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Author and retired NYC firefighter Charles Farrell and family
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November 8, 2001 - A Firefighter's Story - Part 2
Welcome to 2TheHeart!
"Heroes rise from the masses, they are not mortal or of this earth.
Heroes are angels sent to us that simply occupy a human body. Their purpose is to remind us of all that can be achieved with the right attitude, determination and passion."
~Francine W.
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After the events of September 11th, many of us became acutely aware of firefighters and their great dedication to their jobs. There is none other like the brotherhood of firefighters, and last month's
Part One of Charles' story left us eager for more. Part Two shows
the more serious, and often heartbreaking aspect of this career.
"Firefighter's Story Part II"
by Charles Francis Farrell
Firefighting 101
Training school did a great job of preparing us to fight fires. But now it was time for the real thing. We have to serve six months on Probation where we are known as the Probie of our company. Every fireman will always remember his first big fire. Mine was at 4:00 A.M. on a cold winter morning.
The fire was in an Italian Bar and Restaurant on Woodhaven Boulevard. We were the first company to arrive. The restaurant was closed but you could see the black smoke through the windows. One of the brothers in the Truck Company slammed the big storefront window with a six-foot hook and glass went flying in every direction. The smoke came rolling out and the restaurant flashed into flames. Meanwhile we had hose charged with water and were moving in through the large opening of the broken window front.
Everything was happening fast. I can still remember the sounds of
voices over the handy-talkie scrambling out information and the
sirens of the incoming companies filling out what we call a second
alarm. I was more excited than scared, however it did feel strange
that we were going into an area where most people would be running out. The more fire we put out the darker it got and the more difficult it became breathing in the thick black smoke.
Meanwhile we kept moving in, pulling the heavy hose with us. Suddenly the ceiling lit up and flames were rolling over our head like waves of water in an ocean. The nozzleman quickly pointed the nozzle over his head knocking off his helmet in the process. We all struggled to help him keep control of the hoseline. You don't want the fire to get behind you as it can cut off your exit.
Fire fighting is like organized chaos. For outsiders looking on, it
looks like everyone is running around like a chicken with its head
cut off, when in actuality each fireman has a special assignment
according to when he arrives, first, second, third to arrive Engine
or Ladder Company. The thing is that each fireman is depending with his life that the other fireman will do his job, hence we call each other "Brothers."
The officer of any company, who has a Probe at a fire, watches over him like a Mother Hen. When you live, eat, sleep, depend on each other for your life and safety along with socializing together, you develop a deep sense of comradarie.
The Dark Side
It wasn't very long before I saw the dark side of the job. When It
was my turn to be the nozzleman on the hoseline one night I was
aiming the nozzle on a large body of fire in the living room of a
private home. As I extinguished the sofa fire, the area filled with
dark smoke. It's at this time that we are trained to shutdown the
nozzle and give the smoke a chance to clear. As the smoke cleared I had to rub my eyes to be sure of what I was seeing. It was an old lady sitting on the couch still holding a telephone in her hand next to her ear. Her eyes were open and she was staring at me with a horrifying expression. When you witness this experience without warning, you never forget it.
My Children...could be
The hardest thing to accept is the loss of little children. One
winter morning we responded to a call to a private home. It was six AM and there was a major snowstorm with accumulations of six to eight inches of fresh snow. The house was only a few blocks from the firehouse. When we arrived, the house was fully involved with fire and we knew if there was anyone in there we needed to get them out as quick as possible.
As it turned out three small children awakened before their parents. They apparently turned on the gas range that somehow ignited the kitchen curtains. Fearing that their parents would be angry with them, they hid in the second floor closet while their parents slept. The closet was located directly over the kitchen fire. The fire and smoke eventually awakened the parents.
Once they saw the children were not in their beds they searched
franticly. They finally left the burning house, hoping to find their
children outside. Once outside and not seeing their children, they
tried to go back into the house. The heat was too much. The burns on their arms and hands were testimony to their valiant attempt to save their children. It was about this time that we arrived. They were standing outside in the snow yelling to us that their children must be inside the house. When the fire was extinguished on the second floor I came down stairs and saw the bodies of three small children placed on the table where the firemen who found them tried unsuccessfully to revive them. I'll never forget that sight. They looked like little lifeless rag dolls lying on the table. For many of us the beads of sweat on our face could not hide the silent tears rolling down our cheeks.
This job can be very rewarding but there are days when you wish you could have done much more.
Charles Francis Farrell, Age: 65
Retired NY City Fire Department 1962-1985
E-mail: cfroe56@aol.com
Charles wrote Part 1 of his Firefighter's Story, and Part 3 will run
in January! Send this hero an email! If you missed Part One, you may read it by clicking on this link:
http://www.2theheart.com/oct25_01
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The Letter Box:
Hello Mary Emma.............Colored Leaves brought back an almost
forgotten dear thought of my mom. Long after her death nobody in our household could open a book without a ribbon, a tiny lock of hair, a maple leaf, a corsage, or even a bedraggled looking single daisy slide in our laps. As we watched dried petals flitter to the floor we wondered what precious meaning that daisy could possibly have had in her life. She had taught us all to say, "I love you, I love you not," and somehow I think this daisy represented a sweet and romantic time between she and dad. Write more soon.
~Kathe Campbell
bigskyadj@in-tch.com
Dear 2theheart,
BOTH "Colored Leaves" & "A Very Prest Help" were wonderful! These stories made my day so much better and as I went about my day, I thought about them a lot. I love 2theheart and all it's writers. They really are the best there is. Thank you.
~Joan Allen
Dear 2TheHeart,
What a lovely short story "Colored Leaves" was. It reminded me of
when I was a little girl and I would walk home from school in the
fall, srtopping to pick up the prettiest leaves fro my mother. We
always pressed them in the Bible and it is still fun to find the
leaves within it's pages. It's a reminder of a very happy childhood
and a mother who taught me to appreciate God's gifts in all things.
Sincerly,
~Jennifer
2THEHEART,
Mary-Ellen's story really stayed with me after I had read it. i
alwasy enjoy her stories and poetry and was really moved by "A Very Present Help".
Love,
~Geena
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