Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, January 30, 1995 TAG: 9502010004
SECTION: NEWSFUN PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: LISA GARCIA STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
A red phone rings.
Someone confirms what they all know and says, ``It's a fire. We're going.''
In seconds, the kitchen table is empty.
An alarm fills the station, a second signal to the group. Danger is the message and speed is the key to handling the emergency.
The men of B shift at Roanoke's Fire Station No. 2 on Noble Avenue near Williamson Road have been called to action.
The station's fire engine team answers the call. Belted into their seats, they head to the address the dispatcher rattles over the radio. A dispatcher is the person who answers the phone when people call 911. That person calls the firefighters and tells them where to go and what to expect when they get there.
Lt. Jeff Beckner is driving, weaving the fire engine among vehicles like a race-car driver. Some cars pull to the right side of the road as the law requires; others stubbornly remain in the way, seemingly frozen by the siren and flashing red lights.
This emergency is not too serious. A car fire. When they arrive, it is not even smoking.
Capt. Audie Ferris says the car's catalytic converter - a filter that reduces the amount of pollution in a car's exhaust - had ignited.
Firefighter Tim Parry and Ferris inspect the car and write down the details for a report. The fire engine is quieter now - its red lights flutter like a panting dog's tongue after a game of catch.
The trip back to the station is slow after the bullet-like ride to the car fire. It is one of many trips the crew will make this Friday night.
Why do firefighters risk their lives, face whole days and nights away from their families and miss dinners at home?
The answer is complicated. They all agree, however, ``you have to want it.''
Saving lives is part of the answer.
It happens often, as during the Jan. 2 apartment fire on Rutgers Road in Roanoke. Within 45 minutes firefighters had suffocated the flames, but some people had lost everything. Five people were fortunate despite those losses. They had been rescued by the firefighters and escaped with their lives. If not for the firefighters' skills, those people might have died.
Some firefighters, like Mark Brown who rides the ladder truck, are what the guys call ``legacies.'' His father was a firefighter and he is carrying on the tradition. Brown's brother also is a firefighter.
The station's ladder truck differs from the fire engine mainly because it carries a ladder. When the ladder is extended it is 10 stories tall. It is used to rescue people trapped in the upper floors of buildings.
Two people drive the ladder truck. It has two steering wheels. Lt. Brent Berry sits at the back end of the truck and makes it follow the front end using his own steering wheel.
Riley Peters, captain of the ladder truck, said he was hooked on firefighting after visiting a station nearly 21 years ago. His enthusiasm has not worn off, nor has his perspective on why he is there.
When asked what the best part of his job is, he said, ``The best time is when there are no calls, because then we know everyone is safe.''
Although there are lots of reasons to be scared when they are fighting a fire, Perry said firefighters don't have time to worry. They only have time to think about how to do their job.
Fear would keep many people away from this scene: One walks into a burning building and immediately is blinded by smoke. The only way to search for the source of the fire or people trapped in it is to feel along walls and over furniture.
The roar of the flames and the safety equipment make firefighters nearly deaf. Any communication must be shouted through air-tank masks.
Firefighters wear nearly 70 pounds of gear. The air tanks weigh about 40 pounds. That's like fighting a fire with your little brother or sister riding on your back. Sometimes they carry in a section of hose that adds another 45 pounds.
During a serious fire, the ceiling of a room can cave in without warning - all good reasons to be scared.
Two firefighters told of their scariest moments.
Ferris and ladder truck Lt. Roger Manuel both had their air hoses ripped open while inside a burning building. They heard the escaping air and knew someone was in trouble. It was a moment before they realized it was them. They breathed in, but no air filled their masks.
``I thought I was going to die,'' said Manuel, who escaped unharmed.
Ferris reached safety only after he ran and fell headlong down two flights of stairs.
When a break came between calls, which can be only seconds or as long as hours, the crew demonstrated the skill needed to operate fire hoses.
Using the smaller of two hoses, which pumps 100 gallons of water per minute, takes muscle. The force of the rushing water makes holding the hose like a tug of war.
But it's not the biggest hose the firefighters use. The next size up is 2 1/2 inches in diameter and 250 gallons of water pulse from its nozzle each minute! It takes at least two firefighters and sometimes three to properly use it. Its main job is to fight fires from the outside of a building. The smaller hose is used inside burning buildings.
Back at the station it's dinner time and Parry's tacos, refried beans and Spanish rice are greeted by the "family" of firefighters with compliments. No one grabs a plate, though, until Chief Garry Basham says a prayer.
The men eat and joke about whose turn it is to wash dishes - just like brothers.
They got to work around 8 a.m., knowing their shift would not end till the next morning. For 24 hours they are on constant alert. Ready to fight a fire, offer medical help or conduct search and rescue missions. For the next 24 hours the fire station is their home.
Parry's taco dinner is followed by a lively discussion that covers politics, gossip and more jokes.
Suddenly, the red phone rings and alarms go off. It is an apartment fire.
The ladder truck crew disappears in a flash. Ferris says it may be hours before they return.
It's beginning to look like a long night for the firefighters at Station No. 2.
by CNB