The Last Casualty, Remembered

Photos courtesy Gordon Anderson with appreciation for permission to use in this post:

Fire doesn’t strike in my home town very often, at least structure fires don’t.  When they do occur, it’s an event that is so in-frequent that it leaves a lasting memory.  I can remember a fire that I watched when I was very young.  I don’t have a crystal clear memory of it, but I remember my mom loading us in the car and we drove the few blocks to watch the fire department battle the flames.

My dad was on the department back then.  Maybe mom went to keep an eye out for him and see if he was okay, more than to watch the struggle. Now I am a member of the department. I think my wife feels that same way even though she doesn’t make her way to watch – she just worries from a distance.

A memory that stands out is the last time our town experienced the loss of a home to fire.  Almost 4 years ago, the slumber of many a firefighter was interrupted to answer the call.  A home in our sleepy little community was burning, its occupant alerted to the dangerous situation by his cat.  Built just after the turn of the century - a museum of memories and possessions handed down for years - was on fire.

Before discovery, the fire had been slowly and methodically working itself into an inferno.  Luckily the live-in cat filled the role of protector in time to allow the occupant to escape - safely jumping off the roof – after his first attempt to exit failed because of the smoke and heat that met him in the stairwell.  Once on the ground he was able to get to a cell phone and call 9-1-1 and start the response.

A first alarm structure fire in our town results in our two neighboring departments being summoned at the same time as our firefighters are paged.  It's always better to cancel them if they are not needed, versus waiting for them to arrive if they are not called early enough.

Fire attack began in earnest and soon the visible fire inside was extinguished.  It was realized that the fire had made its way through the walls into the attic and with no fire breaks to check its progress it was going to be a job.  A second alarm was transmitted, bringing more firefighters from another neighboring community, and then a bit later a special call for a ladder truck was made.

Racing against time, crews rotated into the upstairs rooms to pull down the lathe and plaster in order to reach the remaining fire.  With a significant head start and aided by the near century old mode of construction, the fire was winning.

When the roof was about to burn through it was time to concede the second floor and pull everyone from inside.  Hand lines and the pipe on the ladder truck continued the battle from outside.  Eventually the tide turned and mop up in the attic was possible.

Daylight came, and when the smoke lessened it was a beautiful morning.  Clear and bright - except for the mood surrounding the block where firefighters were beginning to take up tools and hose, preparing to head back to their stations and back to the routine of the weekday. 

Thankfully life was not lost, but lives would indeed be altered.  A home was rendered un-livable and though many items were saved from the home, many others were destroyed.

Structure fires in our little town don’t happen very often, and we are extremely grateful for that.  But when they do, we know what to expect:  The pagers will alert, the firefighters will come – from wherever they are stationed, and a battle will be waged.  Sometimes the fire wins, other times the firefighters win and maybe the occasional “draw” will be declared.

This specific incident is different from other fires our department has responded to because the address and the names are unique.  My memory of this incident recalls the escape of the occupant; the efforts of the firefighters; the care from the EMT’s; the concern for the homeowner from the neighbors - I hope those things are always the same.

This story was posted on Your Cache Valley, and in the Herald Journal.