Outside the first fire trucks arrived, three engines and two ladder trucks, this was a working fire with children still inside. I wasn’t long before they realized they needed more help, a second alarm and then a third alarm went out, soon after there were two more calls for assistance. Fire was coming out of the windows on the first floor, roaring through the small openings that once had windows in them, it didn’t take long for the fire to spread to the second floor then the third floor. The shingles were burning, but the firefighters knew they had to get inside, there were people in there, there were small children. Entry from the front stairwell proved to be useless, the fire had rapidly extended up the front stairwell toward the second floor, so they set up their ladders to go through the window. Two of them would go inside, while a third would stay on the ladder at the window to help them find their way back out. As the two firefighters went in, they had to crawl on the floor, feeling around for anyone they could find. The smoke was thick and it was so hot inside, but they kept searching, they knew there were children in there and they had to find them. As they worked their way around the front room and found nothing, they moved onto the next room, where one of them found Debra, my brother John and myself. It appeared that Debra was laying on top of John and I, as though she was trying to protect us from the flames and smoke. We were all unconscious and the firefighter knew he had to move fast to get us out of there. He grabbed me first, I was not responsive, but he shared his oxygen mask with me, trying desperately to get fresh air into my lungs. Not sure if I was even alive, he brought me back to the window and passed me to the firefighter waiting on the ladder. I was rushed to the ambulance. The firefighter returned to the room to grab the others, not realizing it might be too late, he just had to try.
Outside was my aunt and my uncle, they lived across the street from us and were awoken by the noise. Standing there in horror, my aunt cried. I know she did. Her sister and sisters kids were still inside. The sight was horrific, nothing that she had ever seen before. A phone call to family informed them of what was happening. My cousins Scott and Tommy were still asleep in their beds. Others had gathered around the fire trucks, back then there were no yellow tapes to stop people from getting too close. A photographer was there taking pictures, probably for a news paper or something. Everyone was staring at the scene in front of them. My father stood off to the side, shocked at what was happening. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How had this happened, he thought, why is this happening?
The firefighters were busy spraying the building with water, low hanging wires prevented them from using aerial ladders, but the large snow banks hindered the effects of ground ladders. But still they persisted, splashing the building with water from all angles. After a while the firefighter that had brought me out, exited the building and had to receive oxygen himself. Overcome by smoke and having to share his mask with the kids, he was taken to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation. Others took his spot, John was brought out, unconscious and not breathing. Debra was brought out the same way, the EMT’s were able to bring Debra back, but not John. My brother John died that night, he was six years old. Our neighbor from the third floor, Mrs. Milley, was found deceased as well, her husband was brought to the hospital. Eventually my mother was brought out, she was burned over a large portion of her body. Billows of smoke still poured out of the windows, with all the victims pulled from the building, the firefighters continued to try to extinguish the fire that had spread so rapidly throughout the building. Flames reached out to the sky, raging with fury, trying to overcome the building. But the water appeared to dampen the effects, although too late. The building was a loss, nothing left, no memories, no toys, no clothes and the loss of two victims. A loaf of bread lay on the sidewalk, a reminder that a family had once been inside. By five in the morning, the fire was out, the sun was preparing to rise, while others tried to cope with what had happened. Families torn apart, a neighborhood ripped apart by grief, one child and one adult dead, two other children fighting for their lives and my mother fighting to survive. Mr. Milley was in shock, his wife was dead, he barely escaped with his own life, but he had no idea how to live without her. The fire was soon to be investigated by the Boston Arson Squad. Someone had to of set it, this didn’t happen naturally. Couldn’t have, could it? Firefighters cleared the scene for investigators, other neighbors came out. Curious as to how the people who lived there were doing, but no one seemed to know. The events of that night would linger in their minds as they prepared for their day to start.