One Hot Daddy

“Be safe,” Lexi says in a shaky voice.

“I will,” I tell her grimly. I kiss her. “Kiss Luna for me.”

I drive down the station in record speed. I knew what I was signing up for when I chose to train as a fireman. There would be many times when I would be called to put my life on the line. This is one of those times.

I find the guys in my shift already at the station. The Chief comes in moments later and from his grime-covered uniform and grim expression; I deduce that he was at the site of the fire.

“It’s bad out there,” he says, his voice tinged with sadness.

We get ready and when we leave all ten of us are in our breathing apparatus. The truck sirens its way through the rather deserted roads.

We smell the smoke even before we reach the Shoebox apartments. When it comes into view, a gasp escapes my mouth as well as several of the other guys’. It’s a black shell of a building, smoke escaping from all openings. It seems as if the fire is concentrated on the top floors.

I stare at the fire dumbfounded. I’ve seen a lot in Afghanistan, but I’ve never seen anything like this. My heart pounds hard against my chest at the thought that there are people in there.

Frightened people, desperate for help. Waiting and hoping. Trying to inhale as little of the poisonous smoke as they can while desperate for the oxygen that we are inhaling freely.

We jump out of the truck as soon as it comes to a stop. There are firemen seated on the grass, wearing expressions that I am all too familiar with. Expressions of men who have seen things no one wants to ever see.

We are to take over from the crew inside the building for search and rescue. We put on our equipment and for the next few minutes, I’m too busy to think. There’s equipment to double-check, updates to be given, and then it’s time to enter the burning building.

We’re given our briefing. Start searching from the tenth floor.

I can feel the fear in the guys as we go in. Most of them are like me and have never seen a fire of this magnitude. I feel no fear. My time in Afghanistan trained me to face a dangerous situation without feeling fear. A lot of the guys are surely asking themselves questions regarding their mortality. If only I had the chance to tell them, that’s the wrong mental state to enter a danger in. Death is a possibility but worrying about it makes you careless and ineffective. I find myself at the front of the group, shining my flashlight ahead. It’s dark and smoky inside and water is dripping from the ceiling.

I close my mind to everything except what I need to do. Luna and Lexi push their way to the forefront of my mind but I can’t afford to think about my girls now. I push them to the back. I have a job to do and there are people depending on me.

Going up the stairs is an ordeal in itself. Visibility is poor and the heat is almost unbearable. Progress is slow and with every second that ticks by, I worry that someone might be losing their life.

The front door of the first apartment we come across is burned to the ground. The interior resembles nothing like what am sure was a warm home. The furniture is burned and what is left is blackened to oblivion. I try to push open a bathroom door but it won’t bulge. Using my shoulder, I give it a big shove and it opens. The body of a man lies across the floor. I shine a light on his face. His skin is covered with soot and his features are twisted. He is dead.

That’s just the beginning. We record every person we see. Not one person is alive. I go into automation mode. My colleagues throw up, others have tears streaming down their cheeks, but we continue working.

A little over an hour later all the firefighters are ordered to leave the building. It’s become unsafe and could collapse at any moment.

Our crew leaves for the station and then home at nine at night. I’m tired, dirty, and heartbroken. I thought I’d seen it all in Afghanistan but seeing so many people lose their lives at one time is beyond devastating.

Lexi comes to the door when she hears me opening it. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I tell her. “I can’t hug you, I’m too dirty. I’ll shower first.”

“Are you okay?” she asks, searching my face.

“It was brutal out there,” I tell her. My voice is hoarse from shouting and too much emotion.

I go straight to the bathroom and strip off my clothes. I desperately need to get under the water. I feel as if all the pain I’ve experienced today is clinging to my clothes.