for us if that tank is empty. I remember the times we had to stretch
six or more 50-foot lengths of hose to put out a simple car fire, or a garbage fire. When the fire was extinguished the hose
had to be uncoupled, each length drained, and then reloaded onto the pumper. You can see why Bill makes sure the tank is full
at all times.
In the kitchen, Billy-o and Jerry are making a shopping list for tonight’s meal. One of the younger guys, or “johnnies,” will
go to the store.
“What’s on the menu, Billy-o?” I ask.
“Dennis pal,” he replies, “everything will be just the way you like it.” This is a phrase Billy-o uses often. He continues,
“To begin with, a little tomato juice for an appetizer, breaded pork chops topped with a baked peach for the entree, and Jerry
is gonna make his great potatoes with sour cream sauce. And for dessert,” he adds with a twinkle in his eye, “the cabinet
is filled with Alka-Seltzer.”
I laugh and ask, “What about the vegetable?”
“Me and Jerry were just thinking about that. Any suggestions?”
“Asparagus with wine vinegar.”
Billy-o smiles his usual half-smile, and says, “Dennis pal, that’s an excellent suggestion.” He turns to Herbert, and says,
“Make it string beans, Jerry.”
“I knew I could help you, Billy-o,” I say.
There are eighteen firemen in the kitchen now. Engine 85 and Ladder 712 have returned from the fire they were working. It
was a small job, two rooms in a vacant building. A few men are playing gin at the corner table. Four guys from Engine 85 have
started a Scrabble game at the next one. Matt Tunney carefully makes the first word: “ANUS.” The other players laugh. I look
down at his rack and ask him why he didn’t use the other A to pick up an extra point. He says, “You mean sauna. I thought
of that, but nobody would’ve laughed.”
The bells start sounding again—Box 2508—Hoe Avenue and Aldus Street. Engine 85 and Ladder 712 are assigned there. I sip my
coffee easily as I watch the men hustle through the kitchen door. The room is quiet now, and I can understand what the news
reporter is saying on the TV. The phone rings. It’s an alarm for Ladder 31. Three more guys run to the kitchen door. Jim,
Vinny, and I watch the news.
One hundred and twenty people have been arrested at an anti-war rally. Jim says, “You know, the way I figure it, it’s just
that times have changed. I would have been madder than hell if they had protested the Korean War the way they do this one.
And we were fightin' for the same thing. Right? Most of these protesters are in college just to keep out of the Army, anyway.
And they talk about democracy and equality. If they took away the college deferment, and made the draft equal, then they would
have a reason to protest. But you never hear them yelling about that.”
The department telephone rings—three distinct rings in quick succession. We know from the signal that it won’t be a false
alarm. Someone has called the department, and they are relaying the information. Vinny chalks on the blackboard: “1284 Fox,
apt. 30.” The pumper is in the street in less than thirty seconds. It is only two blocks up Intervale Avenue to the address,
and on the way I suddenly remember hearing that Jim has a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart, but I never heard him mention either
of them.
We can smell burning wood and plaster in the air. We all know that Ladder 31 and Ladder 712 are at other alarms, and it will
take a few minutes for another ladder company to get here.
As we turn the corner we see smoke coming from two windows on the third floor. Vinny says, “I’ll take the ax and a claw tool,”
then yells to Benny, “Take the hook and water can.” Benny nods as he puts on his gloves. Luckily, the fire is only on the
third floor. Jim, Carmine, and I can handle the hose work while Benny and Vinny do what a ladder company is supposed to.
The pumper stops in
six or more 50-foot lengths of hose to put out a simple car fire, or a garbage fire. When the fire was extinguished the hose
had to be uncoupled, each length drained, and then reloaded onto the pumper. You can see why Bill makes sure the tank is full
at all times.
In the kitchen, Billy-o and Jerry are making a shopping list for tonight’s meal. One of the younger guys, or “johnnies,” will
go to the store.
“What’s on the menu, Billy-o?” I ask.
“Dennis pal,” he replies, “everything will be just the way you like it.” This is a phrase Billy-o uses often. He continues,
“To begin with, a little tomato juice for an appetizer, breaded pork chops topped with a baked peach for the entree, and Jerry
is gonna make his great potatoes with sour cream sauce. And for dessert,” he adds with a twinkle in his eye, “the cabinet
is filled with Alka-Seltzer.”
I laugh and ask, “What about the vegetable?”
“Me and Jerry were just thinking about that. Any suggestions?”
“Asparagus with wine vinegar.”
Billy-o smiles his usual half-smile, and says, “Dennis pal, that’s an excellent suggestion.” He turns to Herbert, and says,
“Make it string beans, Jerry.”
“I knew I could help you, Billy-o,” I say.
There are eighteen firemen in the kitchen now. Engine 85 and Ladder 712 have returned from the fire they were working. It
was a small job, two rooms in a vacant building. A few men are playing gin at the corner table. Four guys from Engine 85 have
started a Scrabble game at the next one. Matt Tunney carefully makes the first word: “ANUS.” The other players laugh. I look
down at his rack and ask him why he didn’t use the other A to pick up an extra point. He says, “You mean sauna. I thought
of that, but nobody would’ve laughed.”
The bells start sounding again—Box 2508—Hoe Avenue and Aldus Street. Engine 85 and Ladder 712 are assigned there. I sip my
coffee easily as I watch the men hustle through the kitchen door. The room is quiet now, and I can understand what the news
reporter is saying on the TV. The phone rings. It’s an alarm for Ladder 31. Three more guys run to the kitchen door. Jim,
Vinny, and I watch the news.
One hundred and twenty people have been arrested at an anti-war rally. Jim says, “You know, the way I figure it, it’s just
that times have changed. I would have been madder than hell if they had protested the Korean War the way they do this one.
And we were fightin' for the same thing. Right? Most of these protesters are in college just to keep out of the Army, anyway.
And they talk about democracy and equality. If they took away the college deferment, and made the draft equal, then they would
have a reason to protest. But you never hear them yelling about that.”
The department telephone rings—three distinct rings in quick succession. We know from the signal that it won’t be a false
alarm. Someone has called the department, and they are relaying the information. Vinny chalks on the blackboard: “1284 Fox,
apt. 30.” The pumper is in the street in less than thirty seconds. It is only two blocks up Intervale Avenue to the address,
and on the way I suddenly remember hearing that Jim has a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart, but I never heard him mention either
of them.
We can smell burning wood and plaster in the air. We all know that Ladder 31 and Ladder 712 are at other alarms, and it will
take a few minutes for another ladder company to get here.
As we turn the corner we see smoke coming from two windows on the third floor. Vinny says, “I’ll take the ax and a claw tool,”
then yells to Benny, “Take the hook and water can.” Benny nods as he puts on his gloves. Luckily, the fire is only on the
third floor. Jim, Carmine, and I can handle the hose work while Benny and Vinny do what a ladder company is supposed to.
The pumper stops in
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