LIVING DANGEROUSLY

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 52, Issue 3750, 1 May 1936, Page 9

LIVING DANGEROUSLY

MODERN KNIGHT ERRANTS. WHO WOULD BE A FIREMAN ? (By K.H.S. in Melbourne Age.) “ What will you do when you grow up, Johnny ? ” “ I’m going to be a fireman.” Luckily; the small boys who are captivated by the sight of a shining brass helmet and a uniform with gleaming buttons have plenty of time to change their minds again before they reach the requisite age of 21 years. Juvenile decisions are not irrevocable; otherwise applications would be received from at least 50 per cent of the male population, representing all those who had not decided, in their youth, to be tram conductors or policemen instead. For such is the. spectacular nature of the firemen’s uniform and equipment that as the laden vehicles charge through the street even the most staid and sober of us feel a transitory thrill at this modem version of knight errantry—even if we do pay for it with our own rates and taxes. The spirit of the middle ages, when knights in gleaming armour travelled from country to country in the spirit of service, it seems, lives on. Somewhere near by stands a poor fellow in distress, watching his house go up in flames, his personal belongings burnt to a cinder, and even his golf clubs become poor sad skeletons. And we seek the safety of the footpath, or draw our cars nearer to the curb, with a feeling of pride which far outweighs any annoyance at the temporary delay in our own affairs.

Wihen Johnny, aged ten, so confidently asserts that he is going to be a fireman, he does not realise that the decision lies in the laps of the gods, who may, perversely enough, have already decided that he will never stand 5 feet 6 inches in his socks or measure 37 inches round the chest. Without this strapping physique his enthusiasm for such a career is of no avail, unless he possesses some other very special qualification instead. Nor does he appreciate the other sacrifices he will be called upon to make—the five years of strenuous apprenticeship before he attains the full dignity of an officer, the hours of study in a night school during the first years of his probation, and the fact that while the average worker has 48 working hours per week and 120 hours off duty, with the fireman the positions are nearly reversed. He lives on the premises, and it is only during his 48 hours’ leave that he has an opportunity to visit his family. Nevertheless, the wife of a fireman is exceedingly fortunate, if she is wise enough to make use of her assets, said a fire chief re - cently, wit ha twinkle, in a recent intrview. Her husband is an expert in scrubbing floors and polishing brasses until they gleam like a new pin.

Behind the scenes at the brigade station the fireman may bend his broad back to tasks which are almost menial, and domestic in character, but once on the job he assumes a different personality. He enters a smokefilled building with the nonchalance which endows him, in fact, with the heroisim with which he is surrounded in the small boy’s imagination; he passes beneath the shadow of a tottering wall with no more hesitation than the least suspiciously-minded civilian would cross beneath a ladder in the street. And he does not talk about it. Ask him about some of his most hair-raising experiences, trapped on the top floor of a burning building; he is as close as an oyster. No men are singled out for special commendation in the fire brigade. It is their job to risk their lives, and they do it with a will, a fine disregard for caution which calls for special watchfulness on the part of their chief. There is a wonderful sense of comradeship among them. Each man has his own particular job, but they work together with a fine co-operation. One man specialises with big ladders and aerial work; another in boring into smoke-clouded rooms in an effort to locate the fire; others try a, little amateur criminal work in burgling the premises; and there are special men to handle the oxy-acetyline cutting instruments—and so on. Then there are the motor drivers, some of whom look after the big trucks and ladders, and others the lighter machines. Every day a list? of those who are absent through sickness or injury is brought to the chief, and one glance at this speaks eloquently of those dangerous experiences which are a closed book as far as the fireman is concerned. One man on a recent week’s list was injured at a fire 383 days ago. Since then he has been lying on his back with a badly hurt leg which may yet have to be amputated. At the same fire another man had his back broken, and had to lie in a plaster cast for four months; and two others who received injury on the same occasion have only recently returned to work. Broken legs, broken ribs, heart trouble, hernia—all these appear on the list which is typical of any other sick list. They are part of the penalty to be paid for a continuous battle with smoke and fire and fumes, with falling walls, and death. In the old days of horse-drawn vehicles many fatal accidents were

caused by the high-spirited animals in their mad gallop through the streets of a city to the scene of a fire. • In the pink of condition, and trained to cover short distances at a very high speed, they were sometimes very difficult to manage, and in this way more than one man met his death. The horses have been superseded, and the coming of the more easily-con-trolled motor vehicles has brought a diminution of accidents in transport; but the nature of the work and the need for speed make a certain percentage of accidents unavoidable under even the most favourable conditions. It is the proud boast of fire brigades, however, that every care is taken of the life and property of the public. For themselves—no matter. The fireman lives under the shadow of death, just as the sailor has already, in imagination, died a hundred deaths by drowning. And each of them can die only once.

Motor accidents, tumbling walls—even a solitary brick falling from a great height have accounted for more than one death—all take their toll of the men with the brass helmets, but the arch enemy of the fireman is smoke. To enter a building full of it, to stumble from room to room in search of the fire, is literally a breath-taking experience. The apparatus is handy, it is true, but once this is donned the fireman loses his sense of direction, so that usually he prefers to cruise through the building in full possession of his faculties, looking for the tell-tale flames. Thus he swallows huge quantities of smoke at a very hot temperature. Now, the human body will take a fair amount of this, especially after previous training in such conditions, but there is a limit, and the fireman is in imminent danger of collapse. If the smoke is heavy there is little oxygen in the air, and the man must breathe normally and deeply, although he is in reality drawing poison into his lungs. Moreover, there is always the grave risk of carbon monoxide poisoning, for which there is no cure. Even 1 per cent of this deadly gas is sufficient to qualify a man for the “ wooden overcoat.”

Small wonder that the spectacular aspect of the work undertaken by the fire brigade, plus a very sincere desire on the part of many people to give voluntary assistance, always draws a veritable host of witnesses to the scene of a fire. Unfortunately, this voluntary assistance often proves only a hindrance. Men rush into burning buildings, and, never having been taught how to take advantage of what air there is, collapse on the floor. Thus the rescue work is multiplied. “ Preserve us from our friends I ” is an earnest prayer of the firebrigadesman. They are cursed with good intentions. Advice, of course, is always forthcoming. The expert lends a patient ear to suggestions for a plan of campaign. “ All right, old man. We’ll try that at the next fire ! ” he says with a patient smile, as he moves on. But the fireman’s job is not confined to the quelling of fire. With his knowledge of first aid, his quick presence of mind, his physical strength, and coolness in the face of immediate’ danger, he is called upon to help in all manner of emergencies. When people are caught in a lift or trapped in a flooded cellar then it is the fireman who is summoned to help. In many instances rescues have been made of men trapped in underground sewers or tunnels, and in cases where especial bravery and resourcefulness have been known in this- hazardous undertaking the special Fire Brigade Victoria Cross has been awarded. It is symbolical of the spirit which rules in fire brigades that this highly-prized medal is never given for heroism shown while on the job. What is done then is carried out quietly, as a matter of duty. It is only bravery shown in other ways which meets with any reward.