This is another tale that made the news, so I’ll dispense with the hayseed sitcom geographic references in favor of the real names.
Friday night, I had rescue duty. In an unusual night, we had 0 calls. Butt-picking is nice, but it’s also aggravating because I don’t sleep well waiting for the page that never comes. Little did I know then that I’d get my fill this weekend anyway.
On the home front, VWife is now fostering 2 puppies, and Freya is jealous. Out of spite, she’s pooping in the house whenever she thinks she can get away with it. This is causing a bit of a battle, because VWife won’t clean up after the dog, and leaves it for me. I’ve been shampooing carpet for 3 days straight, a little bit at a time.
Sunday morning, I awoke to dog shit tracked through the house, and through an area I had just cleaned. I flipped out, because I had to shampoo yet again. :mad: Cleaned up the dog doo, and finished the last of the unrelated carpet I wanted to do anyway.
So what’s the point of something so mundane? The joke in the house is that whenever I break out the carpet cleaner, there’s a fire page. It happened yesterday, too, but with a time delay. I had enough time between the end of the carpet jobs and my page to eat brekkie and read the paper.
As I sat down on the couch to read, the first page went out for the Sunbury (Crabwell Cove normally) and Hobbsville (never been named) departments for a brush fire on the east side of the county, near the Great Dismal Swamp Wildlife Reserve. I listened with interest, half expecting my department to get called, too.
Just as I finished the paper, Rescue was paged for the same fire, and the scheduled crew was already out on a run. I called in, and went to the Rescue station. With fires, the Rescue squad will be on the scene to treat the firemen, injured victims, and about anything else necessary, including directing traffic. The time was about 11:30 AM.
I hopped into the Foomobile, and got out to the major east-west road through the county, US 158. I could see the smoke at that time, and I was still 15 miles away. This was going to be a L O- O- O- O-NG day.
As a side note, the winds were brutal. Easily 30 MPH sustained, with higher gusts. Any flame bigger than a candle would be fanned into an inferno in short order, and that’s what happened here. The blaze soon covered 100+ acres.
I rode the crash truck, which holds all of the tools we would ever need for extracting people from cars or collapsed buildings. It also makes a great barricade, because it’s as big as a fire truck, although in it’s first life, it was used to deliver beer. You guessed it, I had traffic duty.
The fire was near Acorn Hill Road, and that’s how we refered to it. At first, we were at the intersection of Acorn Hill Road and 158, north of the fire. Traffic was still getting in, so when another rescue member showed up in his car at the intersection, we were sent south to find the leak and cut it off.
We went right through the fire on the way. Kind of scary, and very difficult to see through the smoke. When we got about a half mile south of the fire, there was a long line of cars coming north, into the fire we just came out of. I got my first taste of just how thankless my task would be. We had to tell each and every driver to turn back, because they could not go past the truck. Some got huffy because they were using the road as a shortcut to go to Elizabeth City; others were homeowners in the line of the fire who wanted to get valuables out of their houses. That was tough, because I understood their reasons, but they were also in danger doing so. All had to go back, and did.
We found the leaking intersection about 2 miles south, and blocked it. At first, the order was NO ONE gets in unless they’re emergency responders. A lot of people tried to talk their way past me, and I told them, “Unless He has a badge or flashing lights, God doesn’t get past me.” Pretty shocking statement for a Baptist to hear, and a lot of them heard it.
Soon we had 6 vehicles parked along the road waiting to be let in. The occupants were shaking, crying, catatonic, or of the attitude “Shit happens”, and most of them went through each in turn. Particularly heartbreaking was one old couple that lived about a half mile south of the fire. They didn’t care about their house or possessions, except for their mementos of their daughter who was a murder victim.
They sat at the intersection for about 20 minutes watching and quivering. James, my partner, and I aren’t heartless bastards, despite our orders. We told them they could go to their house, and they had 10 minutes to grab what they could, and I would accompany them. We gathered pictures, teddy bears, a bible, and a few other things of the daughter’s, put them in a laundry basket, and got out. Their house actually wasn’t in much danger, because the fire was burning away to the north and east, and there was a plowed field in the way besides.
