Fire Department Softball

Nothing beats a good game of softball with the guys. Last week was a highlight in our season. Based on some bad attitudes needing adjusted, we sent Probie Dick off to steal second. Stealing the base was only part of it. Benson also succeeded in breaking the leg of the second baseman. Attitude adjusted.

Now you would think that a bunch of fireman would be able to help this poor guy, but all we really wanted to do was keep playing. Sure we called the ambulance, but only after standing over him in a taunting fashion say, "Yup, looks broke..."

The umpires wouldn't let us drag him off the field to keep playing so the game was rescheduled for the end of the season which, unfortunatley, is quickly approaching.

Oooops!!

Sometimes there are days when you should just stay in bed. Sometimes those days are nights, kinda like last night. Unlike the picture, I wasn't totally without clothing.

I suppose the time was about 2:30 in the very a.m. Tones went off for something, I wasn't sure what at the time. We both staggered out into the bays and into the truck.

"Dude." The hoarse voice of my partner.

"What?" Still not sure what I'm doing up at such an ungodly hour.

"Dude!!" Looking at me very oddly.

It was then that I realized that I had pulled on my boots and walked out to the truck in my T-Shirt, underwear and boots...

So there I sit, no pants, ready to spring into action and save lives, or whatever it was that we were being called for.

That sort of thing tends to wake you up rather quickly. I piled out of the truck and ran back to my bunk, again in my undies and black combat boots. Not a pleasant image I'm sure. I returned again and went to work.

Over Haul

The understatement for the day is that our vehicle maintenance program is lacking. It's always a crap shoot when you mention something that is wrong with a vehicle. You are either ignored, told it's supposed to be that way, or your vehicle disappears for a while. Some of you may say that that's how it works. I'll add also that your vehicle comes back with no mention of what has been done, if anything. A good portion of the time the problem will persist. We have actually ruined motors and blown transmissions in the middle of a transport because things weren't repaired properly. This time is no different.

The exhaust on the ambulance I've been working on was installed poorly and the custom work done by our "mechanic" made it worse. Every time we pull up to a curb, the exhaust is bent back so that it rubs on the rear tires. Don't pull so close was the mechanics "fix" for this problem. Kick the crap out of it so it doesn't sit on the tire was our fix.

On the day in question, we were turning around in a parking lot. A curb lay in front of us. This obstacle to our progress later measured out to be a mere 2" tall. It may as well have been a foot.

We stopped short of the curb and had a brief conversation that went something like:

"You think we can get over that?"

"I would hope so."

"Yeah...It really is just a baby curb."

"Guess we'll find out."

We proceeded with the understanding that if a four year old could ride her bike over this thing (a girl on a bike skirted around us as we pondered), a $250,000 piece of fire equipment would have no problem. It wasn't a firm faith that we were operating under, but more like a defiant "It had better make it."

Just before we began to roll the phone rang. Some of the superstitious types may call this an omen, a sign, a harbinger, a prophecy. I just answered the phone, my driver kept driving. I was busy explaining to my Captain why lunch would be late when the truck lurched to a stop.

The words "Please hold," or "Hang on a second," never crossed my mind. The captain got a distorted version of "Uhhhhh..."

We looked at each other with that "Did that really just happen?" look and almost simultaneously piled out of our respective doors.

The exhaust, which had previous protruded from in front of the rear tire appeared absent. Further inspection showed, however, that it had been forced back by our "baby curb" until the rear tires had forced it under them and sucked it rearward. It was now wedged between the two tires. We were stuck. Driving forward would rip the piping out from under the truck. Backing up would ram the system back into the belly of the beast, also a bad option.

The captain actually remained on the line for our entire assessment, and patiently at that.

"We need your help," was all that I could muster. I told him we'd need the Sawz-All and a pry bar. Both are standard issue on the trucks, but things weren't really processing at the moment.

After being chewed out for not providing their meal on time, they said they were on their way. We sat in the parking lot, blocking several cars' escapes as we waited.

We cut the pipe off, tossed it up on the gurney like some mangled, petrified snake, and drove towards the shop. The disgrace was not, however, over. A shower of sparks poured out from the underside of our misfortuned conveyance. All the while drawing the attention of well meaning citizens waving and signaling at our dislodged muffler.

