It's Out!!!

Fire In His Bones is now available on Amazon


“Dave, we do a great job in this department with every victim we encounter except one, the one in the mirror. You’re a victim and you either don’t know it or won’t admit it,” Chief Mann said. Captain Dave Michaels attained his dream job as the company commander of Rescue Squad 1, one of two such elite units in Fairmont County. But the dream turns into a nightmare, literally, when his crew is first arriving after a North Korean sponsored terrorist bombing of a library slaughters a visiting Kindergarten class. The “old school” Michaels resists help as his life spirals downward. Removed from his company and saddled with a desk, Michaels faces the loss of his job, wife, and family. Assigned to develop a rescue squad training program, the project turns out to be more valuable than imagined, teaching him about himself and helping him deal with the mental trauma. The assignment and the help of a firefighter counselor reopens the fire house door. Restored to command of a truck company, Michaels works through his struggles to reach a stronger place, at the same time wondering if the deadly attack was a lone wolf or are more in the wings?

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Generation 3 At Work

A few shots of the third generation on a recent house fire.....

The Firefighter Trampoline

Jumping from a burning building has long been, and remains, the last resort of a desperate victim, usually with less than optimum results.   But on November 10, 1904, two girls jumped from an overcrowded fire escape platform, and this time things were different.  They were caught by New York City firefighters using an unusual circular fabric device, a safety net.  Now more recognized in comedic videos and seen in museums, the Browder Safety Net was at one time a common piece of equipment for ladder companies.  Developed by a Civil War veteran by the name of Thomas F. Browder in 1887; he continued to evolve and improve the design, adding additional patents in 1900. 

There were other successes, including one in 1901 in New York City in which twenty people reportedly leaped to safety.  Failures, though, were common as well.  In Newark in 1910, four women jumped simultaneously from an upper floor of a factory and tore through the net.  Although two deployed nets saved a few, a similar situation occurred at the infamous Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire and many more jumpers were missed. Additional stories on other fires abound of individual victims who jumped, but missed the net or hit the edge, sometimes injuring firefighters. 

Ladder trucks carried the net folded and typically mounted vertically on the side of the apparatus.  It could be deployed in seconds, but required at least ten or more firefighters holding it at shoulder height, in the right place and time.  With the fabric center and springs connecting it to the circular frame, it was a portable man held version of the circus trampoline, but with less bounce.

The ideal way in which to jump was with the legs straight out in a seated-like position, and arms crossed in front of the torso with the objective being to land on the small of the back or buttocks.  While a firefighter could easily be taught this during a routine training session, a victim at a fourth floor window with smoke pouring from around them or flames nipping at their heels would not be a receptive student.  The firefighters on the ground would catch them, or try to, in any orientation in which they jumped. 

As time passed and the length of aerial ladders increased, the need for the Browder net decreased.  Concerns over its safety and effectiveness grew and in the 1950s departments began to phase out their use.  These nets are now little more than a curiosity, displayed in museums, fire stations, and at least one firefighter’s home bar.  If keeping a fire scene from being a “circus” is a good thing, no longer bringing our own trampoline probably helps.    

Old School Rescue: A History Lesson

Back just a couple of years in firefighter time, in 1877, following a tragic fatal fire at the Southern Hotel, the St. Louis Fire Department established the first Pompier Corps.   Christopher Hoell, a German immigrant, and Zero Marx lead the unit and taught climbing and rescue skills to other departments across the country. 

They used specially developed scaling ladders, a belt with a large hook, which modern (hopefully) descendants of remain in service in many departments to this day, and ropes.  These ladders were not simple to use, but provided access to buildings blocked by wires or trees, and to elevations above that which could be reached by aerial ladders.  Multiple pompier ladders could be used, which with rope, provided a way to get hose lines to upper floors. 

The top of the ladder, with its iron catch, would be hooked over a window sill, and the firefighter would climb the narrow rungs to the window.  He would stand on the sill and pull the ladder up and raise it to the next window and repeat the process. 

This required considerable dexterity, strength, balanced, and a large dose of intestinal fortitude, to use polite terminology.  These ladders remained a presence on at least some ladder trucks for almost a century and hang in many fire houses today as a reminder of a storied past. 

Response Challenges...Or What To Do When Your Ladder Truck Catches Fire

A recent story was a great reminder of the never quit attitude of most firefighters, especially truckies. The box alarm had the ladder truck assigned first due on the reported building fire. The response was normal until the cab began filling with smoke. Not a light mist, but nasty, banking down from the ceiling stuff. The driver and officer quickly determined it was emanating from the mobile radio, but the off switch didn’t help. There was no plug to pull as it was hardwired. The response continued. A burning radio wasn’t going to stop them on a first due structure.

The officer rolled down his window, attempting some ventilation with only marginal success. Over the now extra loud screams of the siren, the driver yelled over.

“I’m starting to have a hard time seeing.”

“Well roll your fucking window down,” the officer yelled back. More ventilation couldn’t hurt. The small dash mounted fan was turned on with no effect; this wasn’t to be a PPV fire. The officer began blowing on the radio like a birthday candle, trying to extinguish the fire burning within.

The truck continued, the crew refusing to cancel. Eventually, it went out; whether from the efforts of the truck officer or the circuit protection operating, we don’t know, a knock is a knock. Finally, the smoke began to lift.

A few minutes later, the truck arrived on scene to find a fire on a deck; likely less smoke than they had battled just getting there.

Let a fire in the rig keep you from getting there? Not a true truck company.