Imagined inferno, real experience
Citizens face the heat during fire simulation
GREENWICH — Blind, I ran my hand along the fire hose as I crawled into the thickening smoke. All 59 pounds of gear weighed me down, shortening my breath. I was disoriented — until a firefighter put his hand on my shoulder.
Every resource a firefighter has becomes his or her lifeline. The hose was my lifeline because I couldn’t see through the haze. My tank of air was my lifeline because otherwise I couldn’t breathe. My wrangler, Lt. Shawn Morris, was my lifeline because he made me feel safe.
Regular citizens, including members of town government and the media, experienced the labor-intensive work of fighting a building fire, a car fire and wielding the “jaws of life” on Friday at the Greenwich Fire Department’s training facilities on North Street. The town joins cities and towns nationwide that have simulated these and other scenarios so
civilians can understand the physical, mental and emotional strains faced by first responders.
“The whole thought process with this day is just to get you thinking,” Greenwich Fire Chief Peter Siecienski said. “It’s very easy when we talk about the fire department to think ‘fire’ and solely fire. Greenwich Fire and Rescue is more than putting out a fire.”
My team consisted of First Selectman Peter Tesei and Board of Estimate and Taxation member Debra Hess. For our first simulation, Tesei uncoiled the hose, with Hess behind him, and they snaked it upstairs to the burning fire — actually where red lights glowed through the fog of a smoke machine.
I brought up the rear. During a fire, a staircase is like a chimney, and for safety, we crawled on our hands and knees on the way up and used our hands to scoot back down.
We took turns dousing the fire and bracing our partners against the recoil of the hose. The last to go, I put out the “fire” and crawled away, adrenaline pumping, breathing hard and thinking only of getting out.
That is, until I rounded a corner. I looked up and there was the Greenwich Time photographer, Bob Luckey: no gear, wearing his signature vest, clicking his camera at me.
“Oh, hi, Bob.” I felt ridiculous. It was only a simulation, but the sight of Bob made me realize how much being blind, smelling smoke and heaving a hose disoriented me and affected my brain.
Staffing levels
Back in the sunlight, we took a 10-minute break to hydrate after the exercise. My team — with three members and three wranglers — was able to take its time to complete the task.
By comparison, each fire engine in Greenwich has three firefighters, and they have about 10 minutes to start to attack a fire, Morris said. The national standard is four people (two inside, two outside) to every engine; ideally, the members include a captain, a lieutenant, a driver, who also operates the pump, and a fourth firefighter.
The town’s fire department has no captains, but it recently promoted four firefighters to lieutenant and swore in two additional firefighters.
Engines in town previously varied in size. Some had two firefighters and others had four, until two years ago, when the town redistributed the ratio to three members to every engine. Fire department leadership hailed the step, while the firefighting union disapproved of the reduced safety for the four-member engines.
“You can look at it from two perspectives,” Morris said. “The engines with two people now have three, but all of them are below
safety standards.”
Nearby, two firefighters checked out their colleague’s new protective gear, a crisp gray-black suit with shiny neon lines. They ran their fingers along the sturdy fabric and unfastened the velcro on the pocket on his right thigh, revealing a coil of rope and a hook: a bailout kit. Their inspection reminded me of a tight-knit sports team or fraternity.
“We horse around a lot at the station,” firefighter Todd Bataille said. It helps them cope.
Their interest in the bailout kit dates to 2003, when three firefighters jumped from the fourth story of a building on Davis Avenue, sustaining serious injuries. One firefighter fractured his pelvis, three ribs and his wrist, and sued the fire chief the following year.
If the three firefighters who escaped the burning building by jumping had used bailout kits, which the department purchased in 2017, they would not have sustained serious injuries, Morris said.
“Each one costs a couple thousand dollars,” he said.
“It all comes down to budget,” Bataille said. Even their lives. “What is the best technology firefighters can use?” I asked Morris.
He gestured to the ongoing inspection: The newest gear is lighter and more flexible. Likewise, the most advanced “jaws of life” is lighter than the department’s current model, which weighs in at 55 pounds.
“It’s very easy when we make a decision looking at a piece of paper, when you don’t necessarily see the faces behind those figures,” Siecienski said. “Our best piece of equipment lies in the heads of all these women and men in the department. We have the most talented, well-trained department without a doubt, and I’ve seen all of them.”
He hopes the next time the members of town government look at a request, they will know how the new gear or a new hydraulic rescue tool could help.
On the job
At the next station in the exercise, we cracked car windows and used the “jaws of life” and a massive bolt cutter to pry open doors, remove them and the roof of the car. Each hydraulic rescue device weighs 40 to 50 pounds and is awkward to use. They are the go-to tools after serious car crashes.
Morris and Doug Hawley, standing by, agreed the worst accidents occur on Stanwich Road and in the backcountry, where drivers speed down winding roads and, when distracted, cause head-on collisions.
Greenwich’s backcountry poses particular challenges for the first responders, because they have farther to drive, fewer pumps to draw from and larger houses to extinguish.
Over the summer, a house on Locust Road burned to the ground, leading residents to rekindle their calls for a Northwest Fire Station. For years, residents have expressed frustration over the lack of fire protection, but the push seemed over after the Representative Town Meeting cut the funds in 2016 and 2017.
“What’s the worst excavation you’ve had to do?” I asked Morris and Hawley.
They rattled off seeing massive amounts of blood, cutting survivors out next to dead passengers, people flying through their windshields.
“Anything involving kids,” said Morris, who has a 6-year-old and a 4-year-old.
After another break, Tesei, Hess and I practiced our dousing skills on a beat-up steel frame shaped like a car. The car had no hazards in the trunk, no gas had leaked from it, no victim was inside and it was not in a ditch or on a busy road.
The firefighters were quick to remind us those conditions are “perfect” and a rarity.
One final test
All the participants gathered in the burn room for our final simulation: sitting in a burning building. Flames engulfed hay and wood pallets — again, ideal circumstances. Plastics and other materials found in today’s home do not burn clean and fuel fires. The temperature reached more than 800 degrees near the ceiling.
My mask seared my skin, and I had to crouch down to cool down. I could not see my wrangler through the smoke as the flames licked up the wall. Morris said we could leave at any point if we felt uncomfortable.
Most of us stayed, to prove we could take the heat, even as the professionals closely monitored the conditions.
“It’s like a roller-coaster,” Morris said. “We want you to feel nervous, but know that you’re safe.”