Copyright 2006 The Daily Oklahoman
By CARRIE COPPERNOLL
The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma)
MIDWEST CITY, Okla. — Last week I was rescued by a pair of handsome firefighters, and I didn’t even need a fire to get them to save me.
The Midwest City Fire Department let me tag along during a training exercise that teaches firefighters how to rescue a fallen comrade.
“What are you,” Fire Marshal Jerry Lojka shouted, “five-three?” From a storage attic inside the Midwest City firehouse, he tossed down the shortest pair of fireproof pants and smallest black boots. I added the rest: the gloves, the hat, the air tank. A firefighter’s gear weighs about 40 pounds, and he has less than a minute to put it all on. I spent a minute just zipping up my coat. (See photo at right.)
I looked like a poster child for Take Your Daughter to Work Day.
The deserted Target building was the perfect place for this drill, said Lojka, who’s been a firefighter for 24 years, as long as I’ve been alive. Most firefighters die after losing their way inside big buildings. “Once you’ve made too many turns,” Lojka said, “you’re not getting out.”
A team of three men searched for Jarett Metheny, the assistant fire chief in charge of training. He played the role of the downed firefighter. Metheny duct-taped window tint over his men’s masks to simulate smoke. The firefighters carried a line, Hansel-and-Gretel style, inside the building so they could backtrack.
The tanks have about 15-minute supply of air, 10 if you’re breathing hard. That’s not enough time to find someone in a building this big, Metheny said. Their air tank alarms whined, alerting them they didn’t have much left to breathe. They turned around and let another team take over. The new crew traced the line to the back room where Metheny lay. The team dragged their friend out of the dark and out the door. They ripped off their masks and gloves and panted in the summer sun. A few men bent over, showing pink ears and necks, and gasped for air. Pulling a full-grown man and his equipment isn’t easy.
Metheny gathered everyone around him and talked about what worked and what didn’t. “I don’t know which went better, that first one or this one,” he said. “Textbook.”
Then it was my turn to be rescued. Though I hadn’t actually done anything yet, I already was sweating. Profusely. I waddled into a side room of the department store, lay on my stomach and waited. A two-man team arrived and flipped me onto my back. To avoid pulling a muscle, the two firefighters worked together to get me out: one pushing and one pulling. As the muscled, sweaty firefighters dragged me to freedom, I reflected on how much I enjoy my job.
Most departments don’t practice this, Metheny said. Most firefighters don’t want to think about it.
“Rescuing a firefighter is the most difficult thing we could ever do,” Metheny said. “We know each other’s families. We know everything about each other. We’re brothers.”