"Just smile and wave boys." The only sentiment that came to mind.

Story time!

We were called to the trailer of a family that we know very well. The family consists of a mother and two daughters, all of whom are over 500 lbs.

Generally, our calls are related to a difficulty breathing and this time was no different. We arrived at the address and went inside. Mom and "Daughter A" were sitting in their customary recliners, pizza boxes are scattered about and Jerry Springer is blaring on the TV. It seemed all was right with this morbid part of the world.

"She's in the back." Bellowed one of the pair. So towards the back we go.

A home health nurse of some type is standing in a doorway. As we turn the corner into a tiny bathroom, a whole lot of woman is taking up the back half. "She couldn't get up off the toilet and now she's having a hard time breathing." Manages the nurse.

As I work my way into the cramped quarters, I see a toilet brush in the sink, covered with feces. Catching my attention I hear from behind me a muffled "What's that for?" I am ripped back to reality by a gruff "For wiping my a**!!" Whoa...Didn't see that one coming!

We get our patient up off the pot and into the hall before she says "I still have to go to the bathroom." Before any of us could ever hope to imagine we were hearing things, the nurse says "Just go ahead and go sweetie. We'll take care of it later." My only thought was that I'm certain I didn't just hear those words escape from her mouth. A few shuffles down the hall later the nurse unbuttons her trap and lets its poison pour out again. "Just go ahead and go." Then "Daughter B" says three words that may disturb me for the rest of my career. "I already did."

Here's where you all say "Eeewwwwww!" And this is where I say "You have no idea!"

Our sadist nurse acts as voice for the crowd when she says "Well, where is it?"

Now, I've heard that victims of violent crime as well as those whose house may be burning to the ground feel time slow down to the point where they are able to reflect and actually tell themselves "This isn't happening." I suppose this was a sort of violence, because what happened next will, without doubt, leave a scar.

All I heard was, "I don't know. DIG IT OUT!!" I'm sure I suffered a stroke or something because I don't remeber anything else.

There isn't much that needs to be said about having pride in your department when you look at these photographs. I'm sure that they were talking about these men when it was said, "If you do this job well, they is nothing more noble you will do with your life."

These are the men we honor or do disservice to by the service we render. They are the reason that I put my boots in front of the rig every morning. They are the reason I answer every call like it's my first and my last.

September 11

This past week we remembered the lives lost on Sept 11, 2001. We had a memorial behind Station 1 that evening and spent some time hanging out with the guys. Pipes and drums played and it was really great. I'm disappointed more every year with the turn out to these events. It's been seven years now and there were very few people in attendance who weren't firemen or their families. I spoke with a Captain whose son got a new edition to a history book (printed in 2004). The attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon were not mentioned. I get to know more and more of the men killed that day as I read their stories and get to know their lives. I will never say that I felt the loss that their brothers in New York felt, but I consider them my brothers and still hold dear their lives.

River Rescue

I was able to spend the last weekend being trained by the instructors of Montana River Guides. They spent three days teaching us the ins and outs of safely dealing with a very unpredictable challenge--Swift Water Rescue. While being on whitewater is nothing new or foreign to me, the demands of this class put things in a new perspective. Cody and Lila, our instructors, were able to draw on years of experience and research to give us a class that was top notch. And who wouldn't give a few days to go play on the river. Bumps and bruises aside, this was an awesome class.

Time was spent below the gates of Gem Lake where the instructors could customize the flow of the river, presenting new challenges to the students. The first challenge, of course, was beating the heat. We had a shelter set up, but being wrapped in a giant air and water tight garbage bag makes it tough to cool off. Among other tasks was a shallow water crossing in swift water. At the rate the water was flowing, it put about 200 lbs. of force on just our legs. Fortunately, we were able to stand Rob Hall out there in front and anchor off of him.

First Day Welcome

Water throwing is definately nothing new in the fire service. I guess I'm lucky enough to have my induction on video. That's me in the middle.

