Fire Horses

By Robert Haig

A story about a group of retired firefighters being called to duty to fight one last fire. You will find the heart and spirit of all firefighters in the pages of Fire Horses. The danger, dedication, and daring of firefighting are highlighted as the retired firefighters make a desperate attempt to rescue people trapped in a fire at a rural hospital.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Haig
• Release date: Nov 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301810048

Robert Haig

R J Haig retired from the Detroit Fire Department in 1992. He had 30 years of distinguished service as a Firefighter. He was educated at Henry Ford Community College and Wayne State University. He has degrees in management and fire science. He was active with the Detroit Fie Fighters Association, Local 344 and worked as the 7th Battalion Director, Editor of the Firefighters Magazine, Vice President and President of that union. He was honored as Firefighter of the Year in the 7th Battalion and has survived many harrowing fires including the 1967 civil disturbance and numerous Devil’s Night fires. Bob retired as the Captain of Ladder 13. It has been the purpose of his life to promote the Fire Service. More information about Bob Haig, his works and his adventures can be accessed at his website at www.rjhaig.com E-mail at [e-mail]

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FIRE HORSES

BY

R J Haig

Fire Horses

Copyright: 2011 by R J Haig

Published 2012 by R J Haig

Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any responsibility assumed for damages resulting from use of the information contained herein.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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ISBN 10 1461023912

ISBN 13 9781461023913

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my wife Jo and all those people who encouraged me to keep going when I was writing Fire Horses. A special thank you goes to Local 344, The Detroit Fire Fighters Association, for their efforts in protecting us from those who tried to destroy our unity. The Detroit Firemen’s Fund Association will always be a part of the heritage that keeps us connected. Thank you Fund officers, past and present. Most important is my favorite newspaper man, Bill McGraw. Thanks Bill, for encouraging me to be, myself, Bob Haig professional Firefighter writing about Firefighters.

This novel is a fictionalized compilation of the type of situations Firefighters find themselves involved in everyday. I thank the Lord for allowing me to be among these heroic special people for thirty years. I know they will identify with many of the actions contained in the pages of this book.

Table Of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter One

There was this old Detroit firefighter named Jack Montgomery I once knew who hung around Casey’s bar. He had long white hair and a mountain man beard. His eyes were sad but always twinkled when he talked about the old days. He was ninety years old but his mind was sharper than the peen of an axe.

All the guys loved Jack He was one of the few retired firefighters whose career went back to the horse and buggy days. If you bought Jack a beer, he would talk about times when the duty shifts were long and the bosses were tough. Jack told stories of big fires and life in the fire house when the building was shared with horses. It was a time of brass spittoons, tin fire helmets, and steam-fed pumpers. His stories were long because he worked his listeners to buy him that extra beer.

It was fun to listen to Jack. I enjoyed his stories about the fire horses most of all.

He said the horses were cared for better than the firefighters. The department used draft horses like the ones you see in the Budweiser commercials. The men loved these big horses and gave them special care, making sure they were well-groomed and well-fed at all times.

Jack said they had a horse named Charlie who worked out of Engine 32 on the east side of the city. This horse had a sense of humor. He had inherited the practical joke mentality of his firemen friends. His favorite trick was when a man would come into his stall to brush him down the big horse would gently lean sideways and pin him to the wall. He would hold him there until the man cursed and yelled before freeing him. This was terrifying for the rookies who did not know the old horse’s tricks. Jack said Charlie would roll back his lips and smile after letting a man go. It was a goofy smile because Charlie had a big front tooth missing. In all his years on the job, Jack said Charlie was the only horse he ever knew that could smile.

Over time the horses learned to identify the alarm box numbers as they came in over the ticker tape alerting engine 32 for a run. When a call came in, the horses were instantly energized, their eyes blazing in anticipation. They would move to the front of their stalls stomping and snorting ready to go. Jack said that Charlie would prance up and down in a stutter step and would have that goofy smile on his face. Once the chains in front of their stalls were removed the horses would move quickly to the front of the pumper for harnessing. Once they were harnessed and hooked up the horses would tremble and shake waiting for the command to go.

Out the door they would come crashing and clattering. Firemen would be hanging to the sides and rear rails putting on turnout gear. Most fire companies had a dog and he would run next to the horses barking and howling. It was an impressive sight to see a steaming pumper going to a fire. One thing for sure, you knew they were coming.

I was thinking about Jack Montgomery and the fire horses as we drove toward town this evening. My favorite tale was about how they retired the horses when they became too old to work. Jack said they took the horses to Belle Isle. Belle Isle is an island that sits in the Detroit River about a quarter mile off shore. The island is two miles long and can be seen from Engine 32’s quarters on the mainland.

Jack said the retired horses were kept in a large pasture that bordered the river. During the day the horses could be seen standing silently under the trees staring across the river at the fire station. When Engine 32 would get a fire run, the horses would rear and snort. When the steaming pumper came roaring out and started down the street the horses on the island would take off running. They would gallop full tilt parallel to Engine 32 until they came to the end of the pasture. They would buck and whinny like young colts. Jack said they never lost their desire to go to a fire.

Jack swore that many years later, when the city converted to motorized fire rigs, the ghosts of the horses were still on the island. He claimed on foggy nights, when Engine 32 was responding to a fire, the guys on the back of the rig would sometimes say they thought they saw horses running on Belle Isle.

At this point, we would laugh and tell Jack he was drinking too much beer. It was strange how the thought of those horses was on my mind tonight. There is something mystical about memories, spirit, and desire. They are intangibles but do they have substance? I know in my heart I am still a firefighter even though I retired two years ago. Would I still like to go on a fire run? You bet I would.

Chapter Two

It is my belief that retired firefighters and retired fire horses have the same feelings. Memories are not only stored in the brain; they are kept in the heart. Shared experiences create a special bond for those who work in this profession.

