Interior firefighting for old guys

“You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

— Eleanor Roosevelt
 

When I joined the Guilderland Fire Department two years ago, I had no idea what to expect. Two weeks into it, I was on a call to a huge house fire, where my team put out fire in the garage.

After, at 3 a.m. in the dark of night at the parking lot back at the station, I remember being hosed down to wash the firefighting foam off my turnout gear, all the while thinking: What have I gotten myself into?

Since then, like the Grateful Dead sing, it’s been a long, strange trip, culminating with me having just achieved “Class A,” or interior firefighter status. Wow.

If you had told me ten, five, or even two years ago that, retired at age 66, I’d become trained and certified to enter burning buildings as a member of a volunteer fire department, I'd have looked at you like you had two heads. Really.

But once I dipped my toe into the firefighting world by volunteering, it just snowballed, and here I am today. I still can’t believe it myself.

At this point I’ve taken well over 200 hours of state-certified fire training in addition to weekly drills. I have learned so much about fire behavior and firefighting procedures, and so much more: knots, rope work, tools, teamwork under pressure, cooking for large groups, and going from street clothes to “on air” — that is, wearing full PPE [personal protective equipment] and breathing clean air from a back mounted air tank — in less than two minutes.

All of this training was free, though the effort and dedication it takes are truly monumental.

In my most recent interior firefighter training, to get us used to live fire, they put us in a room with the temperature at the ceiling of 800F. That’s 100F more than a pizza oven.

We had on turnout gear with every inch of skin protected. Plus we were breathing air from our SCBA (Self Contained Breathing Apparatus) packs. Still, you do feel how hot it is.

I honestly can’t tell you how long we were in there. It may have been a minute, it may have been five minutes, I don’t know, but I was sure glad to leave that burning cauldron.

Firefighter instructors are all about “blackout” drills. This is where your vision is obscured so you can’t see anything. When you consider that sight is 70 percent of your sensory input, you can imagine how disorienting this can be.

They do these drills because this is what a fire with thick, black smoke is like. You simply cannot see your hand in front of your face, so you have to prepare for it.

Where we train there is a building that has a maze in it. They turned off all the lights and we had to find our way out.

Then they put us in a metal shipping container filled with junk. In the container were fire hoses. You had to find the right hose, and then orient yourself on that hose by feeling the hose couplings (smooth-bump-bump, back to the pump) so you were going the right way.

At the same time, an instructor was hiding in the container with you, snaring you with nylon webbing, to simulate getting caught on something. You had to free yourself from that before moving on.

Prior to this training, situations like this would have freaked me out. After this training, I now realize that, when there is no actual fire with accompanying smoke and heat, it’s a whole level easier. Crawling around on your hands and knees in total darkness is actually kind of fun without the threat of dying from heat and smoke inhalation, if you can believe that.

The big drill for me was when my crew of three did a second-floor search and rescue. First we brought a 24-foot extension ladder to the building and set it up right below the window. Then I crawled up the ladder and got to the window.

There was a dense thick, gray smoke pouring out (no heat, this smoke was from a smoke machine, not actual live fire). I attached my air supply to my mask and then crawled into the room and went left. My partner did the same, but he went right.

At this point, you keep in touch with the wall while advancing around the room. In your other hand is some kind of a tool, like an axe. While moving around the room, you use the tool to search for victims.

Remember, while this search is going on you cannot see a blessed thing. Once you find the victim — in this case, a 150-pound adult human dummy — you move the victim to the window, lift him up, and transfer him out the window onto the ladder where the third member of the team brings him down. Then you crawl back out the window and lower yourself down the ladder.

The night of this drill we had many other difficult tasks that were quite physical involving hoses, ropes, tools, the maze, etc. When this night was over, I was as spent physically as I’ve even been in my entire life.

Let’s put it this way: That morning, I weighed myself and I was 211 pounds. When I returned home that night, even after eating three meals that day, I was 206 pounds. I literally lost 5 pounds in one night doing this training. Want to lose weight? Join the fire department!

There is a great word that is not used often, but it’s the perfect word to describe what all the brave men and women in the fire services do each and every day. That word is sangfroid.

It means keeping your composure, or staying cool, in dangerous or trying circumstances. The only way you can do this kind of work is to stay calm, not panic, and revert back to your training.

This is why most fire companies drill and train all the time. It’s the only way to stay sharp in the face of what is very dangerous and at the same time very satisfying work. To be on a team doing this kind of work is just amazing.

Keep in mind I’m doing all this at the ripe old age of 66. Fortunately, I’ve kept myself in pretty decent shape and I go to the gym whenever I can, but I’ll be honest with you: I can’t keep up with guys and girls half my age.

Sometimes I just have to stop, rest a bit, take a few deep breaths, and then continue on. I wish I could just go flat-out non-stop like the younguns, but it is what it is.

The main reason I went for interior fire training is because most volunteer firefighters have full-time jobs. This means that, during the day when a call comes in, there is not the turnout you would get if it were at night or on the weekend.

My thinking is, when the officer in the truck that is racing to the fire looks back to see who’s in there joining him or her on the call, they’d rather see a 66-year-old guy who has been trained than see nobody. I may not do it as fast or as long as the kids, but I can still do it.

I meet a lot of people around town who read this column. That’s great and I love talking to you. Having said that, I really don’t want to meet you when I’m performing my firefighting duties, for obvious reasons. To assist in this, I’m asking you to:

— Change your smoke detector batteries once a year;

— Don’t smoke in bed;

— Discard hazardous waste like solvent soaked rags accordingly;

— Keep your hallways and stairways clear at all times;

— Have a family fire safety meeting;

— Never leave a lit candle or fireplace unattended;

— Have several fire extinguishers on hand and know how to use them;

— Turn the stove and oven off when you are done cooking;

— Don’t overload electrical circuits; and

— If you have any device with a lithium ion battery, learn how to charge it correctly.

Volunteering for a local fire department is a great thing to do. You don’t have to be interior to help. There are many other roles; there is always some way to help, and they always need more volunteers.

Contact your local fire department to see how you can help, even if just to donate. It’s the right thing to do.

Let me leave you with “The Firefighter’s Prayer.” I found this in a book on firefighting. It is credited to Anonymous.

When I’m called to duty, God,

wherever flames may rage,

give me strength to save a life,

whatever be its age.
 

Help me to embrace a little child

before it is too late

or save an older person from

the horror of that fate.
 

Enable me to be alert

to hear the weakest shout

and quickly and efficiently

to put the fire out.
 

I want to fill my calling and

to give the best in me;

to guard my neighbors and

protect their property.
 

And if, according to your will,

While on duty, I must answer

death’s call,

less with your protecting hand

My family, one and all.