Blood, Sweat & Fire

I couldn't see a thing. I only knew there was another firefighter in front of me because we had came into the house together. All I felt was the immense heat radiating from in front of us and the steady, cold air blowing over my face from behind my mask. The muffled sound of my Assistant Chief talking us through the house from the front door, barley registered in my mind.

I crawled as low as I could with the hose tucked under my right arm and my left arm sweeping back and forth across the floor, making sure our pathway stayed clear. We finally came to the back room, where the fire originated. My vision went from, seeing absolutely nothing to seeing nothing, but a bright yellow glow.

At the time, I didn't know which was more terrifying.

For a split second, I caught myself thinking, What am I doing? What was I thinking?! Is this what I want to do? The fellow firefighter working the nozzle attacked the fire and I backed him up as I stared into the burning inferno in front of us. Though I was scared as all get out, I was determined to see it through.

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to get out.

The room filled with smoke as the yellow light grew dimmer and dimmer. I could hear our breathing start to even out as the fire was extinguished before our eyes. I had been to dozens of fire and I had felt nervous and terrified countless times before.

Maybe it's because it was only me and another rookie this time. Maybe it's because this is the first one where I truly couldn't see anything. Maybe it's because, even after 10 months of this was the first time I thought about dying.

This house; this fire, was different.

In that moment, in that smoke filled room in that house on Washington Street, I knew. I knew what it meant to do whatever you need to do no matter how much you wanted to run the opposite way. I knew what it meant to have a family at my back if anything were to happen. I knew what it meant to be a Firefighter.

It was in that moment, that I knew, this is exactly what I wanted to do.

In the beginning, I never even dreamed of being a firefighter. After I graduated high school, I hit some road blocks in my life. I got a job at the Sherriff's Office as a 911 Dispatcher. I only lasted a month. I couldn't handle being on the other end of the call and feeling like I couldn't do anything to help.

I looked up the Volunteer Fire Department in my town and went to my first meeting. I was the only girl on a department of 28 other men. It was a small country town and they were so surprised upon seeing me at the meeting that they thought I was there for community service.

Everything about me was different. I wasn't country, I wasn't religious and I wasn't a man. Some of them didn't mind how different I was and welcomed me and trained me like one of their own. Others weren't so kind.

Some nights, after a meeting, I would come home crying because I didn't feel like part of the Department. People would ask me why I didn't just quit. I couldn't; I knew that's what they wanted and I didn't join for them. I didn't join to be liked.

I spent months and months cleaning trucks until they were spotless. Countless hours racing to put my bunker gear on and off in time. Days, rolling hose and washing face masks until my arms were sore. I knew most of them would never like me, but I didn't care.

When I got voted on and I became a probationary firefighter, later that same week was my first house fire.

I remember riding in the back of the engine alone, as I watched the Lieutenant in the passenger seat rush to put all his gear on. I had never been shown how to put on the SCBA gear so I just followed what he did as we raced down the highway.

The roof of the house and the tree beside it were covered in fire and i remember being unable to look away as we pulled in by the back of the house. I followed the Lieutenant out of the truck, this was the first time he looked at me the whole ride.

"You, stay on me." He told me.

He didn't let me out of sight, checked me over more than once to make sure I was good. The whole bottom floor of the house was full of smoke and we had hose going through the inside of the house out the window and to the roof. I was holding the hose on the bottom floor.

Before he went up to the roof he asked me, "Want me to see if they'll let you up top?" I was so floored. I had a bunch of the younger boys helping me out since I joined, but he was the first adult, besides the Chief, to talk to me like everyone else. He didn't care about my personal life or the fact I was a girl, he just wanted to fight fire.

I nodded feeling excited and nervous all at once. I climbed through the window with him and he showed me all the different ways to change and hold the nozzle. He showed me how to sound the floor before I walk forward and how to pull all the dilapidated burnt walls out of the way.

We were there for hours before we finally called it a day. The family had been safely outside when we first arrived and as we all walked out of their partially destroyed home, they hugged us and shook our hands. I remember thinking to myself, I don't deserve this. I just joined...I'm just a rookie...

When we made it back into the engine and out of half of our heavy gear, my Lieutenant looked back at me. "You good?" he asked me. I told him I was great and I told him thank you.

We pulled into the station and I took all my gear off, feeling the sweat pour down my back. My long hair was a frizzy mess from the helmet and black soot covered my forearms and face. That night, I went home and took a shower as the water ran black and I remember feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

I knew, I could do this.

I told this story a hundred times to my husband, my family and friends. They all were as shocked as I was when I decided this was the path I wanted to take. They get it now, when I tell them all the stories. Sure, the adrenaline rush of cutting someone out of a car or running into a burning building is great, but it's not what made me decide. All the people who we've helped or even those we couldn't save, they all stay with me. I think about them all the time.

They say you become more desensitized to things the longer you are in the fire service; more cynical. I don't think I'll ever be that way. They may blame that on me being female, but if that's true, I don't care. The day I stop caring about the people is the day I'll quit.

That Lieutenant and more of the fellow firefighters grew to care about me more. They spoke to me every meeting and joked with me like I was just one of the guys. They'd give me grief every time I dyed my hair a weird color and they joked that it was my fault that more girls wanted to join because they me on.

2 years later, I attended my first Firefighter funeral. A good man and a father and family to all of us. It was the worse thing I ever had to prepare for. We took turns standing guard at his casket in that church. That same Lieutenant from before was there for all of us, as were the other officers.

We told jokes and stories and kept it together for the most part until the day of the funeral and the did his Last Call over the radio for all to hear. All these strong and reserved men I had come to know over the years broke down in tears. We hugged each other and cried as we watched them lower our brother in the ground.

It was surreal and like nothing I had ever experienced before. I never wanted to experience that again.

7 months later, that Lieutenant that was there for me since my very first call, had his Last Call too.

We buried them beside each other in the city cemetery.

I left for a few months after that, I think it was all too much for me.

Then, I remembered how that Lieutenant had told me how he had gotten a bad call before; a child fatality. He left the fire service for a while until he got it all figured it out. He told me that when you lose someone it sucks, but firefighting was his passion, what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

I knew I couldn't dwell forever and if they both were still alive they wouldn't want me to give up just because they were gone. Now when we go on a call I don't just think about the fire or the people who need saving. I think about my brothers and all the other fallen firefighters that lived and loved to do this. I think about them all the time.

Firefighting is my passion and no matter what other obstacles I have to overcome, I'll do it to save people's homes, lives and for those that can't do it anymore.