I work for a small fire department. We have three stations, 18 pieces of apparatus (including two boats), we have over 80 volunteers and 10 career firefighters, and we protect an area roughly around 36 square miles, (mostly residential) with a total value estimated at 2.2 billion dollars. This last figure is the most important, because most of the homes we protect are three, to four to five thousand square feet in area. Several homes in our district stand at over 35 thousand square feet. Yes, I said it, over 35 thousand. This too is important because as you might imagine, our district is very affluent. That isn't to say we don't have homes that are smaller, but the vast majority are what we like to call "high dollar" homes. When you understand that your job is to protect these high dollar homes, you begin to understand that you aren't going to fight many fires in this district. Why? Well, there are several reasons, the main one being that people who can afford these homes cannot afford to lose these homes to fires, and are therefore very careful. Another reason is that our fire prevention and education efforts are starting to make a difference. We are now seeing the effects of our work with young children, because each year, we see less and less fires caused by children, careless smoking, etc. Don't get me wrong, there will always be stupid people who do stupid things, like store flammable liquids near a gas hot water heater, etc. (We call that job security.) Anyway, the reason for this explanation/background is that on May 9th, 2006, we went to a reported house fire at one of these high dollar homes. It was there that I experienced a scary, but eye opening event that injured two firefighters, but thankfully, not too seriously.

As I said earlier, we have three stations. Each station has different operating hours. For instance, Station One works from 9:00am to 6:00pm, Monday through Friday, Station Two works from 6:00am to 3:00pm, and Station Three works from 7:00am to 4:00pm. That way, from 6:00am to 6:00pm, our district is covered. After 6:00pm and on the weekends, volunteers take over. So, here it was on Tuesday, at around 3:55pm, when a neighboring fire department was dispatched to a reported house fire. Crap! Just before quitting time! We watched a computer aided dispatch screen that then told us our department was being dispatched to the same reported house fire. While en route to the fire (which was almost ten miles away) we heard the first arriving engine company reporting a working house fire. Having already been dressed in full turnout gear and wearing my SCBA, (air tank) I was ready to go to work. When we arrived on the scene, as the third, fourth or fifth engine on the scene, (I can't tell you exactly how many were in front of us; there were that many) we saw a whole lot of smoke, and fire through the roof. At first, we were ordered to assist in setting up what's called an un-manned monitor, which flows large amounts of water. After doing that, and finding that it wasn't working very well, my partner and I were ordered to assist other firefighters who were getting ready to take a hose line into the house. At this point, another co-worker of mine, Jimmy, pulled me inside the house, because two firefighters already inside needed to be relieved. So Jimmy takes the nozzle, and I back him up. Under the supervision of Captain H., we begin to fight fire on the second floor of the home, in bedrooms, walls, above our heads, etc. Jimmy was doing an excellent job dousing the flames, and Captain H. was equally as impressive as he pointed out areas that needed water.

After our work was done upstairs, Captain H. had us come back down stairs, and fight some fire in a hallway and bedroom. Again, Jimmy was aggressive and the fire in that area was out. We then turned to our right, and entered a "great room", that had very high ceilings (well, not really, since a good portion of it was burned away) and began to fight fire in some walls above our heads. Once again, aggressive firefighting on Jimmy's part had the fire out in the areas we were concentrating on. Captain H. then had Jimmy "hit" an area with his hose stream, and that's when it happened.

When you decide to become a firefighter, you understand that there are certain inherent risks involved. On warning stickers on all of our turnout gear there is a sentence that reads, "Firefighting is an ultra hazardous, ultra dangerous activity." They aren't kidding. We all know that firefighting is a dangerous job, but by using our training and experience, we can minimize a lot of the dangers we face. There is however, the unknown, and that is what kills firefighters. We have a saying the fire service, and that is, "Everyone goes home." When I get up in the morning and go to work, my main focus is on returning home to my wonderful wife Megan and our beautiful son Jonah. But I agreed to do a job, and I agreed to face the dangers that go along with it. No, I didn't sign up to die or get injured, but those are the occupational hazards associated with firefighting.

Before we even got to the house, the fire had a very big head start on us. As I said earlier, it had already burned through the roof when we got there. After Jimmy started to spray the walls with water that were already wet and burned, the ceiling collapsed on us. Jimmy and I were knocked over, and some burning debris got down the back of Jimmy's turnout jacket, and burned him on his neck. I had a bunch of ceiling/wall/sheet rock/wood fall on me, but I was okay. As Jimmy wriggled to get the burning debris off of him, we searched for a way out. It is in this moment where training and experience take a backseat to instinct. The instinct to get out and survive is much stronger than any training could provide. It's strange to say, but I didn't think about dying, I didn't think of Megan, Jonah or my family; all I thought about was getting the heck out, and making sure that my crew was okay. It was only after we were out and relatively okay, that I started to think about my family, my friends, and my life.

After the ceiling fell on us, Captain H. immediately called for a R.I.T. (Rapid Intervention Team; a team solely devoted to rescuing firefighters) to come and get us out. But, we weren't waiting for them. Captain H. led the way and we exited the house. The R.I.T. Team, comprised of one of my co-workers, a volunteer and some members of another department flew in to get us, but we were already out of the house. It is good to know that these men were willing to risk their lives for me, Jimmy and Captain H., and I was glad that they were not hurt, and that they got out safely.

