Chapter 17:

(Two weeks later, mid-August.)

"Do you think you can get down there?"

The paramedics assessed the steep slope, their eyes landing on the heap of twisted metal at the bottom. Hank stood next to them, closely watching their reaction.

"I don't think there's much of a choice." John stated.

"It's a big slope. The lines might not make it." Mike too had been assessing the scene.

"We've got to chance it. With the fire out in the canyon, there aren't any helicopters around and we sure aren't making it on a boat. Too rough in there. We'd capsize." John was already tightening his harness.

"Go one at a time. If you can't make it to the bottom, we'll think of something different." Hank approved Mike's order.

"I'll go first." Johnny was already walking toward the engine, tying a line around the fender. Roy went after him.

"Mike, let Dennis handle the rig. I'm gonna need you out here for this one."

Nodding, Mike went to fill in the engineer who was newly assigned to Station 51. It was his third shift with them, but he had a decorated resume.

Okay, the scene is secured. We've got police blocking civilians, no immediate signs of danger, and all the crew is accounted for.

Hank began the mental checklist he'd perfected years ago.

His heart lurched as he again looked down the cliff. He hoped they weren't too late.

"More slack!" John yelled as loud as he could, but his voice was mostly drowned out by the wind. He did however, feel the line give a little. Knowing that it was likely all the space they'd give, he let his weight fall onto the line as he descended the slope.

At the top of the cliff, Hank anxiously watched as more and more of the rope slithered over the edge.

Please tell me you're getting close to the bottom.

Cliff rescues were some of his least favorite.

As the men fed more line to Johnny, his weight suddenly vanished.

He must be at the bottom.

"Hold the line steady." He commanded.

He cautiously walked to the edge and peered over. What he saw made his heart skip three beats.

John stood on a small jut on the otherwise smooth slope. From the distance, the jut hadn't been visible. It blended into the rock and sand beneath it. Now, with Johnny's body juxtaposed against the slate face, it was clear just how jagged the rocks became at the bottom.

"Engine 51 to H.T. 51. Do you copy?"

John pulled the H.T. from his pack.

"This is H.T. 51."

"Johnny, what's the situation?"

"It's rough. If I go any further the lines are gonna fray on these rocks."

"Okay, come back up. We will have to go about this a different way."

"Cap, there is no other way."

"John, the lines will fray. You can't reach the victims."

"Cap, there is one way."

His heart dropped. He knew that tone. It was one John used whenever he was going to do something dangerous.

"I can free climb it."

Damnit, I knew he was gonna say that.

"John, no. It's too dangerous."

Panic began to flutter in his chest.

"Cap? The wreck is bad. It's all twisted and flattened. I don't know if it's possible for a person to survive this kind of accident. What I do know is that if they are still alive, I have to get to them now."

"Stand by, John."

He took a few steps back, worried that the sudden light-headedness would cause him to also stumble over the edge.

"Cap? We could send down some tools so that he could rig a line in the rock. That way he'd have more control over how the rope lays against the rock edge." Mike suggested.

"Normally I would agree with that Mike," Roy interjected, "but this time I agree with Johnny. We're out of time. It's now or never."

Hank knew both of his men were right. If they had more time, Mike's suggestion would have been the safest and most effective. Given the situation, Roy's judgement was more logical.

"H.T. 51?"

"Go ahead."

"Johnny, do you think you can climb it? We can send down an anchor and another line."

"Not enough time. I've got to chance it. There's a lot of little pockets that I can get my footing in. When I get to the bottom, I'll radio back up and let you know what I've got."

"10-4. And Johnny? Please be careful."

"Always am."

He closed his eyes and turned his face upwards. A short prayer parted his lips, but he would never be able to recall what he said. With Roy and Mike holding an intense vigil at the cliff's edge, Hank retreated back towards where the rest of the men gathered.

"Cap?" Chet asked. He'd heard the exchange. His eyes were open wide with fear.

