I wish you could see the sadness of a business man as his

livelihood goes up in flames, or that family returning home,

only to find their house and belongings damaged or lost for good.

I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for

trapped children, flames rolling above your head, your palms and

knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the

kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 a.m. as I check her

husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway,

hopping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting

his wife and family to know everything possible was done to try to save

his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste

of soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout

gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see

absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become too

familiar with.

I wish you could understand how it feels to go to work in the

morning after having spent most of the night, hot and soaking wet at a

multiple alarm fire.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire, "Is

this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed?

What hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or to an EMS call, "What is wrong with the patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces

dead the beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during

the past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date or say the

words, "I love you mommy" again.

I wish you could know the fustration I feel in the cab of the

engine or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as you

fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When

you need us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of

teenage years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my

sister, my girlfriend, or a friend? What were her parents reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a police officer with his hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and

greet my parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly

did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes

physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express

their attitudes of "It will never happen to me!"

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional, and mental drain

or missed meals, lost sleep, and forgone social activities, in addition

to all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of

helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to

be there in times of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy

tugging at your arm and asking, "Is mommy okay?" Not even being

able to look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what

to say. Or to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy

having rescue breathing done on him as they take him away in the

ambulance. You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never truely

understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our job really

means to us...

I wish you could though!

Author Unknown

This is dedicated to all of the men and women, past, present, and future, who risk their lives to save others!