As with most firefighters, I have had my share of ceilings fall on me and floors give way below my boots. Hot tar has run down my helmet and steam and heat has burned my ears (before Nomex hoods). In the movies, fire is sometimes depicted as a beast that talks to you. I have only had that experience once.

Engine 7 was second in on a large pool supply warehouse fire. When we arrived, it had already gone to multiple alarm and we knew we were going to be there all night. My regular captain was off and we had a relief guy. We dropped both beds at the roll-up doors in the rear of the place and sent the engine to the hydrant.

As with most big fires, we were concerned with our small part of it. We were told by command to advance two 3-inch attack lines into the roll-up doors and try to hold the fire in the area where it was contained. The building was filled with hi-pile storage and we did our advance in about 100 feet between the storage racks and a line of parked trucks. This was a tight fit and left us a marginal escape route. The fire was roaring to our left down the aisles about 50 feet from our position. Seven crew and a few guys from another crew manned the heavy lines and we started to put water on the fire.

Our relief captain told me he was going out to check on something and left. About 5 minutes later, the fire started to talk to me. The ominous red glow became oranger and seemed to hiss. It did seem alive. Our streams did nothing to lessen the intensity of the fire. I looked behind us and realized it was go now or the fire would block our escape so I told the guys to start backing out. We all made the roll-up doors when the whole place lit up. The fire did talk to me that night. I learned two lessons, escape route and when I made captain I never left my crew working a fire.

We did spend the rest of the night there, me and the engine driver sitting on a 3-inch line pouring water on the fire in a surround and drown along with the other companies, thinking lucky, lucky, lucky.