Firefighting

Nostalgic Reflections of My Occupational Adventure

Issue 7 and Volume 161.

BY ALAN BRUNACINI I am asking for your kind patience while I indulge for a couple of columns in a moment of geriatric reminiscences. I became a firefighter at about this time of the year in 1958, so I am currently going through the nostalgic reflections of a 50-year occupational adventure. I was barely 21 years old, completed all the applications, and somehow survived the initial testing process. I then got to go through the two-week (!) recruit indoctrination. Our “drillmaster” taught us how to operate the basic tools, how to roll hose (over and over), and how to hang on so we didn’t fall off the tailboard. There were a lot of “hows”—not many “whys” (in those days, a Booter didn’t ask why). When our class finished recruit school, I was assigned to Station One, the “big” downtown central fire station. It was a very large reinforced concrete two-story…

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