Fire and Death

It was sometime around 2014-2015. McQueeny Volunteer Fire Department got toned out for a structure fire and I immediately dropped my fork, paid the bill at the restaurant and made my way to my car where my bunker gear sat, ready in my trunk. The young lady I was with was slightly nervous as I recall, I didn't have time to take her home, fire doesn't wait. I sped, we weren't supposed to as we were in Personally Owned Vehicles (POVs) and we had no sirens or lights to ensure it was safe, but I did anyways.

I've never hesitated when it came to dangerous situations, you'd think for as unsure and timid as I can be in some aspects of my life that I wouldn't be so cavalier with something as serious as fire, but I loved the adrenaline. As we drove down the country roads that made up McQueeny, I went over all the safety measures I had to take and exactly how to fight fires. Repetitive mental rehearsals always kept my "edge" sharp. Test the floors, watch for overhead debris, make sure I've got a good seal on my SCBA, all these things went through my head a million times before I even arrived on scene. It's important. You have to have a plan, even if it get's shot to shit from the moment you pull up. A plan provides a framework to build off of. It's the foundation, not the spire atop a skyscraper.

We arrived on scene and I flipped my trunk open, ripped my gear bag out and went to work getting ready. Boots and pants, hood, jacket, helmet and gloves. I don't remember how long it took, but one moment I was in shorts and a t-shirt, the next I was geared up with an air tank on my back and searching for our chief to get my orders.

The flames were intense. Trailers such as these are extremely dangerous as the floors are thin and the rectangular shape turns the trailer into a wind tunnel that exponentially feeds the flames. We weren't going to be making entry. The building was already 90% involved and had we gone in, I wouldn't be here today. We risk much to save much, and risk little to save little. We didn't know if the homeowner was home, or if he was out, and right then, we weren't going to find out. Hours dragged on, as the flames subsided and I was finally forced to go to recovery after depleting one or two air tanks. I thought about my date. This surely was not what she had planned on for tonight, right? Or was it? I grabbed an extra bottle of water and walked over to where my car was parked, threw her a bottle of water and apologized for the interruption in our evening. As I recall she was quite understanding and it didn't bother her. I went back to recovery and ate an energy bar. We put the flames out and the Fire Marshall's investigative unit arrived.

We were told that we needed to make a search of the premises for the resident. His family just 20 yards away. We tried to keep a professional look on our faces, so as not to assume the worst. His presence or lack thereof had yet to be confirmed. As we approached the section of the home where the bedroom used to be, nothing but soot and ash now, I knew he was there. How?

In 2005, I was in Ramadi, Iraq with Weapons Company, 3rd Battalion 7th Marine Regiment. It was my platoon's week to be the Quick Reaction Force for the battalion. A section or entire platoon at a time could be out the gate in less than 5 minutes to provide immediate relief to troops in contact with the insurgent fighters. This fateful day, we were called out as an EOD team, escorted by Lima Company, had been hit with an IED, while clearing other IEDs. This unfortunately was a common occurrence. IEDs were a common occurrence and finding them the easy way was often deadly. Such was the case that day. Many of the EOD Marines didn't outlast that blast. One of whom was loaded into the back of my up-armored high-back Humvee. We unloaded the body at Charlie Med in Camp Ramadi and I'll never forget the smell of charred flesh. To this day it makes me sick. I can't stand smelling burnt hair or meat. It makes me vomit.

I recognized the smell immediately and stifled my body's attempt to vomit. His family was watching. They couldn't find out their son was there because I was vomiting all over the place. Another member of our crew didn't know and I wasn't going to tell him. When we found it, we'd find it and that's how he'd know. I didn't know what his reaction would be. He was already upset over the fact that we didn't make entry into the building to search for this young man, but the fact of the matter was the young man was already dead before the first fire truck had arrived. It sounds harsh, but it would have done nothing except endanger firefighters lives to go in and search for him by the time we got there. That's the unfortunate reality of firefighting. You can't save everyone.

When we found the body, everyone simply bowed their heads and slowly made their way out of the rubble, so as to not raise alarm. EMS had arrived and it was now their scene.

I told you all earlier that stories build our lives, so why write this? Why talk about such a gruesome day? That day was a sober reminder that despite your best intentions, no matter what, sometimes and sadly, more often than not, you can't save everyone. What is soul wrenching about that is that you will often find the broken pieces of lives you tried to save afterwards, just like we found his body in the charred remains of the home.

I implore you to not take it out on yourselves if you find yourself in a similar situation. A situation where you are equipped and able to help, but either due to circumstances beyond your control, like the fire consuming the building in such short order, or someone willfully ignoring what good advice you share...you cannot be responsible for everyone. You are not God, or even god. You don't have supernatural powers and the last thing you want to do is become a tyrant who forces your hand and destroys the very essence of free will.

Forgive yourself.