Probie IX

Where you stand depends on where you sit.  I suppose that’s a truism for getting up out of a chair but, when I used to say it, I meant it to be a truism about how one’s perspective on something depends on their vantage point.  You sit in Wrigley Field as a kid, you become a Cubs fan.  Sit on a school board, become a teacher fan.  Represent a union, have a labor perspective.  That sort of thing.  The point was viewpoints change, so don’t get set in place, or think your perspective is the one and only true assessment of any situation.  Basic managerial stuff.      

Early on as a probie, I learned there were seat assignments in fire rigs.  The driver is pretty obvious, and the officer becomes just as obvious the first time riding in one, but it gets a little more complicated in back.  Where you sit determines what you do when you arrive on scene.  The general assignments are water supply behind the driver, nozzle man behind the officer, nozzle back up next to nozzle man, and a tbd assignment (usually ladder thrower) in the fourth rear seat.  Those are the general assignments, and they vary with how many rigs are on the call, and what the rig is, and how many firefighters are on each rig.  It's “situational”, which is THE catch all phrase in firefighting, 

When executed perfectly, it is a beautiful thing.  Fire engine shows up on scene and six firefighters burst out of the vehicle.  Five will have their air packs on and masks at the ready if not already on.  The hydrant guy (if he hasn’t been dropped off to “catch” a hydrant on the way to the scene) hustles to get the engine hooked up to a hydrant.  The driver gets the pump working.  The nozzle guy and back up yank a pre-connected hose off the rig and stretch the hose to the first point of entry.  The officer issues first orders and does a 360 degree assessment of the fire and the tbd guy (if there is one) starts throwing ladders or manning the deck gun (a high volume water gun on top of the engine). 

When it all goes well, there’s water on the fire within thirty seconds, coming out of the tank on the engine, and a fire hydrant is replenishing the engine’s tank within a minute.  When it does not go well, every extra second seems like an hour, and people either get help or get relieved of the task they are failing at within seconds.  Water, and speed, are life on the fireground.  

Every job is important, and failure cannot happen.  We don’t train to get it right, we train until we can’t get it wrong.  Early on, I wasn’t certified to enter a burning structure, so my job was water supply.  Practice.  Practice.  Practice.  

Now, I’m entry certified.  So I (literally, to be honest) speed to the station and run to get my gear on and grab the nozzle seat. 

This next part is a little weird but it is also absolutely true.  There are few things in life as intoxicating as being first into a burning structure.  A place you’ve never been before.  Smoke-filled and hard or impossible to see.  Doors, windows, furniture, stuff that impedes your progress or trips you up.  A breathing demon somewhere, intent on destruction and or death.  Your job is to find it, and knock it down, before it kills someone, including you.  All while people on the outside are wondering what the hell is going on, inside.  Every job on the fireground is important, but being first in is the essence of firefighting. 

In my job, in my life, I’ve always been comfortable on the leading edge.  First to escape from the orphanage, first in the family to go to college, first to found a charter school, first to create new urbanist communities, first to stop Davenport's ballpark from flooding, or try to convert its casino to a community non-profit, or try to send every Davenport kid to college, first to appoint women or people of color to positions, first to post all my City Administrator emails to a website; being first is kinda a thing with me.  It’s not always successful, but it is enjoyable.  The models for success are scant, the problem solving is dynamic, and the risk holds your attention.

I have SO MUCH more to learn about firefighting, but I cannot imagine anything better than first into a structure on fire.  Except, rescue. 

I can imagine getting better at it.  Someone once told me, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.  I believed them.  So, first into the mobile home on fire, I head into the smoke.  Mobile homes burn fast.  Keep going, keep going, looking for the fire.  There must be fire, because there’s smoke.  Keep going, keep going, into the smoke. Find my way to the bedroom.  It must be here.  This is where the smoke is most dense.  Where the HELL is the fire?  Keep looking, under the bed, in the closet, along each wall.  This is where I’d use the thermal imaging camera if I wasn’t too amped to forget it (never doing that again) when I left the engine.  All the smoke, none of the fire. 

Doesn’t make sense.  I’d radio the captain, if I had not been so focused on getting to the fire so quickly that I didn’t stop to grab a radio.  Damn it, I’m an idiot.  Never making that mistake again.

Retrace my steps.  To the porch.  It’s the porch that is on fire.  Walked right past it, mesmerized by the smoke.  The wind is blowing the smoke from the porch into the home.  Ok, that makes sense.  Immediately reset my mental map and quickly extinguish the porch fire. 

Saved a couple’s home.    

Where you stand depends on where you sit.  That bit about no one vantage point being the one that is absolutely correct?  Um ... I was wrong.

First in is where it's at.  They’re gonna have to pry me out of the nozzle man’s seat.