"A Heavenly Cause"
Chapter Four
The fire that had ravaged the apartments at the end of the third floor hall had been beaten into submission and its fuel supply had been soaked to the max.
But its offshoots remained very much alive, protected from the firemen's lethal hose spray, and left to freely play, behind charred walls, blackened floor boards, and soggy ceilings.
There were plenty more apartments and a lot dryer fuel for their flickering flames to feast on.
Now, no longer under attack, these tentacles of the main fire continued to feed…and grow.
It wasn't long before the entire third-floor hallway was re-filled with its oily, black, blinding smoke.
Fire operations on the building's B-side had just begun to transition from attack to overhaul, when the 'ceiling collapse with entrapment' occurred.
The hook end of Fortney's pike pole had dislodged more than just a 'chunk' of the waterlogged sheetrock. It had managed to take down a whole 'hunk' of it. The weight of that sizable section of ceiling had flattened him, and two other guys, to the floor, pinning their outstretched arms above their helmeted heads. "Ouch!" the entrapped overhauler cried out, as an unseen member of their rescue party stepped on his right glove. "Watch the hand!"
"Rick!" his Captain relievedly exclaimed, "You hurt anywhere? Besides your hand?"
"Can't really tell yet, Cap!" Rick called back. "I should know more when I can mov—!" The trapped man's comment was interrupted by the loud clanging of his SCBA's 'low air' alarm.
His fellow firefighters must have found the sound 'alarming' all right, because their already rapid efforts to free him suddenly picked up a notch or two.
Less than sixty seconds later, the last bit of debris had been lifted from Rick's back.
Following a brief interrogation and completely blind inspection, two of the four paramedics on scene finally deemed that their first victim was, indeed, fit to travel.
"Gage! Kelly! Escort Rick, here, down and out!" Stanley ordered.
Fortney felt himself being pulled to his feet. His freed arms were draped around 'Gage' and 'Kelly's' necks and he was immediately escorted 'down and out'.
The two rescuers reached fresh air just as their burden's bottled air supply ran completely dry.
Rick freed his arms and frantically whipped his helmet and facemask off. "Good timing, guys!" he gasped with a big, toothy grin.
The 'guys' removed their helmets and masks and returned his grin.
45's paramedics latched onto Fortney's freed arms. He tugged his right free, and one of his thick leather gloves off, and gave each of his helpers' hands a hearty shake—before finally being whisked away.
His escorts tipped their sweat-soaked, slightly spinning heads back and gazed solemnly up at the 'closed' building.
The now unimpeded fire was once again engulfing an entire corner of its third floor, and, judging by the additional smoke-billowing windows, a good portion of the corners of the second and fourth floors, as well.
Their glum gazes lowered.
The supply line, connecting 10's and 12's engines to the complex's standpipe, remained completely limp.
There was still no pressure in the mains.
Gage and Kelly exchanged a couple of exceedingly grim glances.
Attack crews still had no water and their fellow rescuers would soon have no air.
A few anxious minutes later, four more rescuers came stumbling out of the now freely burning building, carrying the other member of 12's engine crew.
Captain Yaeger had a firm hold on his lineman's left arm.
Captain Stanley was gripping his right.
Marco and one of 36's paramedics each had a leg.
Their burden was half lowered and half dropped onto a waiting gurney, and promptly rolled over to where Squad 45 was parked.
The injured man's escorts were coughing so violently, and were apparently so wiped out, that they needed to be assisted over to REHAB.
A few even more anxious minutes later…
"Eleven," Kelly counted aloud, as Mike, and the other paramedic from 36's, came coughing out, carrying the lineman from 16's. "Leave it to Roy to be the last one out."
Upon being relieved of their burden, ten and eleven had dropped to their knees and doubled up in painful fits of coughing.
Gage and Kelly exchanged looks of growing alarm.
A dozen firefighters had occupied that hallway.
So then, where the hell was number twelve?!
John went stomping up to Mike. "Where's Roy?!"
Stoker didn't answer him. He was coughing too hard at the moment to speak.
"Where is my partner?!" John re-demanded of his fellow paramedic.
Neil Capadelli was suffering from some smoke inhalation, himself. He pulled the non-rebreather mask that was being pressed over his nose and mouth down. "There was another collapse!" he somehow managed to get out between coughs. "Rob had our radio."
John's alarm promptly switched to anger. "You left him there?!"
Mike pulled his own O2 mask down. "Back off, John," the engineer gently ordered, between his own bouts of painful coughing. "We were out of air…couldn't find the…porta-power…We tried to get him out…honest…But the heat must've sapped our strength…And Briggs over there…was in no condition… to help us dig."
John unclenched his jaw and nodded his understanding, but didn't hang around to apologize to Capadelli for his angry outburst. He just turned and went trotting off in the direction of their Squad, looking very determined.
Kelly was torn between following Gage or helping their still fitfully coughing co-worker over to REHAB. He exhaled a resigned sigh and started hauling the exhausted engineer back up onto his unsteady feet.
Gage reappeared in front of the building less than two minutes later. He'd donned a fresh air-pack and was toting an extra one, along with 36's porta-power.
Two of Battalion 10's linemen were stationed out front, blocking access to both entrances.
"The Chief has closed the building," the lineman in front of the left entrance informed the paramedic as he attempted to go in. "Nobody goes inside until we get water."
"Look, my partner's still up there and he's out of air!"
