They pointed at a current trend within our ranks, a rotten poison eating away at the camaraderie, and the values that made me want to become a firefighter in the first place. They pointed at a time long past, when the image of a firefighter was a humble servant of goodwill, self-sacrificing in all aspects of his time and talents, and beloved by all the communities he served, whether rich or poor.
I long for those days.
There is within me an emptiness that is only filled by doing good, by being good; not as measured by financial or social success, but by the warmth and satisfaction of knowing that someone else, caught in a moment of crisis, leaned upon me, and found my life valuable.
Today I peered through the eyes of men I respect, standing beside the casket of an ideal fire department, viewing a place where the light has left, where men now search for meaning in a job which was once the very source of their identity. I stared into that cold and lifeless face and wondered if it had ever lived at all... and if it had, then who had killed it?
I stood there remembering the last time I had broken bread with a group of firefighters. Men I serve with and respect. I know they too feel the pain of the same death I had seen.
But this was lunch, and a break from training, so we swapped war stories, laughed at the same old jokes, and did the usual sharing- snippets and tips of things we've learned... Passing on information, but also showing each other just how much we know.
Each of us is equal parts proud, and strong, and good; though that goodness may only show to those who truly know how to look for it. It isn't always polished, or politically correct, or even clean, but if it can help you, it will NEVER leave you to face your personal fears and dangers alone.
As the conversation turned to training, the subject of basic skills came up. One discussion led to another, and before I knew it, I was discussing the shortcomings of another firefighter.
For the sake of this discussion, I will say that I consider the error he committed to be inexcusable for someone in his position, and something that might have cost lives on an actual fire scene.
My story finished; heads bobbed around the table in silent agreement. Casual affirmation was made for my story, my obvious knowledge of the subject discussed, and the manner in which it was handled.
Individually, I felt validated. In the company of these men, my peers, I had displayed at the very least, verbose , technical jargon that cemented my position as a proficient and knowledgeable firefighter.
But as the day wore on, those words from lunch plagued my thoughts. They troubled me, because I began to see then; just as I saw today, what is eating us from within. What is already destroying the fire department I have loved for most of my life.
Individually I make little difference in the outcome of anyone's emergency. No matter how strong or proficient he or she might be, a single firefighter, a single rescue technician, will seldom be capable of getting the job done alone.
It takes a team.
A team is only strong TOGETHER.
Our Department, our station, our crew, is the team we are given, and here is the nature of a winning team.
It doesn't decimate it's numbers by ostracizing the weakest, but it finds a way to make the weak stronger.
The ideal department, lifeless in it's gilded casket, was laid low not by the dangers it confronted in a thousand flaming structures, or a sea of mangled wrecks.
It was not brought down by the simple mistake brought about by haste, or the man who failed while trying desperately to do his best. There will always be TRIUMPHS... there will always be FAILURES.
But when the team dissolves into individuals, eager to prove themselves at the expense of another, another nail is driven into the coffin of the fire department we all believe in, and we all wish could still exist.
Perhaps it can. Perhaps we have only to learn this lesson.
Today I glimpsed a coffin filled with the corpse of everything I believe in, and I wondered; then and there, who had killed it.
And suddenly, in simple clarity, my answer.
I did it.
The one killing my department was me.
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