Two Sides; One Coin

Staring the Beast Straight in the Eye

A fictional side story to a real-life epic battle

Lance sighed. He hated these things.

Well, he thought, that’s not entirely true. He did like bringing the fire engine out to community events and meeting people in the neighborhood. That wasn’t the issue. It was just that the events were often in the evening, and if their shift had been busy (like today) that often meant that dinner wouldn’t happen until much later tonight.

His mind wandered to the lick of flames of the barbecue that would perfectly sear the flank steak they had marinating back at the fire station. Sully had brought in her famous home-made blue cheese dressing for the giant salad, already prepped and waiting for them to be done and get back to the station.

As Lance willed the saliva to not seep out of his mouth, he eyed the dwindling line of community members waiting to try their hand at using a fire extinguisher to put out the flames in the combustible liquid trough at the fire department drill field.

This event was often one of the highlights of the citizens’ academy the department put on each quarter. Second only to climbing the aerial ladder, facing up some real flames — staring at the beast — was always a crowd favorite, and tonight was the night.

So far, so good. These things always went pretty smoothly. No one ever got hurt, but they still had some pretty aggressive safety measures in place. Lance, as captain of the fire engine was the safety officer and kept a wary eye on everything going on.

Sully, the pipeman — damn; wait, pipewoman. Or, pipeperson? Well, the firefighter that rode in the back of the engine and always operated the high-pressure hose line when they attacked a fire. Anyway, whatever you call her — she had a charged hand line at the ready in case anything went sideways in the drill.

One quick blast with the 200 GPM fog nozzle would douse that trough fire instantly.

Lance thought about his 25 years on the department, 17 now as captain. Nothing now was too difficult, surprising or out of the ordinary. Hell, the hardest part of the job these days is being Politically Correct enough to remember what to call the firefighter that rode on the back.

When Lance first started on the job there hadn’t been any women firefighters. That had changed over the years, and for the positive. The women on the job were just as well-trained and motivated, and worked just as hard as anyone else.

In fact, Sully was an all-star, and not just for her blue cheese dressing recipe either. She earned the vaunted “Bulldog” award in the fire academy, and graduated top of her class. Once assigned in company proved that she was great in real life too; handling not only firefighting tasks with ease, but also had a knack with the medical side as an EMT.

Smitty, the fire engine driver, had been on the job even longer than Lance. Never aspiring to do more than drive the engine and run the pump at fires, Smitty was a study in patience. He walked each person through the steps of the drill, coaching them to “Pull” the safety pin on the extinguisher, “Aim” at the fire, “Squeeze” the handle and “Sweep” the extinguisher nozzle side to side pushing the fire away until it was ultimately extinguished.

Smitty was calm and reassuring; even the most skittish participant would eventually feel at ease facing down the flames with Smitty by their side and gently coaching in their ear. Lance felt lucky to have both him and Sully on his crew.

Only four people stood between the fire crew and their blackened flank steak and blue cheese salad nirvana.

Lance eyed the woman next in line. She had asked a lot of questions during the spin-up for the event. She seemed pretty stoked to be here. And determined.

If there ever was a civilian that looked like they were ready to run headlong at the beast, casting themselves into the fiery depths to tame the hell fires and rise triumphant as a phoenix from the ashes, it was her.

Lance caught Sully’s eye, and with a head nod and eyebrow twitch sent a “let’s keep an eye on this one” signal about the woman. Sully nodded, tightened her grip on the nozzle bale and moved a half step closer to the flame trough.

Between each person’s go at the flame prop, Smitty would open the valve that released a little more of the fuel mixture into the trough before he lit it off. If he was a bit heavy-handed, it could be a real challenge to extinguish the whole trough with one extinguisher.

Just as Smitty opened the valve, the radio tones went off, signaling a residential fire. Smitty’s mind couldn’t help focusing on the dispatch, catching the address and noticing that it was on the other end of the city. They wouldn’t need to go — unless things got really out of hand.

Snapping back into the here and now, Smitty turned off the fuel valve, not sure now how long he had held it open. Oh well, this one might be exciting!

Lance watched Smitty walk the woman through the steps; just as patient now as ever. Lance noticed how her hand repeatedly tightened and released on the extinguisher nozzle; she was jazzed.

Now it was time to go. Smitty used the propane torch nozzle to touch off the fuel trough — whoosh! Up it went, definitely more flame-on than for previous evolutions.

Perhaps it was the towering flame column or some sort of fog of war, but the woman clearly forgot Smitty’s warning not to move forward until he had taken position at her side. She Pulled the extinguisher pin and with a battle cry that would have rattled rafters, had there been any, she charged the fire trough.

She Aimed, Squeezed and Swept with all her being.

It wasn’t a fair fight, as Smitty had accidentally released so much fuel that no single extinguisher (no matter by whom it was wielded) was going to put out that fire. Undaunted the woman pushed on, as if sheer will power might be enough to extinguish the inferno alone.

And it almost was. The woman had the fire mostly pinned to the back of the trough before the extinguisher gave up its last blast of monoammonium phosphate. As she leaned over to attempt to push the fire out by Thrusting (not part of PASS, mind you) the nozzle at the last flames, Lance saw Sully considering whether she should open up the hand line and thoroughly douse both woman and the remaining fire.

By then though, Smitty had managed to close his mouth and erase the wildly amused smile from his lips and was gently urging the woman back from the trough as the flames regained intensity, burning up the remaining excess fuel.

With near calamity avoided, the last of the participants got their chance at the prop and the exercise wound down. As Lance and Smitty reloaded the hose line onto the back of the engine, Lance noticed that the woman had Sully cornered and was asking lots of questions. He watched Sully walk to the front of the engine and grab a business card from the dash and give it to the woman.

Finally, they were on the way home to the station. They were all famished. Lance couldn’t wait to get the barbecue fired up so they could have dinner; it was almost 8:30 pm. Sully was just telling Lance and Smitty over the engine headsets that she had encouraged the woman to apply to become a firefighter. She would be a kick-ass addition to the force.

That’s when the tones went off. Medic response — someone wasn’t breathing. Smitty flipped on the lights and siren.

Dinner was going to have to wait. Again.

Read Holly Jahangiri’s story above. The saga continues…

Timothy Key spent over 26 years in the fire service as a firefighter/paramedic and various fire chief management roles. He firmly believes that bad managers destroy more than companies, and good managers create a passion that is contagious. Compassion, grace and gratitude drive the world; or at least they should. Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, and join the mail list.