Monday, November 22:
Station 127
Roll call had already been completed and the men of Station 127 were busy with their assigned tasks when the tones sounded.
"Station 127. Structure fire. 1655 South Wilmington Ave. 1-6-5-5 South Wilmington Ave. Cross street East 220th. Time out 7:56."
Seven men scrambled for the engines. Captain Walker acknowledged the call, handed one copy of the address to Steve Johnson and the other to Mark Smith, climbed up into his seat, and the rigs rolled out, sirens wailing.
127's found a very old, somewhat dilapidated three-story apartment building with thick smoke filling the top floor. No flames were visible from the street. Some people came running up to the trucks, screaming about others they feared were still inside. Captain Walker immediately reported a working fire with possible injuries to dispatch and requested a paramedic unit, another engine and a ladder truck.
"Station 51 for Station 36. Station 95. Working apartment fire with possible injuries. 1655 South Wilmington Ave. 1-6-5-5 South Wilmington Ave. Cross street East 220th. Time out 8:04." The call went out from dispatch.
Although standing assignments had already been made prior to arriving at the scene, Captain Walker still directed the men and altered the assignments as needed. Lines needed to be dropped and attached to hydrants. Ladders needed to be set up. While the firefighters donned their SCBA and protective clothing, Captain Walker made a quick tour of the perimeter.
"Gage! Shut off the gas and electricity, and begin forcible entry! Atuaia and Roberts! Positive pressure ventilation, attack team, south side! Esteves and Barnes! Positive pressure ventilation, attack team, north side! Smith! Charge the inch-and-a-half lines with water from the hydrant. Johnson! Compressed air foam in a one-inch line!
To the frightened onlookers, the scene was a confusing mass of smoke and noise. Smoke was already beginning to fill the neighborhood, with little wind to make it dissipate. The engines hummed and people shouted. To the firefighters, it was the start of a well-orchestrated battle.
Johnny had just finished ensuring that the gas and electricity were indeed shut off and was reaching for the handi-talkie when it sputtered to life in his pocket.
"HT127 to Fireman Gage. Report."
"This is Gage. Electricity and gas main are shut off. Over."
"10-4, Gage. Go to the north side of the third floor and begin venting."
"10-4"
Upon reaching the third floor, Johnny turned north and threaded his way through the maze-like hallway over to the west side to begin venting. He passed Esteves and Barnes on the way. The smoky corridor felt unusually hot. Upon reaching the last apartment, he felt the door and then opened it. Immediately, the increase in oxygen fed a whoosh of fire that rolled through the room and out into the corridor. The firefighter had dived away from the door as soon as he heard the rumble that presaged the flash. Esteves and Barnes appeared with a hose, aiming it down the hall. Thoroughly disgusted with making a rookie type of mistake, Johnny scrambled in a crouch over to the two firefighters. He was a bit singed and hot, but basically uninjured.
"Are you all right?" Esteves shouted over the roar of the flames and the hiss of the hose, his voice muffled by the SCBA.
"Yeah, I'm okay! Thanks!" Johnny ducked behind the men, stumbling over Barnes' foot on the way out.
Captain Walker had seen the flash from the street below. "Report!" his voice barked over the handi-talkie.
"Fireman Gage. It flashed upon venting. No injuries. Continuing venting. Over."
"Negative on venting. Commence search and rescue on the third floor. Out."
"10-4."
While the crew of 127's had been about their assigned tasks, the engines and the squad from the other stations had arrived at the scene.
Captain Walker directed the ladder truck to the northwest side of the building. Walker then assigned four more firefighters to attack the fire and the remaining men to search and rescue within the building.
Johnny had begun knocking on doors, loudly calling out "Fire Department!" before breaking in to search for victims. The smoke filling the hallway was thick and black, limiting visibility to only a few feet. Keeping his right hand along the wall and always moving in the same direction, he made his way from apartment to apartment, chalking a large X on the door of each unoccupied dwelling.
As he worked his way through the corridor, he met another firefighter. With more than a twinge of dismay, he recognized the man as Chet. Indicating the area behind him, he said, "This section is done. No one is inside." The other firefighter nodded, turning back in the direction from which he had come. The two continued checking the few remaining apartments on the third floor and were soon finished. They headed down the stairs to the second floor. The smoke was less thick here and they could see that one side of the hallway already had big chalk X's marked on the doors. As they worked, Johnny felt Chet looking his way several times. He was grateful for the mask that hid his face from his former crewmate. He really didn't want to see or talk to anyone from 51's. Reminders of what he had lost just two short days ago were unbearable. He didn't want their pity, couldn't stand the thought of their scorn. He believed he had not only let himself down, but had failed his friends as well.
Two more firefighters emerged from the thinning smoke. Johnny recognized Roy and Brice.
"Find anyone?" Roy asked, looking at Johnny.
"No."
"We didn't find any victims, either. I guess we were lucky this time."
Just then, a message crackled over the handi-talkie, announcing that the fire had been knocked down. A careful examination of the site revealed no more hot spots. Salvage covers were set in place and the work of pulling the ceiling down began. Most of the firefighters were involved in helping haul out the fire debris. Suddenly, an ominous creaking heralded the pending collapse of a wall. Johnny saw Roy standing next to the wall, and instead of running clear, he instinctively ran into the collapse towards his partner, yelling a warning as he ran. The last thing he saw before sheetrock folded around him was Roy being struck by a beam falling from the ceiling.
Johnny wasn't hurt, just trapped behind debris. When the noise settled, he again yelled, "Roy?"He could hear the shouts and movements of the other firefighters. "He's okay! Just a little shaken up!" a nameless voice yelled back. He heard what sounded like Roy being helped out of the building.
"You okay in there, Gage?" a different voice yelled. He heard debris being moved away from where he was stuck.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm in a pocket of drywall," he yelled back, pushing ineffectively against the debris entrapping him. While it seemed to take forever for the others to reach him, it was really only a few minutes. The first faces he saw belonged to Mark Smith and Toby Barnes.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" asked Mark again, breaking off chunks of sheet rock as he cleared an exit space.
"No." he replied, struggling to scoot out from under the debris.
"You're battin' a thousand today, skinny boy. Walker's gonna have your butt." Barnes gloated, throwing the sheet rock aside. He didn't offer Johnny a hand up.
Looking at Mark, Johnny asked, "How is Roy DeSoto? The one the beam fell on?"
"I think he's okay. Looks like he may have hurt his shoulder a little. A couple of the other guys walked him out of here."
Johnny nodded, somewhat satisfied with the report on Roy's apparent condition.