Running in while others run out

Sometimes there are just no words.

That is exactly what I think every single time I watch firefighters do what they do. Every. Single. Time.

That is what I think when I watch firefighters entering any burning building. That is what I think when I watch them emerge.

That is exactly what I thought during a recent opportunity to stand on the sidelines as firefighters from Clayhatchee, Level Plains and Daleville went through hours of drills on a Saturday morning.

Part of the drill involved firefighters in teams of two, dressed in full turn-out gear and with eyes masked, low crawl through an obstacle course.

The obstacle course was a fire hose draped over and under playground equipment at the Windham Elementary School in Daleville forcing the blinded firefighters to feel their way up and down and over and under slides and climbing towers.

The intent of the drill was to simulate entering a burning building without being able to see a thing. The goal of the drill was to never lose contact with your battle-buddy or the fire hose. Two in, two out was the mantra.

Other firefighters practiced hose hookup drills. Finding a water source and accessing it immediately could mean the difference between life and death. Practicing controlled breathing to preserve oxygen in the tank strapped to your back could mean the difference between life and death.

I think it’s the “life and death” aspect of the vocation that I find hard to come to grips with. These first responders run into a crisis when everyone else is running out—and often to protect people they don’t even know. Imagine going into a burning building to rescue a stranger, knowing you may not come out.

Firefighters give up holidays and free time to drill. Most of the firefighters at the tri-community drill were volunteers. This drill was held on a sunny Saturday when many people would head to the beach or the lake.

Firefighters drop what they are doing when the call comes and they do it not knowing if it will be their last call.

The mother of one of the volunteer firefighters watched with me as her son went through the hose drill with his fire chief. “They are all mine,” she said, sweeping her arm across the field of firefighters, when asked if her heart stops every time her son dresses out.

“We run towards trouble when everyone else is running away,” is the way a combat tested military veteran who is now a volunteer firefighter for his community put it as he waited for his turn through the obstacle course.

Sometimes there are, in fact, no words. “Thank you” does not seem adequate.

But here it goes anyway: Thank you for putting your lives on the line to save people, some times ones that you don’t even know. Thank you, firefighters, for your dedication, commitment and sacrifice.

Michelle Mann is a staff writer for The Southeast Sun and Daleville Sun-Courier. The opinions of this writer are her own and not the opinion of the paper. She can be reached at (334) 393-2969 or by email at [email protected].