Just got back from Detroit Receiving Hospital first thing this morning.
I caught a real puker of a fire: "Two-story apartment building going
throughout, children inside the building. "When I arrived on the scene,
there was fire and smoke coming out of every window in the place. There
was even smoke coming out between the bricks on the side of the building!
There wasn't much time to think; besides, Harry used to tell me, "Quit
thinking, just swim!"
As I threw my air tank on and reached for my facepiece, I heard someone
yell, "They're on the second floor." By that time, the trialman,
a few other squadmen, and myself ran up the stairway to the second floor.
Damn, it's hot, real hot!. "Stop thinking, just swim." I grabbed
the trialman by the arm, "Stay right with me, kid." This type
of rescue was not just a long swim; it was a sprint; breathe only when
you have to, keep your head down and go! As we reached the top of the stairs,
it was unusually hot with thick black smoke and we couldn't see a thing!
I heard the whistling and the violent rush of air toward the fire as the
squadman kicked open the stairway door. "Back out, it's going to blow!"
This was one race we weren't going to win! A giant ball of superheated
fire and smoke came roaring out at us like the last length of Pete's 400
against Doug at the state meet!
The next thing I knew, all four of us were at the bottom of the stairs,
my helmet was gone, my face piece was ripped off, my face and body ached
in every place imaginable. It was almost as bad as doing five rat-races,
one after the other. Where's the trialman? If he's hurt or killed it's
my fault! All I could think of was, find him! With my lungs screaming
for air and every exposed part of my skin burning with pain, I began searching
the floor. Finally, I felt the hoseline we brought in. I had two choices:
one would lead to the pipe and the other outside. Just my luck, it led
to the pipe. Turning toward the ceiling that was totally involved, I realized
that the other three men were scrambling for the door, including the trialman.
By then the worst was over, a second team was pulling us out and were working
their way up the stairs.
Sitting on the running board of Engine #5, I remembered the Email I
got from Lynn M. asking me when I was going to retire from this job and
another one from Lee D. telling me not to give up. I can't, Lynn, it's
in my blood; and I won't, Lee, not until it's over! I know they'll both
understand what I'm talking about, they have both been there. So now, I'm
sitting here with gauze on both ears, some kind of oily crap on my face
and wrists, feeling like s--t, sore all over and wondering what am I going
to tell my grandkids tomorrow about how I look? "Stop thinking, John,
just swim!" Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow! PS: There were no
children in the building! (11/99)