I couldn’t find my boots. I looked around the area in the fire station where I had stowed them away during the last fire drill, but I couldn’t find a trace. The air siren continued to wail. It undulated in that characteristic low to high pitch that I had thought I’d gotten used to since I’d joined the Sumner volunteer fire department. Now I hoped that I wouldn’t get a headache from it.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Max run to the fire truck. I grabbed the standard yellow overalls and jacket and tried to climb on board. With the other firemen on board it was too crowded. Lenny shouted, "Let’s take my truck." We ran over to his pick-up. Lenny and Max jumped into the cab. The fire truck pulled out of the station as I rolled over into the back of Lenny’s truck. We shot out of the station into the night.

I had been a member of the fire department since I’d returned to my hometown to work as a high school teacher, but for over a year the closest I’d come to a fire would have been the times we grilled steaks at the station. Of course I’d been to the monthly drill meetings, but as we rushed down the highway I felt unprepared and fearful of the unknown. The January night air felt brisk against my skin as I fumbled with the overalls and coat to get them on. This was hampered by my need to grab the side of the truck each time we made a turn.

We pulled into the yard adjacent to the house on fire. It was a small house in a poor area of town. Smoke billowed out from under the edge of the roof. Leonard, one of the local policemen, was already at the side of the house prying at the electric meter to try to disconnect it to reduce the chance of electrocution with all the water that might be used.

I jumped out of Lenny’s truck and headed for the fire truck. The fire chief saw me. He grabbed the end of hose #2, thrust it towards me and shouted, "Here! Move!"

I grabbed the hose. I moved.

First I ran parallel to the fence that was next to the house to fully straighten out the hose. I then ran toward the house on the side where Leonard was still struggling with the power meter. I passed the end of the hose to Leonard’s son who was on the other side of the fence.

The owner of the house walked up to us. She asked why we weren’t spraying down the house. I told her that without the power cut off it would be too dangerous. She stepped back sobbing quietly.

Smoke continued to billow out. Lenny and another fireman put on their air packs and masks. Since smoke has a tendency to rise, the floor is often the best place to be for the best visibility. They dropped to their hands and knees and crawled through the front door to check for the cause of the fire.

They came out with what remained of a mattress and an electric space heater. Apparently someone had placed them too close together. They snaked a hose into the house and sprayed down the area to stop the fire. They worked carefully since Leonard never managed to get the meter cover off. With the smoke reduced to a few puffs they put up some fans to vent the house of smoke.

One of my former students, Marcus, arrived with the fire truck from Webb, the neighboring town. He walked up beside me. "It looks like ya’ll have this under control." I nodded.

When it was over I helped roll up the hoses. As I straightened out the hose I found myself walking through a muddy ditch filled with raw sewage. My tennis shoes disappeared into the muck. Back at the truck I felt a strange pinching on my upper arm. I took off the heavy fireman’s jacket and found my watchband had broken and the watch had worked its way up my arm. I didn’t really feel like much of a fireman.

Back at the station I helped stow away the gear. When we finished I went home. On the way in I took off my tennis shoes and threw them into the garbage can.

The next morning around 6 a.m. I heard the siren again. Normally I would be getting up around that time anyway to prepare for class, but this was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and I had been looking forward to getting some late sleep. This was especially true since I had gotten back after midnight.

Again I found myself at the station grabbing gear. I put on the coveralls and jacket that I’d packed away just a few hours before but this time I grabbed a brand new pair of size 10 fire boots and jumped on the fire truck. Again we shot out of the station with lights flashing and another siren in my ear. We went back to the same house. Perhaps some embers had flared up.

This time the entire structure was ablaze. Sheets of flame lapped up the sides of the house. As we approached I jumped off the fire truck and tore open the plastic wrapper around the boots. I hastily put them on and grabbed hose #2 again. As I approached the house I found myself squinting, not from the light but from the heat of the blaze. It felt like my face was directly over a white hot charcoal grill. Even 20 to 30 yards away the heat was so intense that the paint on the neighboring houses peeled away. We saw that the lawn, brown and dry from the winter weather, was also ablaze. The fire flowed slowly outward on the grass forming a black ring around the house.

As we assembled our gear a crackle filled the air and a large blue flame shot from the side of the house. Apparently the fire accomplished what Leonard couldn’t the previous night. The power meter had exploded from the heat.

We saw the flames approach the house’s outside propane tank. Billy jumped on top of the fire engine and activated the deluge gun, the main central nozzle of the truck. As soon as the water hit the metal of the tank it hissed and sizzled with steam flowing upward. We prayed that the water would keep the tank below its flashpoint.

As soon as I straightened out the hose I signaled that I was ready. The limp hose came alive in my hands as the water rushed in. I pointed the nozzle forward and flipped the lever to open the valve. The pressure pushed me backward. I opened up my stance and ground in my heels to recover my balance. I first sprayed the burning grass under me and around me as I approached the house. When I got close enough I sprayed the structure directly, sweeping the nozzle rhythmically back and forth. I saw the other fire engine from Webb on the other side of the house join in the struggle.

