Report From Engine Co. 82 - Dennis Smith [87]
The committee work is done quickly. My value to the people of the city of New York is that I keep their firehouse clean. Ignominious effort swept the floors, and pride was flushed down the toilet along with the coal tar cleanser.
It is noon, and the hamburgers sizzle on the grill. Jim Stack is helping Benny separate the rolls while Artie Merritt washes the cups that have accumulated in the sink. The bells sound Box 2544. Get out. The housewatchman is yelling, and men are scurrying from the kitchen and down the poles. “Eighty-two and thirty-one goes. Union Avenue and 166. Both companies are second due.” Engine 50 and Ladder 19 are first due at that location.
Captain Albergray and our regular chauffeur are on vacation. Jim Stack is the spare chauffeur while Bill Valenzio hustles a second job instead of going to Florida. Captain Albergray has been replaced by a mild, quiet man named Collins. Lieutenant Collins was promoted from the rank of Fireman only two weeks ago, and I get the feeling that he doesn’t care much for his new role. There is a two-thousand-dollar difference between Fireman and Lieutenant, and that is a good enough reason to study for promotion, but when a guy becomes an officer he is separated from the men he has worked with for a good part of his life, the men he grew to love, the men who made going to work worth while. He doesn’t have time anymore to sit and laugh or argue in the kitchen, because his role has changed. He must learn to relate to the men as a supervisor, and Lieutenant Collins is finding that hard to do. He doesn’t like to give orders, or to check up on firemen, but he’ll get over that. He will adjust, and he will make a good boss, because he has a genuine respect for the men he supervises.
The second floor of a three-story frame building is fully involved with fire at the corner of Union and 166th Street. It is a vacant building that someone has set up to cause some excitement, or to achieve an orgasm, or to kill a fireman.
Engine 50 has stretched the heavy two-and-a-half hose, and Ladder 19 is searching the building for sleeping derelicts or unconscious drug addicts. Benny Carroll and I run to Engine 50’s pumper to stretch a second line. The fire is coming out of six windows, but it doesn’t look like it has gotten into the floor above yet. Kevin McMann and Cosmo Posculo, two of the younger members of Engine 82, don the heavy Air-Pac masks as Benny and I stretch to the floor above the fire. Luckily, there is a hydrant in front of the building, so the stretch is a short one.
As we reach the second floor I can see through the smoke a lifeless figure propped against the landing wall. I tell Benny to hold up a minute while I check it out. As I get closer I can see by the bulky outline of a rubber coat that it is a fireman.
The roof has been vented, and the smoke begins to lift. I recognize the face before me. It is exhausted, and has two black liquid lines running from the nose. “How ya feeling, Louie?” I ask.
Louie Minelli, the senior nozzle man of Engine 50, answers, “I’m O.K. I got the first two rooms. Mike Roberti will get the rest.” That’s Louie’s way of saying Engine 50 can do the job.
Lieutenant Collins is on the third floor landing waiting for us. The smoke is lifting, but it is always bad above a fire. “I don’t think we’ll hafta charge the line,” he says to nobody in particular.
Benny and I sit on our heels in the hallway. Artie Merritt comes crawling out of the apartment above the fire. He has a halligan tool in one hand and an ax in the other. It was his job to search the apartment thoroughly.
“It’s clean,” he says. “The walls are a little warm, but I don’t think the fire has extended.” Kevin and Cosmo have arrived, breathing easily in their masks. There is nothing for them to do but to join us in sitting on their heels.
The Chief from the Seventeenth Battalion passes by us. He disappears into the apartment for a short while. Upon reappearing, he says,