Captain Stanley's Journal
Captain Stanley quietly snuck out of the bunk room and went out to his car. He took a deep breath and smelled the fresh air, which was a rarity it the city of Los Angeles. It was a late summer evening and the cool breeze felt refreshing on his face. He looked up at the full moon and quietly thanked God for getting them through another day, even though the captain knew the shift wasn't over and the tones could go off in an instant and wreak havoc. It was unusually quiet, there was very little traffic on the 405 and he stood still a moment and took time to enjoy the peace and solitude. He walked the few steps to his car and retrieved the journal. He usually kept it in a locked drawer in his desk, but he forgot to put it there when he came on duty this morning.
No one knew that he kept the journal; he didn't want anyone to know. Each night as his men were sleeping he would go into his office and write in it. Sometimes in the middle of the day, he would go in his office, close the door and write. As the captain, it was his responsibility to look out for his men and he took that responsibility very seriously.
When he was promoted to captain, he needed an outlet; a way to let out some of the stress and fears that came with the job. It was actually his wife, Emily, that came up with the idea of starting a journal. She suggested it when he came home one day after a terrible house fire that claimed the life of the occupants, a young family of four. He couldn't go into details about the fire with her, and there was no way she could ever understand the pain, agony and helplessness he felt as he tried desperately to save them. She did understand the feelings and the need her husband had to find an outlet for those pent up emotions. Before he left the house for his next shift, Emily handed him his first journal. He remembered how he resisted the idea of writing in it at first. But when he arrived at work that morning, he kept seeing the house as is was burning with the family inside and no way to reach them no matter how hard they tried. He went to his office and took the journal out of his bag. The journal was solid red and Emily had written: To my loving husband, I hope this journal gives you a way to express your thoughts and feelings that you can't share with anyone else. I understand there are aspects of your job that you can't share with me and I want you to know that it's okay. I hope that you remember the good things you do and not just the bad things that happen. I want you to remember all the lives you save. I want you to remember the difference you make in the lives of those you help. More than anything else, I want you to remember that what you do does matter. I want you to remember that no matter how bad life is, I will always love you. You are my hero, Captain Hank Stanley.
He took her words to heart and the first thing he wrote in his first journal was the name of every man under his command. Those were the names that mattered. They were the ones who trusted him and the men he trusted with his own life. He decided he would read those names every day before he wrote anything else. He never told Emily, but he almost lost Roy the night of that house fire. Johnny and Roy had made their way into the house through a back door and a beam fell, nearly hitting Roy. The entire roof gave way a nanosecond after they had made a dash out of the burning structure. He wasn't sure if writing his thoughts and feelings down would really help, but he decided, 'what the heck, I'll give it a whirl'. He wrote four pages before he knew it and he did feel better.
He retrieved his latest journal, a light brown leather-bound one, from his glove box.
He checked on his men before heading to his office. He stood in the doorway of the bunk room, and smiled as he saw his men sleeping. Each man had placed their turnout gear neatly beside their beds, ready to be stepped into the moment the tones went off. He quietly walked back to his office, sat down at his desk and opened the journal. He read the names on the inside of the front cover.
Today had been especially hard on the captain. He almost lost some of his men at an apartment fire. He slowly traced the names of each man with his right index finger.
He retrieved a pen from the round silver canister that Jenny glued a family photo to last Father's Day. He smiled at the picture. He turned the pages until he reached a blank one. He carefully wrote the date in the top right corner. He tapped the pen on the desk a couple of times as he pondered where to start. He set the pen down, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. He looked at the poster of the Firemen's prayer that hung on the wall. He knew those words well. All firemen did. He leaned forward and picked up the pen. "I guess I should start at the beginning," he said aloud.
Captain Stanley sighed and started to write. Today was one of the most terrifying days in my life. Today, I almost lost most of the crew. The morning started off like most mornings. The coffee was beyond bad, I think Chet made it. I doled out the morning duties and I read a memo sent by the Chief saying he wanted us to check the hydrants on Hanover and Manchester streets. As soon we were all set to check the water mains, the tones went off. I don't know why, but I had a knot in the pit of my stomach and I knew that something was going to happen. I'm really not sure why, I've heard those tones go off a thousand times. This was for an apartment complex fire. The captain sighed as he took a sip of his coffee. It was a bit stronger than he liked but he was grateful for it nonetheless. He closed his eyes and recalled what happened next. He opened his again continued to write.