"He knows what he's doing." He gave Chet a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

The captain from 8's motioned Hank to follow him away from the group.

"Is he gonna be able to get down?"

"Yeah. Gage is the best climber in the department. If anyone can, it would be him."

Time seemed to stop. Hank hated when that happened. As the seconds ticked by, the radio played charades. It was a cricket each time.

Come on Johnny. Please be okay.

Skillfully scrutinizing Roy's face for any information as to John's state, he noticed that despite the obvious concern (and fear), the man was otherwise calm.

So far so good.

He wanted to call his friend through the HT and find out what was happening, but he knew that doing so might distract, even startle, him enough that he'd lose his footing.

As he intently watched Roy, he felt the other captain watching him. Uncomfortable, he swallowed his apprehension and took a few steps toward Roy. As he did, an expression of relief passed over his face.

"He's down! He's checking on the victims now."

A collective sigh overcame the group. The radio still remained silent.

Finally, after several long minutes, the H.T. sprang to life.

"Uh, Engine 51, this is John."

"What's the story, John?"

"Engine 51, we have three victims, all DOA." The pain in his voice was chilling. "I'm on my way back up now."

This was one of the tougher aspects of the profession. Despite all the best efforts, sometimes there was nothing to be done.

Another few minutes passed before John called over the radio again.

"I'm ready to ascend. Tell me when you're ready at the top."

"Ready Hank," the other captain called.

"Go ahead John."

"10-4."

The line pulled as John made his way up the steep slope, aided by the two engine crews. When he reached the top, Roy was the first one to greet him. He wanted to run over, to grab his friend and make sure he was okay, but he knew that right now, John needed Roy and no one else.

"L.A. Engine 51, please advise that we had three victims at this scene. All were DOA. Recovery is not possible at this time."

"L.A. Engine 51. Coast Guard has been notified."

"L.A. Engine 51 out fifteen minutes."

"Engine 51."

The men went about returning the equipment to its proper place. As they did so, Hank found himself standing alone, looking over a vast drop-off.

"Captain Stanley?" It was a man from 8's who Hank didn't recognize, but the wide stripe on his helmet told Hank that he was a captain. From his sheepish approach, Hank surmised he must be a newly promoted trainee under the guidance of the station's long-time captain.

"Yes?"

"Why'd you let him do it? Why'd you let him go down there?"

He knew the real question that he was being asked.

Why did you let him risk his life like that when we all already knew that the victims were either dead or mortally wounded?

"Because I believe in trying until we exhaust all of our efforts."

"But at what cost?"

Normally he would have become defensive when his judgement was called into question. But he knew that the other man had a valid point. Besides, he could tell that the newly minted captain was only trying to learn. He considered question carefully—he wasn't sure if even he had an answer.

At what cost would it be too risky to pursue a rescue?

"If that had been Roy down there, I would have demanded that he come back up. I let Johnny do that for two reasons. First, I know his skills and capabilities. He is the only man I'd ever trust to do something like that. Second, John would have told me if it was too risky."

The first reason was true. The second, he knew was a half-truth. Johnny Gage would willingly risk his life if there was even the slightest chance that he could save someone, despite what the risks were. He'd demonstrated that very clearly.

"How do you trust your men so much?"

The truth was, he didn't know how he did. He only knew that he did. Trust, in his opinion, was something that either existed or didn't exist. He couldn't explain it. He'd tried to a week earlier at the Board meeting he'd been invited to.

"Well, Hank, thank you for joining us tonight. It was nice to meet you and finally put a face and a voice to the name."

"I agree. Your reputation is impressive, but it's good to meet the man behind it."

"I have to thank you for inviting me tonight." Hank wasn't sure what else to say.

"If nothing else, hopefully this has served as a taste of what's in store for you when you are formally promoted to Chief." Chief McConnicke said.

"It has, Sir."

