FIREFIGHTERS ARE THE REAL HEROES. FITZGERALD,
Doing their jobs involves going above and beyond
It’s a scene to which we’ve borne witness to too many times, marveling over the camaraderie shared by firefighters who’ve come from around the country to honor one of their own, killed in the line of duty.
We’re now seeing it again in Worcester in response to the death of Lt. Jason Menard, 39, a father of three, who spent the final solemn moments of his life guiding two fellow firefighters to safety from the ravenous flames that engulfed them before being snared by those deadly flames himself.
Yet the guessing here is that Lt. Menard would have rejected the notion of being a hero.
More than 100 years ago a New York City fire chief
Edward Croker, speaking upon the fiery deaths of a deputy chief and four firefighters, was matter-of-fact about that tragedy.
“Firefighters are going to be killed,” he somberly noted. “When they join the department they face that fact. It’s a hazardous occupation, tackling a burning building. Consequently, when a man (or woman) becomes a firefighter his greatest act of bravery has already been accomplished. Everything else is his daily duty. Firefighters do not regard themselves as heroes because they do what the business requires.”
No one knows that better than the citizenry of Worcester.
That’s what Tom Spencer, Paul Brotherton, Timonamed thy Jackson, Jeremiah Lucey, James Lyons and Joseph McGuirk were doing when a warehouse conflagration on Franklin Street consumed them in 1999 — doing what the business required.
That’s what Jon Davies was doing at an Arlington Street fire in 2011 — doing what the business required.
That’s what Chris Roy was doing at a Lowell Street fire in 2018 — doing what the business required.
And that’s what Jason Menard was doing last Wednesday morning at a fire on Stockholm Street as his wife and kids excitedly waited for him to come home so they could all leave on a long-awaited trip to Disney.
He was doing what the business required.
Nine Worcester firefighters have now died in less than 20 years, all doing what the business required.
Even today, at fire houses across the commonwealth, at fire houses represented by jakes from around the nation gathered at St. John’s Church, there’ll be firefighters waiting for calls to come in, giving no thought to the real possibility they could be answering their last alarm.
On the Commonwealth Avenue memorial to the nine Boston firefighters killed at the Vendome Hotel fire in 1972 you’ll find this inscription: “There is the unknown in every fire. You do our job, still something can go wrong.
“Our families know each day could be our last. We are not heroes. We do our jobs.”
They say they’re aren’t heroes, but we would respectfully disagree.
Indeed, if you find yourself in Worcester this morning, look for red trucks and dress blues and you’ll be looking at the very best among us.
Thank you, Lt. Menard. God bless.