A little flash story. This one has some elements of truth to it. Wasn't me, but I was there. Sorry, no BTB, no RAAC, no cuckholding. Just a sad tale.
I have reposted this with the repeated paragraphs removed. I am not sure what happened, but I suspect it was a problem with one of the grammar and syntax checkers that I routinely use. I apologize to everyone who quickly let me know there was a problem with the posting.
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The alarm in the fire station sounded and Captain Blaine Prescott stepped to the dispatch printer next to the truck company, which he commanded. Ripping the paper from the printer, he climbed aboard the 110-foot aerial ladder platform into the passenger seat. The overhead door was fully open and with a glance back to see both of the firefighters seated and belted in the jump seats, he nodded to his equipment chauffeur. With a roar, the powerful diesel engine rolled the lengthy piece of equipment out of the fire station with lights flashing and sirens shrieking.
Truck 17 was heading downtown as a third alarm truck company on a multi-story structure fire. The trip downtown took about 6 minutes. The destination was the Downtown Marriott hotel. This wasn't his truck companies first in territory, but he knew the structure well. He had served as the Lieutenant on the first in engine company for the hotel for many years. His memory of the older building was as good as anyone in the department.
He knew that the building inspection department and the fire Marshall's office had been trying to get the building owners to upgrade the fire protection systems in the older building for years, with little luck. As the truck company approached the area, Blaine looked over the tops of the other buildings downtown to check out the 8-story hotel structure. It was easily the tallest building in the downtown area of their middle-sized suburban city. The hotel had once been an elegant mainstay of the Marriott chain, but age and an ailing downtown economy had made profits slim. A thin trail of gray smoke traced a path in the sky, coming from the elevator head house on the hotel roof.
The radio in his truck squawked his call sign.
"Truck 17 Command."
"Command Truck 17. Incoming."
"Truck 17, stage your equipment on the east side of the structure. Bring your crew with search gear to the staging area on the south side near the rear entrance."
"10-4"
That terse exchange conveyed a huge amount of information. They would not be using the 110-foot aerial ladder with its attached platform. Instead, they would mount the stairs inside the building to perform search and rescue. That would mean humping extra air bottles, axes, Kelly tools, and other assorted gear up 6 or 7 flights of stairs and manually checking rooms. Blaine's last thought as he stepped off the truck to assembly his crew was, at 48, he was getting a little too old for this sort of shit.
As he suspected, Blaine got his orders from the staging sector battalion chief. His crew would have a tactical call sign of Rescue East. He knew because of the older building's design, there were no enclosed emergency stairwells and the upper floors would rapidly fill with smoke from the grease fire in the restaurant kitchen on the first floor. Reports were many of the hotel occupants had followed the instructions following the fire alarm to close their doors and stay in place. A second truck company was already working on the West wing of the hotel, performing the same sort of tasks.
Blaine gathered his men and gave them their preliminary instructions. There was no real danger to the occupants from fire or heat. The crews had already contained the fire, but smoke was the most difficult challenge. Ventilation procedures were being started, but the acrid, thick greasy smoke made visibility on some of the lower floors almost impossible and breathing difficult.
Checking in with Command, he led his crew into the hotel and upstairs to the second floor. One man held position at the stairs while two others worked systematically down the line of doors. Each man now had a master pass key card and a pocket full of heavy rubber bands. Opening each door, they put a rubber band between the inside and outside doorknob. This prevented the door from latching closed and gave an immediately visual sign that the room was clear.
Each time a door opened and secured, the firefighter entered the room, calling loudly to announce themselves. They then did a systematic search of the interior of the room. If they found someone in the room, Captain Blaine Prescott would make the call to command that was sending survivors down the stairwell. Blaine would lead them to the stairs, start them down, knowing that another firefighter from the staging area would be on the way up to intercept them and take them to the medical triage area to be checked out.
Blaine was confident in his crew. They had worked together for over five years and had practiced this very operation countless times. These four men were like brother's and had the relationship that is understood by those who routinely stake their lives on the man beside them. They knew each other well. They knew each other's families and trusted each other unquestionably.