The Maltese Cross is a symbol of protection- a badge of honor. Its story is hundreds of years old. When a courageous band of crusaders, known as the knights of St. John, fought the Saracens for possession of the Holy Land, they encountered a new weapon unknown to European warriors. It was a simple, but horrible device of war; it wrought excruciating pain and agonizing death upon the brave fighters of the Cross.
The Saracen's weapon was fire! As the Crusaders advanced on the walls of the city, they were attacked by glass bombs containing naphtha. When they became saturated with the highly flammable liquid, the Saracens hurled a flaming tree into their midst. Hundreds of Knights were burned alive. Others risked their lives to save their brothers in arms from dying painful deaths. Thus, these men became the first fire fighters...and the first of a long list of courageous Fire Fighters. Their heroic efforts were recognized by fellow Crusaders who awarded each hero with a badge of honor- a cross similar to the one Fire Fighters wear today.
Since the Knights of St. John lived for nearly four centuries on a little island in the Mediterranean Sea, named Malta, the Cross became known as the Maltese Cross. The Maltese Cross is a symbol of protection. It means that the Fire Fighter that wears this Cross is willing to lay down his life, just as the Crusaders sacrificed their lives for their fellow men so many years ago. The Maltese Cross is a Fire Fighter's Badge of Courage.

In 2006 the Idaho Falls Fire Department organized it's first Honor Guard. Originally there were eight of us. That number dwindled to 5 rather quickly. Now we're back to seven fairly regularly, which is a far cry from where we would like to be, but we're working on it. We go to as many events as we are invited to. Obviously, our primary responsibility is to honor our fallen brothers and sisters, but fortunately, that has been very limited. We march in the 4th of July parade, which is where this picture was taken.



This was our fledgling year and we were really just trying not to stab anyone with the pikes and keep in step. I think we've come a long way in the last couple years. We'll keep our small corp sharp and make it work until we can find some volunteers. This picture was taken July 2007.

After a thorough soaking by the guys that were working that day, Chief of Department Dean Ellis spoke with us and let us know what he expected. Beginning that same day our academy set off hard and fast. It was a very short academy, only four weeks, so they had to cover a lot of information every day.

Things got cozy pretty fast that week. Our confined space training was as straight forward as it comes. It was basically "Get in that hole and crawl until you find the end." There was obviously a little more instruction than that, but that was more or less the idea. After the first time through, things got a little more challenging and the plain jane tube was looking mighty appealing.

Rebar. I love it!


First time off the drill tower. High angle rescue was a full day. Just enough to get the taste in your mouth, but not enough to make you good. Lots of practice.

Being the first to speak up in the academy isn't always the best thing. You usually end up strapped to a backboard, upside down in the shower. This time it paid off, though. That's me running the monitor...

...and that's Dan and Jon on the receiving end working their way towards the valve on that tank.

I met a man today who I would not wish to be, nor would I wish what happened to him upon any but the most vile of criminals and liberals.

Today we were called to help a man with a traumatic injury. Upon our arrival we found a man who had gotten his coveralls caught in the belt of a spud conveyor. He miraculously spun out of his coveralls only to be pulled in by his jeans. While being dragged into the machinery, his junk got caught in the belt, tearing open his scrotum and nearly severing his penis.

Like I said, something only a select few should have to experience.

The guy was quite lucid and, as long as he wasn't being moved,
relatively pain free (so he said). A crowd of his co-workers had gathered around and were sharing words of support at the same time we exposed his injuries. Beethoven himself could not have composed a more harmonious symphony of groans and gasps. The moans of his brothers (if by anatomy alone) were sympathetic and truly heart felt.

We drugged the poor fellow up and hauled him to the hospital. To my knowledge, he kept all of his bits and pieces.

As anyone who's been there can tell you, getting started in the fire service can be a bit rocky. I've spoken to quite a few guys who spent years trying to get on the department. Others have taken jobs with nearby departments waiting for their name to be called. I've been the exception, I guess. I tested once with Bethel, AK and was hired right away. I was also hired the first time I tested with Idaho Falls, ID. I feel very fortunate to be the exception.

Three years into my career now and I feel like things are still very tumultuous. I was settling into the role of being a tailboarder, a fireman. Now I'm in paramedic training and things are more foreign than ever. I suppose if I ever get too sedentary at anything I do it's time to try something a little more challenging.