Give me the strength to save some life,
Whatever be its age.
Help me embrace a little child
Before it is too late;
Or save an older person from
The horror of that fate.
Enable me to be alert,
And hear the weakest shout,
And quickly and efficiently
To put the fire out.
I want to fill my calling and
To give the best in me;
To guard my every neighbor and
Protect his property
And if, according to your will
I have to give my life;
Please bless with your protecting hand
My children and my wife.
- Author Unknown
Fireman's Poem
(Author Unknown)
I wish you could know what
it is like to search a burning bedroom for trapped children at 3 AM,
flames rolling above your head, your palms and knees burning as you
crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the kitchen below you
burns.
I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 6 in the morning as I
check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR
anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too
late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible
was done to try to save his
life.
I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of
soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout
gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to
see absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become
too familiar with.
I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire "Is this a
false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What
hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?"
Or to call, "What is wrong with the patient? Is it minor or
life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting
for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"
I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces dead the
beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during
the past 25 minutes, who will never go on her first date or say the
words, "I love you Mommy" again.
I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the engine,
squad, or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing
down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air
horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection
or in traffic.When you need us however, your first comment upon our
arrival will be,"It took you forever to get here!"
I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage
years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my
daughter, sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What was her parent’s
reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a police
officer with hat in hand?"
I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my
parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly
did not
come back from the last call.
Top
