"A Heavenly Cause"
Chapter Three
Hank recognized his superior officer and groaned inwardly.
It was none other than old 'By-the-Book' Bergmann.
The guy knew all the department manuals—inside-and-out, and could quote regulations—word-for-word. Unfortunately, when it came to dealing with the men under his command, Old Bergie didn't have a clue.
Bergmann saw the numbers on the new arrival's helmet and looked down at his list. "I want you and your men to assist 12's engine crew with an interior attack on the fire floor. I'm assigning your rescue guys to sweep the building."
Hank heard the orders and winced. "123's rig broke down about three blocks back."
"So I heard."
"How long before another ladder truck and the additional companies get here?" the Captain tactfully inquired, knowing full well that neither had even been requested. "The men won't hold up for long in this heat, and, if the pressure in the main drops, we'll have to switch to an exterior attack."
Bergmann 'harrumphed', but then raised his HT to his lips. "L.A., Battalion 10. Respond a second and third alarm—and an additional ladder company—to this location."
"10-4, Battalion 10...Station 16, Engine 18, Engine 32, Station 36, Station 45, Ladder 110…Structure fire...""
'One down.' Stanley drew a deep breath in and readdressed his superior. "Who's assigned to the roof? Without ventilation, we'll be working blind."
"Of course. You and your crew will be in charge of ventilation," the chagrined fire chief quickly reassigned.
'Two down.' "Has the gas been shut off?"
Bergmann nodded.
'Three down.' The Captain exhaled an audible sigh of relief and headed back over to his crew.
His profusely perspiring men were huddled there on the hot pavement, patiently awaiting their marching orders…air-pacs already strapped in place…fire axes, and Haligans in hand…the K-12 and more hotel pacs resting at their feet.
51's Captain quickly donned his own SCBA. "We're gonna be working the roof," he informed his engine crew. Hank snugged up his airpac's straps and his squinting gaze shifted to his paramedics. "The Chief wants you two 'to sweep the building'," he parroted, failing miserably to contain his disbelief. "Head on up to the top and start working your way down. I'll have 16's or 36's guys relieve you when they get here," he reasonably re-ordered. "Then, I want you to find some shade and set up a REHAB. We're gonna be needing it!"
All five of his men nodded acknowledgment of their assignments. Then they picked up their ventilation tools and followed their C.O. over to the apartment complex's main entrances.
John swiped the salty sweat from his stinging eyes. "Man, I hope the elevators are still working," he said in an aside to his equally perspiring partner.
"Yeah," Roy breathlessly agreed. He swiped the sweat from his own stinging eyes and glanced up. "Which fourth floor are we supposed to start on?"
Hank overheard the sweeper's comment. "Stick to the fire wing…for now."
All six firemen stepped through the building's left entrance and then headed for the elevators.
Less than twenty minutes of sweeping later…
51's paramedic team came staggering back out of the building. Working in such oppressive heat and humidity had sapped both their air and their energy much faster than normal.
The pair peeled their helmets and masks off and went stumbling over to their rescue squad, to begin setting up a REHAB, slipping their SCBA's and sweat-drenched turn-out coats off along the way.
They set their coats, helmets and empty air-pacs down beside the Squad.
John retrieved a couple of fresh air bottles from the back of their truck and their SCBA's empties were quickly swapped out.
That task completed, the pair promptly began surveying the area for a 'shady' place to set up.
But there wasn't a tree in sight.
They settled for the growing shadow on the breezy side of Big Red and started pulling salvage and overhaul tarps from one of her rear compartments.
"I think we're gonna be our REHAB's first guests," Johnny only half-jokingly predicted as he and his equally spent buddy began shaking the tarps out and covering the blistering blacktop beneath their feet.
"I know we're gonna be its first guests," Roy corrected. "Cap was right. It was brutal in there!" he added and collapsed onto one of the tarps. The thick layer of canvas did little to protect his backside from the asphalt's burning heat. "But then, it's brutal out here, too."
Chief Bergmann came stomping up, just as Johnny was about to join his complaining companion on the ground. "What are the two of you doing out here?" he demanded. "You can't possibly have completed your assignment already!"
The two sweepers exchanged a couple of 'Is this guy for real?' glances.
As if the insufferable heat wasn't enough, they had to have some hard-nosed Battalion Chief on their case.
"We cleared the fourth floor and half of three," John patiently replied. "Then, 16's relieved us."
"Relieved you?"
"Our air bottles were empty and neither of us was in physical condition to continue 'our assignment'," Roy respectfully added. "We're setting up a REHAB."
"REHAB?" the fire officer repeated, his face filled with disdain. "They sure don't make firemen like they used to."
"A fact for which we can all be eternally grateful," DeSoto muttered, just beneath his breath.
