The room is dark. It's a doctor's office. Actually a psychiatrist's office. The couch has a grown man, talking to the female psychiatrist.
"So tell me why you became a firefighter." The female voice wears on. She sits with obvious curiosity. After all most boys dream of becoming cops or firemen when they are little. Few actually do though. This man was different. He had his reason. It was rare that you could get a firefighter to open up, this time was different.
The man begins.
"I'll admit to you, when I started out I was scared to death of fire. I was scared of the smell of smoke, the smell of burnt hair or flesh. But that's what got me there. I was a little boy, pulled trembling from underneath my bed. My skin burnt. It was painful. A hand reached through the blackness. The light shone down on me. The voice of the fireman was calming…"
"You'll be alright buddy. Take my hand. Don't be scared we're going to get you out of here I promise." The firefighter said.
"Okay" the little boy said trembling with fear.
The fireman carried him down the four flights of stairs and out to the waiting medic crew.
"This one's got some burns. Found him hiding under his bed on the fourth floor. The kid's lucky he made it." The fireman said to the medic
"We'll take good care of him." The medic said calmly before turning to the little boy on the stretcher. He was shivering in the cold January night. The snow on the ground was chilling everyone at this apartment building to the bone. "What's your name son?"
"Derek" the little boy trembles
"It's okay, we're going to help you." The medic says comforting the 8 year old.
"Where's my mom?" Derek asks
"Let's get you taken care of and then we'll find your mom okay?" the medic asks
"Okay." Derek answers
"And where was your mom?" the psychiatrists asks
"She was at the store. Came rushing back when she saw the fire trucks. I was never so happy to see her in my life. She rode in the ambulance with me to Saint Vincent's. I was scared and she calmed me." He pauses for a moment. "I can still smell it sometimes."
"The fire?"
"No the burning flesh. It's how I came to get the scars on my face. They're constant reminders of the fear and the pain that I suffered that day." DK continues. "I can remember that for months afterwards I wasn't allowed to do kid things. I couldn't go swimming, couldn't play ball. I sat in our new apartment and just watched from the window. We lived up the block from the firehouse. I watched the trucks leave at all hours of the day. I became drawn to watching the men wash the truck on Sunday afternoons. Sometimes I would walk down and just watch them from there. They knew me from the fire, after all it was only a little over a block away from our old apartment. They let me honk the horn and play with the sirens occasionally. Even the old Dalmatian acknowledged me there."
The psychiatrist shifts in her chair. She continues to write on the yellow legal pad. She was listening intently.
"I slowly grew up. Went to high school. Played football, but on weekends I was down that street helping to roll hose lines or wash the engine. I was drawn to that building. Then one day an alarm went out, I'll never forget it."
The guys are polishing the engine. The red finish glimmered in the sun. As they were nearing the end the alarm bell rang.
"Engine 55 respond to a residential fire 1926 Arthur."
"Hey DK!" The Captain yelled
"Yeah Cap?" The young man answered
"You wanna ride?" the Captain grinned
DK stood with his eyes wide.
"Yeah!" He said with excitement
"Hop in!" He was instructed
The guys rode to that fire. He was riding with the men he looked up to all of those years.
"That feeling was great. It was my first time ever riding an engine. It was thrilling. I was 17 one year away from graduating." DK said
"But?" The psychiatrist knew there had to be something more to it.
DK paused before he began again. "Three of those guys never came back. The room they were in flashed over, completely burst into flames. They didn't even have time to scream for help. " He paused again. "That was before we had pass alarms. They found them an hour later after they finally managed to contain the flames."
He took a drink of water. He needed it, he was hot and thirsty. This was unbelievably hard to do.
"The mood around the house was dreary. I lost three friends that day. It was the first time I had ever lost somebody. A few days later the Captain approached me and asked if I had ever thought about becoming a fireman."
"Had you?"
"Not until that day. It never really occurred to me that I could do it. I was still a boy scared of fire. Scared of the uncontrollable flames. But they got me signed up for the academy the next summer. And I went."
"Kitson, Derek." The instructor called out"Here sir." DK called
"I know you from somewhere." The instructor recalled
"I'm not sure where sir." Then he looked at the name on the firefighter's shirt. MORGAN. It all began to come together. This was the man who 9 years before had saved his life.
"Weren't you that kid I pulled from under the bed?" The instructor asked
"Yes sir." DK replied
"And know you're working to become a fireman, I'll be damned!"
DK wasn't sure how to react.