After I got back, we could let through people to help evacuate homes within our sight, which was about a mile to the north.
To backtrack the story a bit, about a half hour after we set up the southern roadblock, I heard the first page for my department, for tanker support. About 10 minutes after that, the rest of the station was paged to come to this conflagration. From my vantage point, I could see smoke go black, meaning the fire was heating up, go white which meant the fire crews were getting a handle on it, and the point of origin moving consistently east. It must have done the white black white transition a half dozen times while we watched.
To the south, we could see another fire going in Perquimmons County, too. Chowan and Hertford Counties had fires, and all were calling each other asking for mutual assistance, and none could answer because he had to handle our own first.
Then it happened. A page for another brush fire, about 10 miles northwest, on Middle Swamp Road. James and I stayed where we were, because Acorn Hill wasn’t close to being under control. My department went to that one.
About 20 minutes after that, another fire on Drum Hill Road, and yet another one close to that on Hazleton Road. My wife called to check on me, and said we had no power.
About Drum Hill finally wound down a bit, and we were sent to Drum Hill. It was roughly 4 pm. That one was an arson, because one of my tasks was to run evidence bags from the deputy’s car back to the fire crew. They found the remains of a Molotov Cocktail. This fire, and the one nearby on Hazleton were arson. While we were blocking the road for Drum hill, a redneck stoner kid stood around us flipping out, saying he was going to prison because he gave someone else the fireworks that started the big 'un. So now we had 3 that were either absolutely intentional, or the result of felonious stupidity.
One of the ambulances came by, with a bushel basket of sammiches. Bologna isn’t a favorite, but I don’t dislike it, either; I do hate common yellow mustard, and I also shy away from white bread. That was the best thing I had ever eaten in my life.
After taking some air bottles to be filled for the fire crew, came a page for power lines down along US 13, with fire. James and I were sent to that, and directed traffic there. We gave all who asked directions at the detour, and that was a lot of cars to handle. One lady saw the roadblock and got out her driver’s license to show me.
“What’s that for?”
“Don’t you want to check it?”
“No ma’am. I’m a fireman, not a cop.”
We did that for about 45 minutes, and the sun went down. All I had was a sweatshirt on, and it was getting cold. The Rescue Zone Car came by with yet a different load of sammiches, and I borrowed a jacket. We were given the all clear, and started back to the barn.
You guessed it, another page for a brush fire. I jumped, because it was given AS MY ADDRESS. James did an excellent job turning that retreaded beer truck around, and away we went. I was confused, because there’s no brush on my property, and this wasn’t a structure fire.
I called the wife, and she said it was at the creek, the same place the loggers were working a couple of weeks ago. We came around the turn, and we could see it from 2 miles. It was the creek, and my place wasn’t in the way. Whew!
This was another tree in the power fire, and it explains why we were blacked out. I thought that the tree on 13 did it, but it wasn’t. That fire was out quickly, and I’ll try to take a couple of shots tonight of the aftermath.
While I was home, I grabbed my own coat, and gave Tollie his jacket back. It was much appreciated. We cleared the scene, went back to the rescue station, and I was home soon after. It was about 8 PM.
With the blackout, I spent my time finding the lamp oil, restocking the firewood, and my radios were near dead, so I had to put an inverter in my car to charge them since that was the only source of power. When I walked Freya the last time, the power company trucks came down the road, and we had power around 9:30.
In all, we had 6 fires, 3 of which were arson, one stupidly accidental, and 2 downed trees taking out power lines. Every bit of equipment in all 6 county fire departments were out of the house. My scalp is sunburned, and I’m still dehydrated from standing out in the wind all day.
Any bets that I’ll have The Sick this time next week?
) RAchestarian checking in!
:mad: )
