have two paid people around the clock, but other than that we rely on the volunteers heavily. A lot of the volunteers hang out outside of the firehouse and that day most were out of town going on a kayaking trip. You never know who is going to show up. Although it’s rare, sometimes no one does. Luckily some of the guys strolled in. We left hoping more were on the way.
All of these things were going through my head at the same time while simultaneously feeling like a dumb-ass because I was struggling to get my mask on. The straps didn’t want to cooperate and give me a good enough seal around my face. Not only that, but everyone in the neighborhood is always out watching. It’s showtime baby. Don’t let them see you sweat. Pull it together. I thought all of this but I didn’t think, “hey, that smoke looks pretty nasty.”
Chaos always ensues in the first five minutes. Unfortunately it’s also critical that your best work gets done in those minutes. As a general rule, the fire double in size every minute.
I start immediately with helping set up the aerial (ladder truck), after getting my gear in order. Electric lines overhead complicate this. In a moment’s notice none of this is relevant anymore because Chief calls over to me and tells me to get my ass inside the building to help the attack team. I grab a set of irons and walk into the searing heat.
Once I cross the threshold of the door I’m blind. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can never seen inside of these situations. Between the smoke and my mask fogging up I get to experience what it’s like to be blind. You have to feel around. Luckily the family was accounted for prior to entering the building, with the exception of the family dog. The dog was found just inside of the door and came running out as the door was forced. Knowing that takes an immense load off, once you see/feel/kinda know what you’re working with you can usually calm down some.
The smoke starts to clear in the building as a second line starts pouring through an accessory window. Conditions in the building cool down a lot. The bulk of the fire gets knocked down and now a lot of the job is humping hose and knocking down what remains of the flames on the second floor. Sure “hot spots” rekindle randomly around you, but I’m fortunate enough to have an officer inside with me that has exceptional awareness and points these things out before they become a problem.
Myself and another firefighter are told to advance the line up the stairs. This is a little strenuous due to the bends and corners in the house but not anything crazy. The steps feel crunchy and unstable under my feet. Mistake two of the day: I should have “sounded” the steps with my halligan or axe prior to standing on them.
All in all, we knocked everything down and the house was still salvageable. While I was taking my a break from working the fire and catching my breath I got dispatched to an ambulance call, because I’m a paramedic too. None of this was anything heroic. Just another day at the office. Tragedy was avoided.
It was fine this time that I didn’t notice how dark the smoke was or that I didn’t sound the floor, but it was careless. I am the first to admit that I make a lot of mistakes, but I do my best to learn from them. This was a lesson. We have some odd ritual in the fire service in which study the deaths of our fellow fallen firefighters, lost in the line of duty. We try to figure out what went wrong, what we can do better. Sometimes you pay great debts for mistakes. One thing that tends to happen sometimes is that the floor gives out.
Josh Laird from Frederick County, MD suffered this fate a short time ago. He fell through the basement (which happens to be one of the most dangerous places to be during a fire) and later was found unconscious.I studied this for hours, but there is one part I can't shake out of my mind. His last words were much like my first words of the fire I’m writing about.
“Tell my family I love them.”
Last message is at 12:26.
Tragedy was avoided the day that this fire happened, but one day it may not be. All I can do is hope to learn from my mistakes and through the accidents of others and hope I get better.
Courage is nothing but fear holding on for a minute longer. - George S. Patton (paraphrased).
Sometimes you can do the job perfectly and still pay the price.
20 years ago today there were 343 first responders in New York City that selflessly ran into pure chaos when the twin towers were hit. They ran 110 flights of stairs trying to make sure everyone was out.
We all know the story. What many don’t know was that these people were just like everyone else. They were regular people with families and dreams. Many of them probably shared the same last thought. They just wanted the people they loved to know how much they loved them.
I can think of no more stirring symbol of man’s humanity to man than a fire engine. - Kurt Vonnegut
Today is a day of reflection for me. I hope you all stay safe out there. This blog is not me trying to get any thanks for what I do. In fact, I feel so awkward whenever people try to thank me. This blog is just me thinking out loud and providing a little insight into what my job might look like. Feel free to ask me any questions below.
All photos used were courtesy of Pixabay. Although I do have photos that were taken of the day in question, I felt it to be disrespectful to share them.