"Let me tell you all this, right here right now. Every man who has ever passed through these doors before you, and everyone who will pass through behind you has ONE THING in common with you. They are all scared. Don't let them tell you they aren't. Because if you're not scared, you're crazy."
Those words stuck with DK all these years. He remembered them. He even thought about that very moment at the funeral of the man who became his mentor. It was months after September 11th. DK had been there when they found his body. He helped to carry him out. All those years had gone by.
"So how did September 11th affect you?" The woman knew the answer; it almost angered DK that she even asked.
"I lost 343 brothers that day. And a good friend named Tommy Doyle. He was from my house. They called us to the pile to carry him out. I helped carry way too many people out of that pile. We lost way too many people that day to some cowards." DK was mad. The thoughts of what happened that day infuriated him.
"A second plane has just hit the World Trade Center… The FDNY is calling ALL personnel to report to your houses immediately."
"What is going on?" DK asked himself on his way home from work. He had just gotten off of a double and now he was heading back. He was heading into hell.
He walked into the house. There was Lieutenant Johnson and part of the crew.
"Get your gear and let's go." Lt. Johnson said.
The engine had been one of the first dispatched on the box. The crew now climbed aboard another engine that was passing through and headed for the Trade Center. 7 of them started out, only 6 would return. They were up the street from the South Tower. They were headed for the building when it came down. For weeks the sounds of the pass alarms haunted the men of the 55. They worked tiring shifts spending their off time at the pile. For one member of his squad it was personal. Alex's father was somewhere in that pile. They hoped and prayed that they would find him. 233 days later they finally did. It brought some sense of closure to the house. After all she was family to them. And her family was their family. They suffered the loss with her. They were there when Lt. Johnson got the call that they had found him. They were there the day he was laid to rest. They were there through it all.
The psychiatrist was busy writing down notes. She had pages, enough to write a book it seemed. This was not the first fireman she had talked to and it certainly wouldn't be the last. She listened as he continued to talk about calls.
The psychiatrist then asked about the next tragedy the house faced.
"Alex Taylor was a good friend of yours wasn't she?" she asked
"She was like my sister. I was there when she died." He stammered on
"Taylor get off that car now!" Lt. Johnson yelled as Taylor tried to comfort the older couple trapped inside. It was only seconds later that an explosion rocked the scene. He could see it all. He watched as her body fell to the ground, then he looked to his right to see his Lieutenant on the ground, badly burned. It seemed like only moments later they were rushing the gurney into the ER. The doctors and nurses set immediately to working on him. The news that Taylor was gone had just sunken in to all of them. He stood with Walsh and Kim and Carlos. Ty Davis was standing there as well. It was hell. Jimmy rushed in the doors. They all waited anxiously for any word on their superior's condition. They were wheeling him out to the helicopter when everyone got to see him, little did they know that it was the last time they would ever get to see him alive. It was only a short time later when Mary Proctor came into the waiting room to tell them all the new.
"Guys." She said to break the silence
"What is it Mary?" Carlos asked
"It's Lieutenant Johnson." She paused as all eyes focused on her. "They're on the way back. I'm sorry. They'd like you up on the pad to carry him in."
Tears filled DK's eyes. He couldn't believe it. Someone from downtown handed him a folded American flag. He knew exactly what to do with it. They made their way up to the pad and watched the helicopter land. Then together they assisted Ruth Johnson and Do out of it. Finally they slowly pulled the backboard out and placed it on a gurney. They neatly tucked the flag over the body and slowly headed back to the building.
DK then thought about the funerals. Aboard Marine 6 they stood as they spread Taylor's ashes in the Harbor.
"I guess freedom don't come free." DK said to the psychiatrist.
"You guys do one hell of a job." She replies
"I'm not in it for the money, I'm in it because somewhere I can make a difference in some little kid's life. To me that's worth all the cash in the world." DK sits up. The session is obviously finished. He is heading off to work. Off to his home away from home, with his second family.
He walks into that house and it seems almost immediate.
"Squad 5 5, Ladder 100, Adam 55-3 Residential building fire 143 Lexington." The alarm calls
He smiles as he grabs his gear and climbs into the engine. Lt. Walsh climbs in and looks to the cab before turning his attention to the big window in front of him.
"Squad 5 5 is responding to 143 Lex" he radios in with a smile.
The sirens and air horns blast into the afternoon air.
"Nope, couldn't ask for a better job in the world." DK thinks to himself. "Not at all."