At a landing, the stairs made a one hundred and eighty turn up to the second floor of the house. I remained on the landing feeding hose up to Duncan and Fred who had both disappeared into the darkness of the upper floor. I struggled to catch my breath as I was feeding hose, wondering what had ever made me become a volunteer firefighter. Twenty minutes earlier I had been dozing off in front of a Saturday afternoon sports show. Now I was in an unfamiliar building that was on fire, doing a job that usually claimed the lives of just over one hundred firefighters in the United States each year, and I was volunteering to do it. My mind raced as my task of feeding hose had ended. What would I do next? Did I have something to do right now? Were Fred and Duncan alright?
The sound of two ringing bells interrupted my chaotic thoughts. Fred and Duncan appeared at the top of the stairs, their low pressure air alarms still ringing. Fred pulled me over as he walked down the stairs. “Follow the hose up to the nozzle and wait there,” he said. I nodded my understanding and crawled on the floor, gripping the hose as if it might be my only chance of getting out of the house alive if something bad happened. I heard new muffled voices of firefighters about twenty feet behind me. They were searching for fire at the front of the house. I reached the nozzle and gazed at the back of the house. Blackened walls released steam upwards and it felt very hot where I was sitting. Duncan and Fred had found the fire.
As I stared at the walls, two small orange embers fell to the floor beside me and caught my eye. I looked up and saw that the ceiling was an eerie orange color. I heard the unmistakable sound of crackling wood above me. Then it appeared. A ball of fire that had been hiding in the attic raced to the back of the house. Half frozen from fear, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I’ve got fire back here!”
Someone must have heard the desperation in my voice as a hand touched my shoulder within seconds.
“What’s the matter?” the calm voice questioned.
“I’ve got a lot of fire up above me.” I replied.
“Calm down and take a deep breath. It’s a simple concept and you can do it. Put the wet stuff on the red stuff, that’s all.” He said.
“OK, thanks.” I said as I regained my lost composure.
I felt the power of the hose press into my body as I opened the nozzle. I directed the water straight up to cool down the ceiling over my head. As that cooled down I shot the water right into the center of the fireball. Within seconds the fire had disappeared and it was replaced by a scorching blanket of steam that enveloped me. I continued to spray water until I was confident that I would not see the menacing face of the fire again. The ringing of my breathing apparatus low pressure alarm startled me and I shut down the hose. I left the nozzle behind me and walked towards the stairs. The group of firefighters that were at the front of the house had just pulled down a part of the ceiling with a pike pole. Looking up into the attic I saw nothing but a sea of arrange flame. I stared at it for a second and felt that I had somehow conquered fire that day, even if conquered only meant being able to control it for a short while.
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