Citation for Generation 3

Some shots of the unit award citations issued to firefighters from a July 2012 fire on Castle Boulevard in Burtonsville, MD where 17 civilians were rescued over ladders. 

Mike and Chief Richie Bowers

The crew

Mike with Battalion Chief Paul McNeel

A Great Concept Doesn't Equal Success

Some equipment looks great in the catalog, has an awesome concept behind it, and works like shit in the real world.  A piece of equipment I worked with that met this definition was the build-a-board.  A take off on the scoop stretcher, it was a four piece replacement for the short board.  In theory, each of the four pieces would slip under or behind the victim, snap together and lock in place, and provide a quick and safe method for immobilizing possible back and neck injury patients in auto accidents.  

After we received ours, we practiced and trained and trained and practiced with it.  The literature made it sound like it should be as easy as, well, any analogy you could think of.   It wasn’t.  Oh, we got rather proficient with it in our personal vehicles in the parking lot and chairs in the squad room, but it was never as simple as the brochure made it look.   

Finally a few days after putting it in service, we responded on a wreck with a victim in the passenger seat needing immobilization.   With the old fashioned short board and long board combo, we’d have gotten her out in less than ten minutes.  With our marvelous new build-a-board, we finally got everything lined up,  connected, and snapped together after forty minutes; not an auspicious beginning.   

I had seen all I needed, and after that forgot about it’s presence in the drivers side compartment.  The short board wasn’t broken; no need to fix it.  It was a great lesson.  A terrific concept did not necessarily guarantee real world success. 

Fireballs: Tools of the Old Days

These were the most common fire glove in use—at least in our area, when I joined the fire department.  I’ve heard a few call them red balls, but they were really more orange than red, a flexible plastic coated material that made them water proof, and if worn with cloth liner gloves, warm in the winter.  The coating was also their worst characteristic, as it could and did melt in fires, and resulted in some nasty burns.  They didn’t smell great or at least your hands didn’t after wearing them for a while.  The sweat build up was absorbed by the inner layer and never went away.  They were in the process of being replaced with heavy lined cowhide gloves that gave better protection from fire, but soaked through quickly—their downside. 

My department resolved this inherent conflict by issuing everyone a pair of each; fireballs and the new leather gloves.  We wore the leathers for the fire attack and the fireballs for cleaning up, rolling and loading hose, and the ever important washing of the rigs when we returned.  I still see a pair around once in a while, inevitably used now only for this last purpose. 

Fireballs and three-quarter boots; tools of the old days.

From the mouths of babes—come Chiefs

Walking in for a visit with a friend of mine, I saw the assistant chief’s buggy outside the building. 

“So, you put a white hat back on?” I asked him.  My friend had been the department chief a number of years ago.

“No, I took a captain’s spot.  That’s his,” he said pointing at a young—well young to me—man who he then introduced me to.  My friend then went on to tell me that the young man’s father had been a captain when he had been chief years before and he knew the now assistant chief since he had been quite young. 

My friend told how the boy had enjoyed his trips to the fire house, looking at the equipment and asking questions.  One day, when he was about five years old, he noticed my friend’s turn out gear in the back of the chief’s car. 

“What’s that for?” He asked. 

“Well, when I get to the fire, I put my gear one,” my friend answered. 

“Really?  My daddy says you just go to the fire and yell at everybody.” 

Dump The House: The Shoes.....

It’s a colorful expression for getting all the apparatus out the door.  It’s more and more difficult these days of limited manpower, both volunteer and career. 

Montgomery County Fire & Rescue Station 15--Burtonsville

What I like best about this picture, though, is the shoes. The empty leather shows the tenuous nature of the work.  It’s late evening, after ten.  One minute, everything is calm.  There is laughter someplace—inevitably in a fire house.  The television is on with a small audience.  Others have turned in for the night.  The bays are filled with the engine, ladder truck, and heavy rescue squad.  A minute later, all that remains is…..the shoes.

A Christmas Excerpt.....

It was the Friday night before Christmas, a crisp  starlit evening.  We were cruising the township roadways with Santa Claus on the rescue.  It was an annual event, much enjoyed by many of the smaller members of the community and, truth be told, by many of the bigger ones as well.   

The lights were flashing, the siren screaming, the air horn blasting and regular sounds of “Ho Ho Ho” were echoing in the night air from behind me.  I rode the officer’s seat in the cab, just enjoying the atmosphere and the smiling children we encountered on our slow tour.  My fun was broken by a radio call. 

 “Comm Center to Chief 36,” the radio query came.  After I responded, the dispatcher asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be out with Santa Claus by chance, would you, Chief?” 

 “Affirmative,” I answered. 

“Can you call in by phone?” the dispatcher asked. 

I didn’t have a good feeling as I reached for the cell phone mounted on the dash.  Was some scrooge upset by the siren noise, I wondered.  When I got the dispatcher on the line, it was nothing like that. 

“Hey, Chief, we just had a call from a grandma on Greenfield Road.  She was upset ‘cause she had been out when you went by and her grandchildren just missed Santa.”

"Please tell me she didn’t call in on 911?” I asked the dispatcher, almost dreading his response.  The 911 emergency line is certainly not the proper method to obtain a visit by Santa Claus. 

  “Oh yeah, she did,” he said with a laugh. 

  “Sorry about that, we’ll take another run down that road.”  We have to take care of a grandma like that, I thought to myself. 

 “Thanks, Chief, and Merry Christmas,” the dispatcher answered, as we both disconnected the line. 

 

Backyard “Training” or What the Burn Barrel Can Teach

The ubiquitous burn barrel isn’t just the source of springtime brush fires when oblivious residents decide to light them when the wind is gusting at forty—so much so that it probably took them five matches to get the stuff going.  It can actually be an opportunity to turn the mundane task of burning trash into a learning experience. 

The backyard burn barrel can be a firefighter’s small scale research lab for fire behavior.  Vertical and horizontal spread and smoke development can all be “studied” in an admittedly limited but still beneficial way while completing a line on the honey-do list.  Try to extrapolate in your mind how these materials, put in a room, would similarly react to this small ignition source.  Notice how the physical configuration; vertical or horizontal, affects the speed of development.  The differences observed from ordinary combustibles when the occasional piece of plastic sneaks into the barrel by “accident” is telling as well. 

An unusual method?  Maybe, but don’t waste a single opportunity to learn from a fire.  The routine job of disposing of papers and boxes can be your own mini training session on fire behavior.