"Operations have shifted to an exterior attack."
"I don't intend to 'attack' anything! This is a rescue! Please?! I'm trying to save my partner!"
But 10's guys continued to deny him access.
Gage quickly shed his rescue equipment and gear and headed off in search of Neil Capadelli's partner, Rob Turcott.
"Rob!" John breathlessly blurted as he came running up. "I need to borrow your radio for a few seconds."
Rob didn't say a word. He simply unclipped their HT from his belt and handed it over.
"Thanks!"
'First our porta-power and now our radio…Just what are you up to, Johnny?' Turcott watched in growing confusion as Gage went racing off in the direction of the Chief's car, where a group of station captains seemed to be gathered…and a great deal of shouting seemed to be going on.
Bergman, who was on the receiving end of all the shouting, threw his arms up, but not in surrender. "Water tenders have been dispatched! 110's snorkel should be arriving any second now. It shouldn't take them too long to get into posit—"
"—We don't leave one of our own behind!" 51's Captain continued to protest, as his straining ears failed to detect the sound of approaching sirens.
"We are out of water!" the Battalion Chief shouted back, by way of a reminder.
Stanley's dark eyes narrowed into icy slits. "And DeSoto is out of air! We're wasting time here!"
His fellow fire officers vehemently voiced their agreement.
"Regulations clearly sta—"
"—Sometimes the rules need to be bent a little!" Yaeger shouted, cutting the Chief's by-the-book comment short.
John Gage came trotting up just then, brandishing his borrowed HT. "Chief?! Chief?!" It took four more shouted 'Chief!'s before he finally caught the beleaguered Battalion Chief's attention. The paramedic raised the borrowed radio in his hand. "Permission to try to reach my partner?" he inquired, looking and sounding hopeful.
Bergmann gave the annoyance a disinterested nod and turned his full attention back to his angry officers and the little 'rule revolt' they were staging.
John returned the radio to its rightful owner and himself to the complex's left front entrance. His coat, helmet and air-pac were quickly re-donned. He slung the extra SCBA's straps back over his left shoulder, picked the borrowed porta-power back up and attempted, once again, to gain access to the 'closed' building. "The Chief has given me permission to try to reach my partner," he truthfully told the two door guards.
But the pair remained unconvinced.
"If you don't believe me, just ask him," Gage invited.
The guard on the right raised their radio to his lips and thumbed its send button, "Battalion 10 from HT 10…"
"Bergmann here. Go ahead, HT 10…"
"Chief, did you give—"
"One of 51's paramedics," John helpfully supplied.
"—one of 51's paramedics permission to try to reach his partner?"
"Yes."
'Man, are you in trouble!' John chided himself as he brushed passed the lineman on the left and then disappeared into the building.
"Why?"
"Just checking, Sir. Our orders were: Nobody goes inside until we get water."
Their HT crackled back to life just in time to catch the tail end of an exasperated gasp. "I meant with a RADIO!"
Both guards winced.
The one on the left poked his helmeted head into the lobby.
But, the sneaky paramedic was long gone.
Speaking of the sneaky paramedic…
Captain Stanley had realized in an instant what John was up to. He had given the retreating rescuer's back the slightest of smiles, before heading off himself, in the direction of REHAB.
Hank had been a fire officer long enough to know the role 'politics' played in handing out promotions.
Ever since he'd assumed the role of Chief Engineer, Bill Jenner had been doing his damnedest to rid the LACFD of its 'Good Old Boys' mentality—where promotions were based more on who and what you knew than on how qualified you were to lead the men under your command.
But Bergmann was living proof that a few vestiges of it must still remain.
This particular problem had been brewing for years.
'How appropriate,' Hank thought, 'that it should all come boiling over now, on the hottest damn day of the year!'
Damn Bergmann! And damn department regulations! You NEVER leave one of your own behind!
"John's gone back inside to rescue Roy," the Captain informed his engine crew when he finally arrived at REHAB.
His men exchanged astonished glances.
"You sure about that, Cap?" Kelly inquired, giving voice to their disbelief.
Hank nodded. "C'mon! Gear up! We're gonna go help him!"
Speaking of help…
His guys exchanged grins and obediently began assisting one another up off the pavement.
"I love this man!" Chet said in an aside to his amigo.
"Me, too," Marco whispered right back.
Craig Brice heard the officer's order and placed himself between Hank and his crew. "Your plan is commendable, Captain. But, neither you—or your men—have received medical clearance yet. None of you are in any condition, at the moment, to return to work." Craig saw the fire officer's mouth opening and headed the unhappy Captain's protest off at the pass. "You go in there now, and start collapsing, and more men will end up having to risk their lives to save the four of you."
The Captain swore beneath his breath but didn't argue with Brice. He realized the infuriating little fellow was probably right.
You don't leave one of your own behind and you don't place yourself in a position that would recklessly endanger the lives of your fellow firefighters, either.
Hank felt someone's hand on his right shoulder and turned to see who it belonged to.
36's Captain and engine crew had already been released from REHAB. He and his men were standing there beside Big Red, all geared up, and looking both ready and eager to return to work.
Dave Carlton gave his fellow Captain's shoulder a reassuring slap. "Don't worry, Hank. We'll get your guys down for you."
51's guys gave 36's guys looks of undying gratitude.
Carlton and his well-rested crew turned and went trotting off toward the 'about to be forcibly reopened' apartment complex's left front entrance.
TBC