"I do have one final question before we end this meeting." Commissioner Vaughn spoke up. "Most of us at this table were involved, in some way, with scoring the exams and selecting the order of the list. And most of us involved in that found one of your answers to be quite fascinating. I'd like us all to hear it."

All eyes were on Hank; dread tightened his chest.

"The essay question where you were to describe your personal view of who the Chief is and how his role should function within the department. You explained that trust is the fundamental layer on which a strong Battalion is built."

His mind went blank.

What question was that? What did I write down?

As his thoughts swirled, the Commissioner sat back, allowing him time to get his thoughts together.

He felt himself panicking. He was sinking in quicksand and high tide was rolling in. The lump in his throat doubled—he couldn't breathe.

Not now Hank. NOT NOW! You do NOT do this to yourself. You do NOT panic just because the Commissioner is asking you questions. You already passed the test. You know what you're doing.

"The Battalion Chief is the pivotal unit of a division. He is a liaison between each station and the Board. It's his job to ensure that all men are adequately trained, that short-cuts aren't being taken. I likened the position of Battalion Chief to the top of a pyramid. Within my Battalion, I hold the highest rank. But that doesn't make me the most important person. I have the job of holding the walls of this metaphorical pyramid together so that it maintains its strength and shape. But I can't hold anything together if there is nothing to hold together. Let me explain.

"This profession is built on trust. Because we deal with so many dangerous things, we have to trust our crewmates to have the skills and knowledge to handle a situation. This is most clearly seen when several units respond to a call. Oftentimes, two guys from two stations who have never met will be partnered with a hose. They both expect the other to be trained and competent. That expectation allows immediate trust to get the job done.

"I have a responsibility to these men and these men have a responsibility to me. They will follow my orders, even when those orders endanger their lives. In return, I have to try my damn hardest to keep them safe. Unfortunately, more often than not, the job demands me to send them into fire or off the edge of a cliff. Even when I have to do that, it shouldn't be a decision made recklessly. It should be a last resort or a logically sound tactic."

As he replayed those words, he felt foolish.

If only I'd seen that night that I would be sending one of my own down a cliff without a lifeline….

Remembering that he'd been asked a question, he thought about how to answer it.

"How do I trust them? Because they've never given me a reason not to trust them. I expect them to behave within the guidelines of the department code of ethics. If they don't, I, as their captain, am responsible for reporting that. As I said, they have solid intentions and motivations for what they do. Yes, they sometimes do risky things. Like today. Was it the smartest decision to allow John to free climb that cliff? No. Was it necessary? In hindsight, no. The victims were dead. But, we didn't know that at the time. If I didn't have trust in John's skills, there's no way I would have permitted him to do that. And I also have to trust that if John couldn't have safely done that, then he wouldn't have suggested it."

"This is John Gage. He has a reputation for being a risk taker."

"He is a risk taker. But he also has respect for his limitations. And believe me, most of the risks he taken in the line of duty were necessary risks."

"How do you get your men to trust your judgement?"

The conversation turned now, the younger captain asking advice from the seasoned Hank.

"Trust is built on expectation. You show them what you expect from them, they'll give it to you. But never forget that trust is a two-way street. They have expectations from you. And you have to meet those expectations in return. Whenever you can't meet them, you tell your crew why. If your crew sees that you're being honest, they'll be honest too."

"Engine 8, let's get going." The friendly, yet firm voice of his senior captain called out.

"Thank you, Captain." He turned to walk away.

"Rogers?" He called after seeing the name sewn into the turn-out coat.

The man turned back.

"You'll do fine."

The man, unable to speak, nodded, the smallest hint of a smile tentatively hovering at the corner of his mouth. Hank smiled as he watched Rogers half-run to the engine. After the engine pulled away, he returned is attention to his crew. He had a paramedic to check in with and a fledgling of his own to tend to.

Author's Note:

I promise that this story is almost done!

Again, a huge thank you for those of you who have continue to read it. It gives me inspiration to keep writing.