Gage caught his companion's quiet comment and had everything he could do to keep from smiling. He considered mentioning the deplorable working conditions inside the building, and their double-shift duty, but then thought better of it. He had a feeling it would have just been a waste of breath.
Bergmann managed another 'harrumph' before spinning on his heels and heading back over to his car.
The moment the Chief's back had turned, John had dropped to the ground beside his buddy. "Ouch!" he exclaimed as his backside promptly began to burn. "I think we should have added another layer."
"I know we should have added another layer," his already rump-roasted companion quickly came back.
The two of them helped each other back up onto their still unsteady legs and began tugging more salvage and overhaul covers from Red's rear compartment.
Two addition layers of tarp later…
51's paramedics were seated, back-to-back, in REHAB, their re-donned helmets shading their stinging eyes from the late afternoon sun's blazing brightness.
DeSoto swiped a ticklish bead of sweat from the tip of his nose. "I could go for a gallon a' Gatorade, right about now."
"Orange? Or Lemon-Lime?"
"Yes."
Gage grinned. "I got some Gatorade gum in the glove compartment."
"Gatorade gum?"
"Yeah. Want some?"
"Gatorade gum? Does it taste anything like Gatorade?"
"It tastes like shit. Which is why it's in the glove compartment instead of my shirt pocket."
"Thanks. But, I think I'll pass."
"You could always down a couple a' bags a' normal saline. That's gotta be pretty close to Gatorade. No?"
"No." Roy suddenly realized something and raised his blurry gaze to the apartment complex's roof.
The billowing black clouds of smoke that had been coming from the corner of the third floor were now venting through the roof, directly above the fire. The flames had opened the fourth floor's floor and their engine crew had opened the roof. So…where were they?
Roy's sweaty brow furrowed. "Shouldn't our guys have been back by now?"
John's sweat-soaked head swung in the burning building's direction and he gave it a worried once over.
The location and color of the smoke had changed. Cap and the guys had completed their assignment. So…where were they?
Before Gage could give voice to his growing concern, a rather disturbing call came in over their radios. According to 12's Captain, the third floor had just suffered a ceiling collapse—with entrapment.
Both paramedics were on their feet and back in their gear, before Command could even finish acknowledging Yaeger's 'Mayday' call. The pair grabbed some pry bars and the Ajax and went trotting over to the Chief's car.
The Chief eyed the new arrivals warily. "You guys all 'rehabilitated' now?"
"Yes, Sir!" the rescue team responded, in unison.
"Good! Because I want the two of you to assist Squad 36 with the ceiling collapse up on three."
"Yes, Sir!" the paramedics readily, and relievedly, acknowledged, again speaking in perfect unison. The pair spun on their heels and began heading for the building's left front entrance at a jog.
They met up with the guys from 36's at the elevator. All four rescue men went 'on air' as they rode up to the fire floor.
The stiflingly hot and stuffy lift's doors slid open and Captain Stanley and his engine crew appeared. They had been descending the stairs when the 'collapse' call came in. And, since their air bottles were still nearly full, Hank had stopped on three to render their assistance.
His paramedics exchanged extremely relieved glances.
"Where were you guys?" DeSoto demanded.
"Yeah," Gage irritatedly added. "We were beginning to get worried."
"After all that exertion, Cap figured we could use a little breather," Kelly replied, his voice muffled from speaking through his facemask.
"Yeah," Marco continued, as all eight rescuers began advancing down the ridiculously dark, soggy hallway, following two snaking lines of fully charged hose. "You wouldn't believe how breezy it is up there. Very refreshing!"
"What do we got, Steve?" Hank asked his fellow Captain when they'd gone as far as they could go.
Yaeger directed the beam of his light down the hall. Through a haze of smoke and steam, a fifteen foot long pile of rubble appeared. "Two a' my guys and one of 16's are under there—somewhere. They claim they're not injured. Seems they just can't move under all that weight."
"We should be able to do something about that," Hank assured him. "All right guys, start digging!"
The guys set their equipment down, freeing up their gloved hands. Then everybody began hefting and heaving broken 4x8 hunks of crumbling sheetrock* out of the way and flinging soggy ceiling tiles, metal stripping, and light fixtures aside.
The rescue was progressing both smoothly and quickly when Roy's HT, and the radios in the two Captains' pockets, suddenly crackled to life and another alarming call came in—this one announcing that interior crews had just lost all pressure in their attack lines.
The firemen stopped for an instant or two to stare solemnly down at the now flattened hoses beneath their feet, but then all nine of them promptly resumed working—at an even more rapid pace.
Not two minutes later, the continuous 'Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk' sound of an engine's air-horn filled the steamy hallway.
Bergmann was closing the building.
TBC
Author's Note:
*When sheetrock gets wet, it loses its structural integrity, becoming soft and weak, often leading to ceiling collapses.
*wave wave* Thanks for all the feedback—er, fuel for my typing fingers. :D