The (secret) dark side: The reality of a first responder’s job
can be traumatic
Story & Photo by Harold Schapelhouman

Recently, I was asked to do a presentation for a Catholic men’s group on the various disasters I’ve responded to over the years. More than 100 men showed up to the event, where I delivered about a 45-minute discussion that included the Loma Prieta earthquake, the Oklahoma City bombing, the attack on the World Trade Center, the space shuttle Columbia tragedy and Hurricane Katrina.

I tried to keep the subject matter as light as possible, focusing on hope, rather than the despair of each event, but it’s hard to talk about what really happened during these events and not sugarcoat them.

The guys were a good crowd; many came up to speak with me when it was all over. The president of the group showered me with praise, but I have to say it just didn’t feel right.

Mental Preparation Required
I very rarely share with civilians what really happens during major incidents that we respond to. Over the years I’ve discovered that people may say they want to hear what happened, but once you get into it, most become visibly uncomfortable if you get too graphic.

I’ve also noticed that junior firefighters, rescue personnel or anyone who hasn’t experienced a real catastrophic event usually aren’t mentally prepared for the scale and scope of what they’ll be asked to do and see. I can always tell when I push students’ imaginations in the classes I teach. Ask them to define a disarticulation or if they could cut a dead body apart (ask yourself those questions!), and you can see the wheels turning.

If the same personnel did that type of graphic, intense work over and over again, you can imagine the potential debriefing, defusing, critical incident stress management and post-traumatic stress disorder issues that those individuals and/or their department may have to address.

And if you’re the one in charge, what do you do? Do you just potentially screw up a few folks? Add in children, family or co-workers, such as police or firefighters, who are also deceased, and you further complicate any search and rescue/recovery situation.

Reality Check
There are no easy answers, no magical formulas or protocols for how to deal with the darker side of our job. Most agencies haven’t even discussed it with their county coroner or medical examiner because no one really wants to think about it, let alone talk about it, or has a policy that addresses it.

After the Oklahoma City bombing, it was found that many of the emergency workers waited for as long as 3 years before seeking some sort of help. Most tried to work through things themselves or were in denial prior to seeking assistance.

This isn’t a criticism; it’s hopefully a reality check. I know I wasn’t mentally prepared for what we had to do and see after the Oklahoma City bombing. It took me 5 years to put it all in perspective, just in time to deal with the World Trade Center terrorist attacks in New York.

Remember Recovery
The reality of urban search and rescue is that we’ve forgotten one critical component of the job: recovery. Most of what we did in Oklahoma City at the Murrah building was body or body part recovery, not rescue. The same thing occurred at the Trade Center, only on an even more unimaginable scale. After those events, many of us were celebrated as heroes upon our return home, which was in direct conflict with what we were emotionally experiencing, because of what we’d seen and the graphic nature of what had to be done.

So while we were good embassadors and put on our game faces, it was hard to be comfortable with the attention and the almost celebrity status. I had dinner with former President Clinton after 9/11 and was thanked publicly for our “rescue” efforts. If only people knew what those “efforts” really consisted of.

In direct contrast to 9/11 was Hurricane Katrina, after which we rescued almost 1,000 people. Amazingly, we came home to a public that was indifferent about the event because they believed the federal government had screwed up. We went from hero to zero; it was unbelievable to see and experience. Although we weren’t blamed directly for the failures that occurred, we certainly weren’t celebrated as we’d been in past events where we had rescued no one.

Conclusion
As I finished my presentation to the almost silent room of Catholic men, I told them that I had found hope in my own despair; that we’re often reminded in these events that life is a gift not to be wasted; that good can and must prevail over evil; and that in difficult times, some must step forward to take risks and do the difficult tasks so others can be inspired and assured by our actions that “normal” life can resume again.

They all applauded, but only I knew the true dark secrets of our profession.

Harold Schapelhouman is a 28-year veteran firefighter with the Menlo Park (Calif.) Fire Protection District. At the start of 2007, he became the first internally selected fire chief in 21 years for his organization. Previously, he was the division chief in charge of special operations, which includes all district specialized preparedness efforts, the local and state water rescue program, and the local, state and national Urban Search and Rescue Program (USAR). Schapelhouman was the task force leader in charge of California Task Force 3, one of the eight California USAR teams and one of the 28 federal Department of Homeland Security (DHS/FEMA) teams.


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