It has been several days since the fire, and I still find that I am thinking constantly about what happened to us. This is sort of a dilemma for me. It could have been much, much worse, with the outcome being much more devastating, and yet I can't get past the fact that even though we are relatively okay, we came very close to not going home that day.

So let me show some pictures I took the day after the fire. Here is what the house looked like before we got there, all five thousand plus feet of it...

And here is the same shot, after the fire...It's difficult to see, but if you look through the trees, you can see where the roof has been burned away.

Although the damage is much worse now than when I first got on scene, this is close to how it looked when we arrived...

It's hard to recognize now, but this is the front entrance. Just outside the door was where I was standing, waiting to go in, when Jimmy said two people inside needed to be relieved...

So I walked inside with Jimmy, upstairs to the right, and he took over the nozzle, while I backed him up. Here are the stairs we used to get to the second floor...

If you look closely at the pic, you will see a second set of stairs on the left side. Until I took the picture the day after the fire, I had no idea those stairs were there. When you are fighting fire, there are a million things going on at once, and you get kind of focused on a job, and miss things. We call that "tunnel vision", and I had a serious case of it that day! Tunnel vision keeps you from seeing the big picture, and that can cause problems. But since the crew I was on never used those stairs, they didn't make or break the situation we found ourselves in.

We then came back downstairs, and fought fire in a hallway/bedroom area, just inside the front door, to the left of the stairs...

We then turned around, and fought fire on the wall above that doorframe in the last picture. We then moved to the center of the great room, near the second set of stairs. Here is sort of a wide shot of the area...(Notice the two sets of stairs, one of which I missed...)

While close to the second set of stairs, Jimmy trained the nozzle on the area above us, and to the left, I think. We were near the bottom of the second set of stairs when the ceiling collapsed on us.

The clear area (where there is no debris on the floor) is about where it fell. Jimmy and I were pushed forward, while falling, into the kitchen, through the door in the center part of the picture. (The door to the porch was not open when it happened.)

While in the kitchen, Jimmy was yelling that he was burning, and I was trying to get myself righted, and attempting to brush off whatever was burning him. At this moment, Captain H. was on the radio and calling for the R.I.T. Team. We then heard our evacuation signal, which are three blasts from engine air horns. By then, we were out. This is a shot of the exit we took...

Immediately, Captain H. began to look for a way out. This was it. There was a bunch of burning debris just outside this door, but it didn't matter. We had to get out...

After exiting the house, we were met by firefighters and EMS workers who wanted to make sure that we were okay. For the most part we were, but Jimmy suffered some burns to the back of his neck, and I just have a sore shoulder.

Firefighters are issued full sets of turnout gear. That includes pants, coat, helmet, boots, gloves and a hood. The pants and coats are made of three layers of fire resistive material that are not fireproof. Eventually, even the heavy material will burn. The layers include a fiber called Nomex, which is the same stuff the hood is made out of. But somehow, even though Jimmy was well protected, something got down his collar, and onto his hood. This shot shows the char marks in it...

And this is the hood folded over, which is the part that was touching his skin. You can see where it burned right through.

This is Jim's helmet, which got covered in sheet rock material. It looks a lot worse than it was, but it's still proof that something happened!

And this is mine...

By the way, this is Jimmy...

Jimmy suffered a third degree burn to back of his neck that will require a skin graft. He also got a few more burns that weren't as severe, thankfully.

The last picture I have for this posting is the burn on the back of Jimmy's neck. I struggled whether or not to post it, but in the end, I posted it (obviously) for a few reasons. First, what happened to Jimmy should never happen to any firefighter, or civilian. Burns are one of the worst and most painful injuries you can suffer. Second, it stands as a constant reminder to me of what he went through, and what we all go through, to save the lives and property of the residents of our district. Third, we need to remember (everyday) the difficult, dangerous and sometimes deadly job firefighters perform every day. Whether it is at a house fire, on a busy highway at a traffic accident, or working with a sick person, we put ourselves, and our lives on the line to protect others. If you are squeamish, just ate, or cannot look at serious injuries, DO NOT SCROLL DOWN ANY FURTHER. THE NEXT PICTURE IS GRAPHIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED....

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343 firefighters lost their lives on September 11th, 2001. They died doing what they loved, and, if given the chance, would do it all again. The same goes for me, Jimmy and Captain H. We love what we do, and we understand the risks. Will I be scared or nervous the next time we get a call of a house fire? You'd better believe it. Anyone who has gone through what we went through and tells you differently, is a fool. I may be nervous, but I am going to do my job. I have to. I have no choice. I feel I owe that to the memories of those brave souls who climbed countless stairs into danger, to perform my job to the best of my ability each and every day. If I can go home after a ceiling collapse, then I have performed my job excellently. Anything else is just gravy.

I have never experienced anything like this, and, quite frankly, I hope I never do again. But the odds are, the longer I stay a firefighter, the better the chances are that something similar, or worse, will happen. Should that fate befall me, I want to say that I love you all, and you mean more to me than words can express. I love my wife Megan dearly, for without her, I would not have my wonderful son Jonah, and another baby on the way!

I am thankful for all of the training that my department provides, so that I was able to think clearly and not panic when the ceiling collapsed. I am also thankful for Jimmy, who is in pain, but otherwise okay. He is a hard worker, an aggressive firefighter and a good friend. It is for him that I dedicate this post.

As of this writing, the cause for the fire has yet to be determined, but it appears as if it is going to be ruled accidental.