Fire and Ice

It was a hot day, made hotter by the flames reaching for the sky, licking at the clouds, ready to devour whatever crossed its path. We had been battling the fire for eight days. It had consumed thousands of acres already. It would continue its destruction for quite some time longer. Our only goal was to contain it. Keep the path from spreading to the towns around us.

The heat from the fire was crushing, our gear protecting us from the fire itself, but suffocating us with the weight and pressure of what we were trying to do. The steam coming off of the pond to my right was adding to the humidity in the air. Sweat poured into my eyes, stinging and blinding me, but there was no time to stop to wipe it away.

In those moments of fighting a fire, the rest of the world fades behind me. The only sounds seeping in are the roar of the fire, my own breathing and the occasional call from our captain over the radio. It feels like I'm on an alien planet, the world as I know it twisted and contorted to this sort of hell. Ghostly shadows of trees, alive with fire that is jumping and arching to join the others. Alien forms run through the forest, the fire burning on them as it painfully robs them of their lives. Those moments never really die, they live on in my nightmares.

Five months later I stand at the same spot. The snow coating the charcoaled trees and earth. The frozen pond is quiet and still. Standing here now, the distant memories begin creeping back in. Despite the cold pushing in around me, my skin grows warm. A rush and roar of fire comes to life in my ears. Fire and ice. How can these two images exist in one place?

I flash back to that day, my friend fighting the fire beside me, a tree begins to fall, the crack and whine pierces the air as it descends directly in to our path. I step back, reaching for my friend. But his collar slips through my fingers, I’m too late. The tree pulls him down with it. I call his name and turn my hose onto the tree that has him pinned. The other firefighters rush to our aid. The tree hisses as the flames succumb to the water. We move in, trying to get the tree off of him. A cry rips from my chest as I lift with all my strength.

My knees are cold. I look around and I’m kneeling in the snow. The wind blows across my tear stained cheeks and the cold resonates with what I feel inside. My breath is coming heavy and the puffs of steam float in front of my face. The peace that is here now feels wrong. The world has moved on, and I am still stuck back there. My friend survived, he lost the use of his legs and he now lives with the physical scars as a reminder, but I am haunted by the mental scars of that day. I felt helpless then, and I still do.

It’s the life I signed up for. I knew the risks then and I still understand them now, I accept them. I help people that can’t help themselves, I pull people from burning buildings and cars all the time. The more fires I beat, the stronger I feel, beating a fire is an addiction. The adrenaline is my fuel and it has gotten me through the toughest times. But what do I do now that the adrenaline has worn off and I’m left feeling helpless and empty.

My friend may have survived, but he lost a lot, and the guilt of that gnaws at my conscience every day. I should have been paying better attention, I let myself zone out and my friend got seriously hurt because of that. He could have died, we both could have died. I try to explain this to my team and to my counselor. They are always so quick to absolve my actions. But I can’t absolve myself. The counselor suggested I go to the scene of the incident, that I should go back to gain closure. So that's why I’m here, reliving one of the worst days of my life trying to close that chapter and move on.