When we arrived and saw flames shooting out of a window on the third floor, I called for a second alarm and ordered everyone to suit up. The manager told me there were still people on the third floor. He was sure everyone on the first two floors made it out okay. Mike was manning the pumps and I sent Marco and Chet in with the hose, and Johnny and Roy in to search for victims. My men, my friends, went up the stairs to the second floor and started a room-to-room search on my orders. I wasn't there. I wasn't with them. I feel so damn guilty when I send them in without me. I know my job is to stay outside and take command, but I still can't help feeling guilty. Roy told me what happened when they reached the third floor. He said that they saw smoke filling the hallway. I know that kind of smoke. It's so dark you can hardly see your hand in front of your face. The heat was probably almost unbearable too, although Roy would never say it. He knows that I know what that heat feels like. They started a door-to-door search looking for anyone. A young man had been sleeping and didn't know about the fire. Johnny and Roy were going to take him downstairs but ran into Don and Stan from Company 10 and they took the man down. Roy said that's when they heard the screaming coming from apartment 230. Chet and Marco sprayed the door as Roy kicked it in. They all started searching and yelling for anyone inside. Roy and Johnny found two young kids and their mother in the bedroom huddled in a corner by a window. One of the ladder trucks was at another fire on Federal Street and the other hadn't arrived yet. It was coming from the other end of the county and was still ten minutes out and Chet informed me that the fire was approaching them. I could hear the urgency and fear in his voice. There was not time for anything except the life net Company 12 had. It was quickly unfolded it.
Roy said the woman and kids were scared to death but he managed to talk her into allowing him to carefully drop her seven year old son out of the window. I can just picture Roy using that soft calm voice of his to convince her. Her ten year old son was next. Rachael, the mother, looked out of the window and saw her kids unharmed in the arms of their father who had just arrived on scene. Roy said she had a smile on her face as she jumped. Company 10 had rescued three others from the building. The manager said everyone was accounted for. I felt relieved, but only for a moment.
Captain Stanley set the pen down and drank the last of his coffee. He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He knew he couldn't shake off the memory of what happened next. Fear ran through is entire body as he relived the next few moments. He reached for the pen and began to finish today's entry.
The next thing I knew, I heard Chet's voice telling me the floor was giving way. Then I heard the crashing sound through Chet's mic. He keyed it as the floor gave way sending them crashing to the floor below. I gotta admit, my heart skipped a few beats. I think I even quit breathing. I looked at Mike who was just as shocked and terrified as I was. I wanted to rush in. I wanted to be in there with them. But I wasn't. I was outside watching and listening. Every fireman was silent. They were all listening to their radio for signs of life. Company 10 was closest to the third floor and they scrambled to get there. That's when I heard the sweetest sound I think I've ever heard. Chet keyed his mic and said they were all okay. They met the guys from Company 10 as they headed out. When they got outside, they dusted themselves off like nothing happened. I often think of quitting. Sometimes, it's just too much. But I can't quit. I can't give up on them or myself. I need to tell Emily that I understand why she trembles when I leave the house. I love her so much. Tomorrow before we all leave for home, I'll tell the men how proud I am of them. I don't say it nearly enough, not nearly enough.
Captain Stanley stopped writing a minute. He tapped his pen on the desk then he chewed on the end of it before continuing.
I think someone should make a television series of the things we do, the good and the bad. Maybe they could mix in some of the funny things that go on around a firehouse that we do to relieve some of the stress. They could call it 'Emergency!'
"It will never happen, but I'd watch it," the captain said. He put the pen back in its proper spot. He placed the journal in the desk drawer and locked it. Captain Stanley turned out the office light just before closing the door. He made his way back to the bunk room. He stood in the doorway feeling very proud of each of the sleeping men. These men were so much more than just his subordinates, they were his friends and they were family. He walked to his bed and pulled back the covers and mumbled, "Sometimes, a good day is when everyone gets to go home and today, everyone gets to go home." He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and went to sleep.
The End
Note: The life net was also known as a Browder Life Safety Net. It was also called a jumping sheet. It allowed people on upper floors of burning buildings to jump to safety. It was invented in 1887 by Thomas Browder. The practical height limit for successful use of the life net was about six stories, although there were reports of people surviving from as high as eight stories. The ladder truck made the life net obsolete in the 1980s because it made it possible for firefighters to carry out rescues more safely, at greater heights and with smaller crews. Many examples of life nets are on display in firefighting historical museums.