When my engine company
pulled up in front of the fire building, we couldn't imagine that
anyone was still alive in there. Fire was showing from every window in front, and halfway back on three floors. It was moving -front and rear- at a rapid pace.
I was riding the side of Engine 5 that fateful morning. What had
started out as a fairly slow tour in the firehouse turned out to
be a day which would change my life forever.
It was around 4:30 in the morning as we rolled up to the two family home on James Street. People were yelling to us that there were two children trapped inside. My officer ordered the deck gun to the front of the building. When I was done dumping our 500 gallon tank, I was to meet him in the rear of the building, to see if we had a chance for a rescue.
When I got to the back door, Captain Moore was nowhere to be found. Another firefighter informed me that he went in the rear to make an attempt at a rescue. The door he had entered was filled with the blackest smoke I had ever seen. I crawled in to find and assist the Captain, only to bump into him a few feet inside. he and Lt. Muscanelli from Rescue 1 were dragging an adult male out. I helped them get the man safely away from the building, and the two officers started resuscitation efforts.
At that point, I heard a woman behind me screaming, "My baby!
My baby!" Her desperate calling made my blood run cold, and the
hair stand up on the back of my neck. I turned to her and asked
where the baby was. She replied, "In the bedroom."
At that point, Captain Moore grabbed me by the shoulder to get my
attention. he said, "Don't do it - it's going to blow at any
second!" As I looked at the building, I could see that he was
right, but something deep inside me was saying "You can
do it!" I masked up again, wondering if I could pull it off.
I knew that woman's voice would haunt me forever if I didn't at
least try.
As I went toward the rear door, I noticed that the black smoke was being pushed out by a wall of fire that was spreading across the kitchen ceiling. I knew at that point that I could make it to the second bedroom, but wouldn't be able to return the same way. I'd have to go out the bedroom window - hopefully with a baby in my arms.
Approximately four minutes had passed since we pulled up in front
of this nightmare. Now, I was making a life and death decision, alone, on my knees, and with no hose line.
The next thing I knew, I was running through the kitchen toward the front of the flat.
The heat knocked me to my knees, and I began crawling. As I entered the bedroom, I began to look for my window exit.
It wasn't there.
The room was heavily charged with smoke, visibility was more a
state of mind than fact, and I suddenly realized I would have
to retrace my steps through the kitchen to get out. The residents
had blocked the window with a stereo cabinet. For the first time
ever, I feared for my life. And I didn't have time for that.
Pushing the fear to one side, I began to search the room.
When I got to the area between two beds, I found a small, lifeless body.
Cradling the child in one arm, I crawled toward the bedroom door
only to notice that the kitchen was now starting to light up. The
fire was about halfway down the walls. I had no choice but
to continue crawling toward the rear exit.
I really don't remember crawling through the fire, but I do
recall feeling very hot when I reached the rear porch!
We did mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, then CPR on the child
before transporting to the hospital. From there, he was
airlifted to a Bronx Hospital for additional treatment.
Later, I was told there had been another child in the same
room, one I had missed. I hovered between elation and depression
for the life saved, and the life lost. Since that day, I realize that life is fleeting, and can't be taken for granted. If I had known about the second child, and taken the extra time to search, I wouldn't have been able to save either of them, and might not have survived myself. As things stand, both people I helped get out of the building are alive and well today.
I'm aware of my own mortality now, and that of others. Any life I
can touch will always be with me.