Or the story of the second mouse getting the cheese.
My fire department has meetings on the second and fourth Mondays of each month, with the fourth Monday meeting also serving dinner. Last night was our dinner meeting. What with the day being Memorial Day and everything, I had worked and played hard already. A short canoeing trip, coupled with some points scored against the honeydo list, cooking in general for the week’s lunches, and laundry had me a tuckered boy by the time I had to go.
I just sat down in the car when the radio crackled; a Hooterville member was calling in to the dispatcher about a shed on fire, and the house was starting. I knew the address, and also knew we were going to be paged. As soon as the Foomobile started, I flipped on my light, and by the time I was out of the driveway, the pager went off.
The dinner meeting is relevant to this tale, because the station was full already. I passed the engine I normally ride outbound to the fire as I was getting to the station, it had a full crew already. Harrumph. I went inside for my gear, intent on taking the Foomobile, when I realized the ladder truck was being prepped. Cool, a classy ride.
We got to the scene, and since I rode that truck, my initial loyalty was there, until directed otherwise. I helped set the truck up, which consists of placing 6 large, inch thick metal plates on the ground for the outriggers to stand on to elevate the truck off the ground. When that was done, I started to look around for an officer for direction, because I’m a hose puller, not ladder crew.
My, how things change, and quickly. The ladder truck requires a crew of 4; and there are 6 guys who run it regularly. Last night, however, only 3 went to the scene, and one of them was playing line officer.
“Who wants to go in the bucket with Matt?” I can’t do a Spock eyebrow to save my life, but I sure tried.
“I’ll go!” Hell yeah, I’ll do it.
I was handed the safety harness and an air pack, and put them on. Several times actually, because all of the hoses and lines kept tangling. I think only an astronaut in a space suit has more crap dangling and things to take care of.
When I was ready, finally, the bucket came to the ground for me to get in. I tripped in the process, just like the old stage pratfall. Then I couldn’t figure out how to clip the harness to the eyebolt; Matt showed me how to open it, and when that was done, I looked out. Holy shit, we were already 40 feet in the air.
As I mentioned, the fire started in a shed and spread to the house, travelling through the ceiling/roof space. The end where the fire started had collapsed with big ol’ flames shooting up, and the other end was smoking fiercely. From the bucket, and given the water pressure available, we were good for about 2/3rds of the roof. It took Matt and I about 20 minutes to douse what we could hit, and that knocked out all of the flame visible from the ground, leaving several hotspots. We were in the air for better than an hour, supporting the crews inside.
There are some real trade-offs to manning the bucket. For once, I didn’t come home smelling like the fire scene, but there’s no way to take a break up in the air. Standing in one spot for an hour or more wearing 80 pounds of gear isn’t easy, and I was sore already from canoeing. The view from on high is spectacular, and we did a lot of directing for the ground guys.
We finally came down, and tore down the equipment. While hauling airpacks to be put away, I heard, “Hey Bob!” It was Kayleigh, one of the rescue juniors, who I’ve had on ambulance calls with me.
“Hey there…” I replied.
“That’s my house…” :eek:
Until she said that, I didn’t know who the homeowners were. I had spotted her and her mom both while we were working, but I thought they were part of the crowd to that point. I reached out to give her a hug, she took it.
“Eeew! You’re all wet!”
“Hon, I just put out your fire. It’s part of the job.”
“And I thank you for it, but it’s still gross.” 
When I sought out Sonya, her mom, for a hug of her own, I warned her I was wet. She said it was a badge of honor. 
Have I mentioned that I hate arsonists? This was another suspected arson; the shed where it started had no power or inflammables inside to light off unmaliciously. The homeowner is the manager of the Hooterville General Store, and she has a reputation for prosecuting shoplifters and check bouncers; there was a lot of speculation that this was a revenge action for one of those cases.
We got back to the station a little after 9:30, and finally got to eat our dinner. The business meeting was called off, and one other wag besides me tried to talk the chief into logging the call as training time, too. Most every one ate quickly and went home to shower.
I made my lunch for today, walked the dogs, and took my own shower. Nekkid as a jaybird when done, I went to put on some shorts for bed, and we were toned again. Dammit. I dressed, and headed for the station. The page was for the same fire scene. A hot spot had developed, and flame was visible once more.
The radio traffic was heavy, fortunately. One of the Hooterville officers lives nearby, and went directly to the scene. By the time I got to the station, he made the call for Mayberry to disregard, and scaled back their own response to one truck. I stopped at the station, made sure I got checked off for responding, and got home at about 11:30.
I still want to be a groundpounder hose puller, you can’t beat it for the pucker factor. Yet, I’ve said many times that I want to be cross-trained so I can fill in where and whenever it’s needed, and this is a blaring example of why. I guess I’ll have to get a bigger and brassier pair than the ones I already have, because I have to learn rappeling to be able to be part of the regular ladder crew. More fun lies ahead.Or the story of the second mouse getting the cheese.
