On Fire ❘ by Michael N. Ciampo
Some days are good, some are bad, some are better than others; some days are hectic and filled with call after call of nonstop action. Some also can be plain boring and filled with tedious administrative duties; but, as soon as the tones strike, whistle blows, or bells ring, we’ll never know the extent of the call we are responding to until we arrive. While responding, we often get updates or additional information, which helps us begin our mental size-up; when we arrive, it’s either spot on or totally incorrect. Additionally, the people we’ll have to deal with will be different ages, ethnicities, and genders who deal with panic, trauma, emergencies, or fires in many ways.
As our night tour progressed, we encountered an irate male who was trapped in a stalled elevator. We could see him and communicate with him through the small window on the hoistway doors, but he didn’t want to pay much attention to us. We asked him a few times to shut the emergency bell off, but he just kept using words not fit to print to hurry up and get him out of the car.
As we worked with the elevator key and awaited power removal, he went into his next rhetoric about what took us so long to get there as he pulled on the interior door. Realizing we might be dealing with someone possibly overserved with alcohol, we managed to keep our cool and removed him from the elevator. He let us know that he had friends in the mayor’s office and that they’d be getting a phone call. One of the guys jokingly reached into his bunker coat and said, “Here’s my cell if you want to call,” as the guy stumbled off.
Returning to quarters and to our cold plates of food, most of us just dove right back into eating before the alarm tones went off again. A few bites in, another call for a fire had come in for a notorious false alarm address. We’d already been to this address twice tonight and figured it was a young kid calling it in because it normally stopped around kids’ bedtime. Slowly trudging up to the fifth floor, we found it to be another false alarm. Most of us were starting to get worked up with this social prankster.
On the next run, for a reported candle on fire, most of us thought we’d be going to work. While we were responding, some astute driver who saw the big red truck with bright flashing lights coming toward the intersection decided to block the intersection so he’d get through before the traffic signal changed. Now, we couldn’t get through, and the rest of the law-abiding citizens wouldn’t go through the red light and sat motionless. With a few loud bursts of the air horn, we still weren’t making any progress toward our destination. As the “box blocker” gave us a nasty look, some choice words, and the “middle finger,” he started to finally reposition his vehicle. Since his window was wide open, we gave him a friendly burst of the air horn as we passed him. Luckily for us, the tenant threw a pot of water on the burning nightstand, and we used the pressurized water can to wash down the smoldering aftermath and check for extension.
The shift was nonstop with its vast array of calls. As we responded to the last call of the tour, everyone really just wanted to get relieved and shower. As we were walking into the building, a tenant met us in the street complaining of an odor in the lobby and basement. Since we were right at the front door, we decided to check there first. As we metered the atmosphere, we overheard the caller ask the engine officer if a specific firefighter was working. His broken English was a bit difficult to understand, but the nickname he kept referring to sounded oddly familiar. We heard the engine boss say, “That’s him right over there.” Then we heard, “He saved my wife and baby.” Trying to stay focused on determining the odor, we said we’d speak with him soon. However, the memories of a good job here years ago started returning.
The rescue performed was relatively simple—moving along the wall using the thermal imaging camera in complete darkness in the oversized lobby toward the screams of panic. We found the fire apartment door wide open and controlled it, but we still heard screams coming from an adjoining apartment. Quickly forcing that door, we noticed smoke had filled this entire apartment and a mother and an infant were lying on the floor under the smoke. Realizing the apartment didn’t allow us to shelter them in place and we had to still operate in the fire apartment, it was time to quickly remove them. Luckily, with the bulkhead and the front door open, the smoke lifted four feet off the floor; with a blanket wrapped around their heads, we quickly removed them. Next, the whole company reassembled in the fire apartment and continued with their duties until the fire was extinguished.
Years later, a civilian we swore to protect and serve still remembered us. He showed us his only child on his cell phone screen saver, thanked us again, told us to remain safe, blessed us, and shook our hands. A moment like that made us proud that we were able to perform up to the highest standards of the job and that a family can wake up daily giving thanks for our service.
MICHAEL N. CIAMPO is a 32-year veteran of the fire service and a lieutenant in the Fire Department of New York. Previously, he served with the District of Columbia Fire Department. He has a bachelor’s degree in fire science from John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City. He is the lead instructor for the FDIC Truck Essentials H.O.T. program. He wrote the Ladders and Ventilation chapters for Fire Engineering’s Handbook for Firefighter I and II (Fire Engineering, 2009) and the Bread and Butter Portable Ladders DVD and is featured in “Training Minutes” truck company videos on www.FireEngineering.com.
