Report From Engine Co. 82 - Dennis Smith [85]
“God bless you,” says Billy-o.
“Goddammit, George,” says Cagey, wiping the back of his neck. The laughter increases as unsuspecting Dulland pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket.
The bells start ringing, and the laughter stops. Box 2295 comes in. Engine 73 and Ladder 42 are first due there. We’re safe.
Billy-o returns to The New York Times. George makes a motion to me as if to say “Watch this.”
“Listen Billy,” he says, “I bet you didn’t think I knew all of those big words. You know, even us guys who read the Daily News got some smarts.”
Billy-o lays the Times on the table, smiles, and says, “George pal, there is nothing you could say that would surprise me. You are an idol in my eyes. But that ‘oxy-something’ really threw me.”
“Yeah,” says George, “you don’t find words like that in the Times. Ya gotta read those little Dell books with the pictures in ’em.”
Billy-o laughs in agreement as the bells come in again. Box 2404.
“Engine Eighty-five only,” yells the housewatchman. George, Bill Robbie, Marty Hannon, and the other members of 85 hustle out to the apparatus floor.
The time passes quickly, and Engine 85 returns to quarters. It was the first false alarm of the day. I am drinking another cup of coffee as the nine-thirty signal comes in—two rounds of eleven bells. It’s time to start our daily committee work, wash the floors, clean the tables, change the linen, make the beds, shine the poles, wash the windows, clean the toilets, sweep the cellar. It reminds me of a song from Cinderella.
Billy-o, McCartty, and I go to the second floor. Billy and Charlie begin to strip the sheets from the beds as I grab a toilet brush and a pail and head into the bathroom. The smell is terrible, and I open the only window. I can see someone’s feet beneath the commode stall door. “Give us a courtesy flush, will yaP” I say.
“Dennis? Is that you?” a harsh voice comes from the stall.
“Yeah. Is that you Milsaw? What the hell did you eat last night?”
“I’m sorry, Dennis,” Milsaw says as the water flushes down the drain. He continues, “I’m just trying to live up to what they wrote about me there over the urinal.”
I walk to the urinal and read the one-line graffito on the wall. It is in two parts. The first part in red ink reads: “THE BIG HOUSE—THE BRAVEST MEN IN THE WORLD.” Someone added, in blue ink: “SHAVE WHILE MILSAW TAKES A DUMP.”
“I know what they mean, Milsaw,” I say, walking out of the latrine. “Talk about air pollution. I’ll take the streets of New York anytime.”
Artie Merritt and Benny Carroll have joined Charlie and Billy-o at the bed-making.
Artie says to me, “Milsaw drove you out, huh?”
“Damn right. It’s unbearable.”
“I know,” says Artie, “I went in there a few minutes ago to brush my teeth, you know. And, you know, I was gagged.”
Billy-o sits on the edge of a bed. “You know, Artie,” he says. “I know. This is what George Hiegman was talking about before when he said that being duped and being a fireman is the same thing. How the hell can we ever think of ourselves as professional firefighters when we are forced to clean toilets and sweep floors? Milsaw is in there smelling the place up, but when he’s finished he has to pick up a mop and wash the floor.…”
Charlie interrupts, “Yeah, but in Milsaw’s case it’s probably the right thing to do. You can’t ask a normal person to go in there after Milsaw does his thing.”
The guys laugh a little, realizing that Charlie has to get a joke in on everything.
Billy-o continues, “Take a bank, for instance. The lowest job in a bank is the guy who sweeps the floor, right? And the next lowest is the bank guard, but do you think a bank guard would ever sweep a floor in a bank? Hell no. That’s not his job. He gets paid to maintain security, and maybe to direct people to the right window. We get paid for fire protection and fire prevention services, but we also clean toilets,