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|"A Firefighter's Story" (standard:non fiction, 4220 words)
|Added: Oct 30 2001
|Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
|My memoirs as a member of the NY City Fire Department from 1962-1985
A Firefighter's Story By Charles F. Farrell It's nineteen-forty-eight at Our Lady of Good Council Parochial School in Brooklyn New York. A tall Franciscan Brother is writing on the blackboard. A white rope tied around his waist and draped down the side of his long brown robe, a hood resting gently on his shoulders. The attention of the class of twelve-year-old students is broken by the sound of sirens that came from the open schoolhouse window. The sound of the sirens grows louder and louder than lower and lower as it fades away as fast as it had stolen their attention. "Take a moment of silent prayer for the firemen" the Brother says, than continues with his math lesson. So You Want to Be a Fireman My father was a member of the Fire Department during the great depression. "I was the only one in my neighborhood with a steady job" he would constantly remind the family. He eventually worked in the Fire Commissioners Office in charge of transfers. If there was a better way to make a living he didn't know it. In June nineteen-fifty-four I stated in my highschool yearbook that I wanted to be a fireman. Following my Dad and brother Matt seemed to be the natural choice. I was twenty-two years of age and five feet, ten inches in height when I was eligible to apply for the Fire Department. The tough part was that my weight, soaked wet, and was all of one-hundred twenty-nine pounds. I looked like Barney Fife. Passing the written exam was not easy and, passing the physical exam, next too impossible. Remember I told you my dad was in charge of transfers? My dad assigned most of the men who worked at the medical office. They were all anxiously waiting for me to show for my physical exam. Show was the operative word. We had to strip down naked to take the physical. The candidates on line looked like they were trying out for the Mr. Universe Contest. When it came time for me to get on the scale, I gave my name, "It's him, it's him" they whispered. I watched the needle on the scale strain to reach 129 pounds as the guy in charge yelled out, for everyone to hear. "160 pounds". The Mr. Universe candidates all watched in bewilderment as Barney, I mean I stepped off the scale. On December 8, nineteen-sixty-two, I was sworn into, as they say, "The Job". It was special as I received my father's original fireman's badge. It first went to my father, than to my brother and eventually to me. When I finally made lieutenant they saved the badge for my nephew. Talk about pressure, the badge would not be passed on unless you were promoted from fireman to lieutenant. My father was a lieutenant in charge of transfers. My brother was a lieutenant at that time on his way to Manhattan Borough Commander, Assistant Chief of the Department. Training School The day I was sworn in, I quickly found out the disadvantages of having a father in charge of transfers. The class of 60 recruits stood as close as they thought was attention. It was our first day at training school. We were still in civilian clothes. The Lieutenant shouted "ATTENTION." He looked directly at me and said one step forward." He ordered the men "Left Face, FORWARD MARCH." He put his arm around my shoulder, as we walked along side the brothers marching. He said, "I understand your father is in charge of transfers, I really would appreciate a transfer to Queens." It took a long time before I could get the trust of my fellow recruits. Often, things are not as they appear. One of the brothers was a six foot four inches Ex-Marine. Unfortunately, he had a fear of heights and froze half way up the Tower Ladder. Conversely, I was climbing the outside of a five-story building with what we called a Scaling Ladder. As I reached the top, I heard the instructor say "This kid is a lightweight, but he's all balls." My father said he was going to take better care of me than he did my brother by sending me to a slower company. My brother started out immediately in a busy company. "After all, your wife has a heart Click here to read the rest of this story (363 more lines)
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