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Fire Story: Bushwick

All my years of training could have never prepared me for what happened on that frigid, windswept January night. Flame danced from the top floor windows of the crumbling, vacant tenement building I�d stood in front of. Sprawled at my feet was a burning pile of black and yellow stripes. The stench of burnt flesh mixed with wood as I tried to focus on what were actually three firefighters who�d plunged from a third-floor window onto the cold, hard, sidewalk below. A sudden eruption of flame, fed by ferocious wind had chased the trio to the front windows.

While perched on the narrow sill, flames licked violently at their backs. Ladders were frantically ripped from the trucks to attempt rescue of the three, but not fast enough! One by one -thud, thud, thud their bodies collided with the unyielding concrete. Broken and lifeless they lied there, their blood pooling with the water being used to put out the smoldering fire on their charred backs.

Not one of them stirred. My frozen stare revealed the panic I was feeling as burning debris continued to rain down on the fallen heroes. A sea of firefighters swarmed the scene and as if controlled by one mind a dozen hands embraced the broken bodies and lifted them to shelter.

My radio crackled with the report of another firefighter trapped inside the building. My men and I realized what we had to do. W reached down inside for every drop of strength and courage I could muster. We dragged out hose line into the inferno, and up the charred staircase, in search of another fallen brother.

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