Way back in my career, I was a brand new lieutenant On The Jumps. My locker was my car as I traveled from station to station, filling in wherever I was needed.

Early one morning, while I was working at Station 7 in the quiet Mont Pleasant neighborhood, we received an Alarm of Fire. Engine 7 was First In at a well involved living room fire on the first floor of one of Schenectady's ubiquitous two-family homes. I remember seeing the flames shoot out of the windows as if from a blow-torch. While the driver and back-step man were hooking up to a hydrant, I donned my SCBA,and decided to go to the back door alone and begin a search. (Yes, I knew that I shouldn't have done it, but as a Brand New Lieutenant, I had to uphold a tradition - the tradition of New Lieutenants doing Stupid Things. It isn't intentional, but it seems to happen to every one of us, at least once.)

When I got to the back door, I found a police officer waiting outside. We opened the back door, and could see a pair of legs on the floor in the next room. I masked up, and the officer ran into the house just as the smoke began to thicken. Then both he, and the legs, were gone from sight.

I crawled into the room, and found two bodies at once. I carried the body with the badge out of the building and returned for the original victim, who was fortunately still alive. I also pulled him from the building, and turned them both over to the Rescue Squad, which had just arrived. The Squad also found a third occupant, and added another Fire Survivor to the list.

That was 23 years ago. Most of the men I worked with at that fire have retired. Both civilians recovered fully, and the police officer received a departmental commendation.

I'm not a brand new lieutenant anymore. I'm older, I'm wiser, and now I'm a Deputy Chief - with the same enthusiasm I had then.
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