There is a rite of passage when a guy comes on the job. A rookie is called a trial firefighter and it will be six months before he gets his badge He must pass many tests before he is accepted into the brotherhood. His bosses and senior men will literally hold his hand as he goes to those first few terrifying fires. At the fire house, he will get all the dirty jobs as the low man on the totem pole, he will have to prove himself before he is accepted as an equal. A trial man learns he has two families, one at work and one at home. A bond is created that is carried to the grave.

These things flowed through my mind as I reflected on my thirty years with the Detroit Fire Department. I hung up my helmet and retired but I missed the action and camaraderie. My body could no longer take the pounding required to be an active firefighter. I was now living with my wife Jo on a peaceful farm in northern Michigan.. We have 160 acres of woods and fields. The only action I saw is when our boys come up hunting in the fall. Some nights we could hear the coyotes howl. Their distant mournful cries reminded me of the sirens heard at night in the city. That’s as close to fire fighting as I wanted to get.

Yes, I still missed it and that made this particular evening special. We were on our way to a wedding in Cheboygan. The granddaughter of Mac Pierce was marrying a local kid. The reception was to be held at the Knights of Columbus Hall at the south end of town. Mac had retired six years ago and was now running a party store at the edge of town. He is a jovial person who likes to talk to people. Owning a store was a perfect fit for his outgoing personality. He had been the Captain of Squad 4 when he was on the department. He was a great boss and a fearless firefighter. Mac’s main virtue was his steadiness under stress. He never got rattled.

I was in high spirits. It was going to be a special evening for the retired firefighters who had been invited, a reunion of old running mates. It was going to be fun to see the guys again. It had been two years ago since we were last together. I understood there would be six or seven of these over-the-hill smoke-eaters at the wedding. I knew for sure Joe Barchilli and Danny O’Brien were going to be there.

Danny stood six feet tall. He had long curly black hair and flashing blue eyes. Danny was always smiling. He loved life. He was trim and fit. He could drink gallons of beer and eat tons of cheese burgers and never gain an ounce. He was playful as an otter. The room would fill with excitement when Danny walked in.

He didn’t look for trouble but if it came he never backed down. Over the years I had seen Danny take on guys twice his size. He didn’t always win but those he fought knew they never wanted to fight Danny again. His carefree attitude and let-the-party-begin smile made him a favorite with the girls. He was a heart breaker because he never responded to any flirtatious encounters. Danny married his high school sweetheart and never strayed from his promise to be faithful. He was moral as a priest, goofy as a clown, and tough as a wolverine. He was my best friend.

Danny was a fun guy. We grew up in the same neighborhood and attended the same school. I quarterbacked our high school football team and Danny was the tailback. We were both drafted into the Army during the Korean War. When we got out of the service we joined the Fire Department together. We were as close as brothers.

After graduation from the academy, we were assigned to Engine 27 in the Seventh Battalion. We established ourselves as pretty good firefighters, but Danny soon developed a style that made him special. He was a rough, tough nozzle man and never left until the fire was out. Once it was over, he would walk out the front of the building and stand before the world like he had a spot light on him. He would raise his helmet in the air and extend his arms in a victory sign. He did this from day one until the day he retired. It was a Danny O’Brien trademark. We loved him for it.

Joe Barchilli was special people too. Joe won the Medal of Valor in 1976 for the rescue of an elderly lady trapped in a dwelling fire down in the Cass Corridor. Joe lost half an ear at that fire. A back draft burned off most of his hair. When it grew back it had a weird salt and pepper color. We used to kid Joe that his head looked like an ash tray.

Every firefighter attending the wedding was a hero to some degree. Many people were alive today because these guys were willing to make rescues that seemed impossible. Each had faced that heart-pounding moment when experience and knowledge crosses into the realm of risk and uncertainty. It always amazed me how much punishment the human body can absorb when it is focused and jacked up on adrenaline.

Fire fighting is a risky business. You are taking a chance when you have to make a rescue alone. The odds of getting out safely are not good, that’s why firefighting is a team activity. The urgency of the situation will sometimes make it necessary to move in without help. When you do there will be a knot in your gut as your mind runs through a list of options. Minutes feel like hours as the smoke thickens and the fire gets hotter. You know that you must find the victim before the super-heated gases explode in a flashover. Most people killed in a fire are not victims of the flames. Smoke is the real assassin. Fire destroys and maims, but smoke will kill in matter of minutes. You can feel the texture of the smoke change as you search for a victim. Raising a hand above your head will help gauge the heat of the fire. As death crawls with you in a fire, you become acutely aware that only the thin veneer of rubber in your mask is keeping you alive. A rescuer must move quickly.

You must check the type of structure you are searching. A quick glance before entering will give you a thumb-nail picture of the layout of the building. Time of day is important. If it is late at night, you will search the bedrooms. In mid afternoon, people will generally be on the first floor. Most importantly, you must remember to protect your own life first. You must know when it is time to get out. If you go down, other firefighters will be put at risk as they try to rescue you.

A fire scene can be a very chaotic place. Things happen fast. An axiom of the fire service is that when one thing turns to shit, everything turns to shit. Mistakes tend to compound themselves and a small error can quickly become a major tragedy.

* * *

I once attended a Redmond Fire Safety Convention in Atlanta, Georgia. One of the lectures featured the Bradford Soccer Stadium fire in England. The film was cut from a television coverage tape. It was in real time and showed graphically how quickly a small fire can turn into a disaster. The soccer game was timed by a digital display on the TV screen which monitored the closing minutes of the contest. As the camera was following the action up and down the field, it spotted a small rubbish fire in the stands. At the precise moment the fire is spotted the timer on the screen is