My fire department has meetings on the second and fourth Mondays of each month, with the fourth Monday meeting also serving dinner. Last night was our dinner meeting. What with the day being Memorial Day and everything, I had worked and played hard already. A short canoeing trip, coupled with some points scored against the honeydo list, cooking in general for the week’s lunches, and laundry had me a tuckered boy by the time I had to go.
I just sat down in the car when the radio crackled; a Hooterville member was calling in to the dispatcher about a shed on fire, and the house was starting. I knew the address, and also knew we were going to be paged. As soon as the Foomobile started, I flipped on my light, and by the time I was out of the driveway, the pager went off.
The dinner meeting is relevant to this tale, because the station was full already. I passed the engine I normally ride outbound to the fire as I was getting to the station, it had a full crew already. Harrumph. I went inside for my gear, intent on taking the Foomobile, when I realized the ladder truck was being prepped. Cool, a classy ride.
We got to the scene, and since I rode that truck, my initial loyalty was there, until directed otherwise. I helped set the truck up, which consists of placing 6 large, inch thick metal plates on the ground for the outriggers to stand on to elevate the truck off the ground. When that was done, I started to look around for an officer for direction, because I’m a hose puller, not ladder crew.
My, how things change, and quickly. The ladder truck requires a crew of 4; and there are 6 guys who run it regularly. Last night, however, only 3 went to the scene, and one of them was playing line officer.
“Who wants to go in the bucket with Matt?” I can’t do a Spock eyebrow to save my life, but I sure tried.
“I’ll go!” Hell yeah, I’ll do it.
I was handed the safety harness and an air pack, and put them on. Several times actually, because all of the hoses and lines kept tangling. I think only an astronaut in a space suit has more crap dangling and things to take care of.
When I was ready, finally, the bucket came to the ground for me to get in. I tripped in the process, just like the old stage pratfall. Then I couldn’t figure out how to clip the harness to the eyebolt; Matt showed me how to open it, and when that was done, I looked out. Holy shit, we were already 40 feet in the air.
As I mentioned, the fire started in a shed and spread to the house, travelling through the ceiling/roof space. The end where the fire started had collapsed with big ol’ flames shooting up, and the other end was smoking fiercely. From the bucket, and given the water pressure available, we were good for about 2/3rds of the roof. It took Matt and I about 20 minutes to douse what we could hit, and that knocked out all of the flame visible from the ground, leaving several hotspots. We were in the air for better than an hour, supporting the crews inside.
There are some real trade-offs to manning the bucket. For once, I didn’t come home smelling like the fire scene, but there’s no way to take a break up in the air. Standing in one spot for an hour or more wearing 80 pounds of gear isn’t easy, and I was sore already from canoeing. The view from on high is spectacular, and we did a lot of directing for the ground guys.
We finally came down, and tore down the equipment. While hauling airpacks to be put away, I heard, “Hey Bob!” It was Kayleigh, one of the rescue juniors, who I’ve had on ambulance calls with me.
“Hey there…” I replied.
“That’s my house…” :eek:
Until she said that, I didn’t know who the homeowners were. I had spotted her and her mom both while we were working, but I thought they were part of the crowd to that point. I reached out to give her a hug, she took it.
“Eeew! You’re all wet!”
“Hon, I just put out your fire. It’s part of the job.”
“And I thank you for it, but it’s still gross.”
When I sought out Sonya, her mom, for a hug of her own, I warned her I was wet. She said it was a badge of honor.
Have I mentioned that I hate arsonists? This was another suspected arson; the shed where it started had no power or inflammables inside to light off unmaliciously. The homeowner is the manager of the Hooterville General Store, and she has a reputation for prosecuting shoplifters and check bouncers; there was a lot of speculation that this was a revenge action for one of those cases.
We got back to the station a little after 9:30, and finally got to eat our dinner. The business meeting was called off, and one other wag besides me tried to talk the chief into logging the call as training time, too. Most every one ate quickly and went home to shower.
I made my lunch for today, walked the dogs, and took my own shower. Nekkid as a jaybird when done, I went to put on some shorts for bed, and we were toned again. Dammit. I dressed, and headed for the station. The page was for the same fire scene. A hot spot had developed, and flame was visible once more.
The radio traffic was heavy, fortunately. One of the Hooterville officers lives nearby, and went directly to the scene. By the time I got to the station, he made the call for Mayberry to disregard, and scaled back their own response to one truck. I stopped at the station, made sure I got checked off for responding, and got home at about 11:30.
I still want to be a groundpounder hose puller, you can’t beat it for the pucker factor. Yet, I’ve said many times that I want to be cross-trained so I can fill in where and whenever it’s needed, and this is a blaring example of why. I guess I’ll have to get a bigger and brassier pair than the ones I already have, because I have to learn rappeling to be able to be part of the regular ladder crew. More fun lies ahead.