With the two fire engines there we were able to contain the fire. Just as we ran out of water the fire died down. We all stared at the remaining hulk. Again we packed away the hoses, crowbars, pikes and wrenches that are tools of the trade. I found myself drenched in sweat from the combination of the intensity of the heat and the heavy jacket and coveralls I had on. Briefly, I actually felt like a fireman.

I’m in my bed about to go to sleep. It is about 11:40 p.m. I hear something vaguely familiar outside. I put on my pants and go to the front door. When I open it I hear the wail of the fire siren. I hastily put on my shoes and a thin sweatshirt. I figure I will be putting on the jacket and overalls soon and that time is of the essence.

I jump into my Jeep and rush towards the fire station. As I cross the railroad tracks I see a red flash to my left. I gamble that it is from the fire truck and I decide to follow it since I don’t know where the fire is and can’t waste time going to the station to get my gear. I am correct. It is the fire truck.

I see a pink glow as we approach the lumberyard. "Oh no," I think to myself. I pull my Jeep off the side of the road so as not to block the way in for other fire engines. I run after our fire engine and hope that it’s really not the lumberyard. It’s not. But the house that is ablaze is directly behind the lumberyard and it’s going fast. Flames shoot out of all the windows on all the sides I can see. Smoke billows up from under the eaves of the roof.

John starts organizing us. "Straighten out that hose," he bellows. "Move that line," he demands. We can’t find the fireplug. A policeman says there’s one on the other side of the house. John tells me to follow the policeman to where it is. We run past the burning house. I raise my arm to shield my face from the heat. We get to the fence at the back and see that Joe Lee is already back there near the plug. I run to the front of the house and point out where it is but Lenny already has the supply hose in hand and is rushing to the right to go around the fence to get to the plug.

I move to the right side of the house and help straighten out hoses. John activates the deluge gun on top of the fire engine and we are all hit as the water falls all around us. Unfortunately I am the only one not wearing coveralls and a jacket. I am drenched. Lenny grabs a hose and moves to the right of the house. I move with him to help carry it. My glasses bead up with water and I have difficulty seeing. I think the hose is being activated, but I am mistaken. Lenny runs to the truck and tells John to turn it on.

Robert and Pat are now at the right side of the house and are hosing down the area. I move back to the fire engine to clear my glasses. Lenny goes to the front corner on the left side of the house and sprays through a bedroom window. The fire is dampened. Lenny moves around to survey the scene. I see that the fire on the left corner is starting up again so I run to the hose and hit the lever. I go to the bedroom window and stick the nozzle just through the opening but I do not put my head in since the roof above and to the right is still on fire and I don’t want to be under it if it collapses. Some of the Webb firefighters hit the fire above me as I hose down the corner of the bedroom where I can see the orange flames.

When it looks like the fire is dampened again John shouts something to me. I can’t hear him. Lenny walks up tells me John says to adjust the nozzle to a mist and run it in a circle through the window to coat the whole area. After about 3 minutes of this I notice a glow from the back corner of the house. I see that the area around the side door is still on fire. I point the nozzle up and spray the fires that I can see. The ceiling is collapsed and I can see there is a bit of fire on the other side of the doorframe. I can’t hit it directly so I point the nozzle upward and rain the water in a wide arc from above.

By now the fire is mostly out. We move around the house as Lenny inspects the area. Lenny has a pike in hand. It is almost identical to the medieval pike from the days of armored combat. It is a rod about 5 feet long with a point and hook on the end. Lenny pushes aside pieces of collapsed, corrugated tin to try to uncover any missed pockets of fire. I hold his flashlight to illuminate the sections of interest. Pat sprays the smoldering sections that he can spot.

We find a smoldering section at the back corner. Lenny climbs up two steps at the door with a hose in hand as I stand behind him with the flashlight. He hits the lever and the force rocks him backward. I put my hand on his back to steady him and then grab the hose that’s behind him to reduce the pressure on his hands.

Lenny and John discuss if the fire can be declared over. As we make another sweep Pat notices that more smoke is coming out of his section than he is comfortable with. He thinks there might be a smoldering pocket still in the center of the house. I get on my belly and look under the house. I see the all too familiar red glow of embers. I guide Pat to the spot where I see the embers. He points his nozzle under the house and hits it. I am now very tired and very wet.

I walk back to the fire engine. John jokes that they will have to thaw me out. I tell him that I can’t stay out anymore. He says that they will roll up the hoses and pack up the gear later. I climb into my Jeep. As I drive home I see that the bank clock says 1:15 a.m. and 41^oF. I take off my soggy clothes and dump them in front of the washing machine. I shower and then go to bed and wonder what the next day will bring.

-February 12, 2000

-Jay E. Gee

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