“Engine 264, Engine 532,Water Tender 85, with Engine and Squad 51, out of Station 86. Report of a garage on fire. 22456 Hitaga Road. 22456 Hitaga Road, cross street Paris Road. Time out 1200.”
A series of heavy rains had caused extensive flooding and mudslides over the Eastern half of LA County. With many of the companies in Battalion 2 committed, LA had made move-ups from relatively quieter areas. Thus, the crew of Station 51 now found themselves temporarily based in the Glendora area, at Station 86. Engineer Mike Stoker took a long look at the map. While he knew his first-in district in Carson like the back of his hand; Glendora was a whole new ballgame. Roy DeSoto and Captain Stanley joined him.
“It looks like its gonna be mud roads all the way,” Stoker said.
“Yeah, and with all this rain, they're gonna be pretty greasy,” DeSoto added.
“Well boys, we’ll just have to take it really easy on this one” Captain Stanley said as he handed Roy the address.
Sure enough, the Engine and Squad hadn’t gone more than a mile when the road turned to a soupy mix of mud and gravel. Deep ruts told Stoker that the road was in miserable shape as he eased up on the throttle of “Big Red.” To make matters worse, a front had gone through, making the area foggy, and cutting visibility to a quarter-mile at best. In a break from tradition, the Engine led the way with the Squad following close behind. From his seat in the Squad, Johnny Gage noticed that Stoker appeared to be having a hard time driving on the rutted, muddy road.
“Man,” Gage said, “Mike’s sure having a helluva time up there.”
“Yeah, we’re down to about 30 miles an hour,” DeSoto said, with an increasingly concerned look crossing his face. In the jump seats on the Engine, Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez were donning their Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus (SCBA) in anticipation of the coming fight. Just ahead of the Engine, DeSoto noticed what appeared to be a tight “S”-curve. The Engine made it through the first with a little bit of difficulty. As the trucks approached the second curve, Stoker and Stanley both saw a pickup truck coming down the middle of the road. Stoker moved as far to the right as he dared, hoping the pickup would do the same. A deep rut caught the right front wheel of the Engine, and pulled the rig towards the ditch. In the back, Kelly looked up to see the world suddenly taking a strange tilt, and heard the gut-tightening sound of the engine leaving the road.
“What the hell?” he asked Lopez as he tried to turn in his seat and look out the windshield. He never got the chance, as the Engine flipped onto the passenger side, pitching out Lopez. As the truck went over, Kelly’s helmeted head smacked the side window of the Ward-LaFrance, and he was knocked unconscious. The last thing he heard was Stoker’s “OH SHIT!!!” and the Captain yelling “Watch it, pal!”
In the Squad, Johnny and Roy were in a state of shock as they watched the Engine go into the ditch, flip onto its side, then roll-over two and a half times before coming to a rest on its wheels nearly perpendicular to the road.
“OH MY GOD!” Gage said as he grabbed the microphone. “LA, Squad 51, Engine 51 has been involved in a roll-over on Maine Ridge Road, about a mile South of Paris Road. Send out another Squad and get some ambulances up here!” Roy slid to a stop just short of where the Engine had stopped, and jumped out. He immediately lost his footing in the mud, nearly twisting his ankle. Gage was already out of the truck, and was sliding his way down the embankment to the demolished Engine.
“Cap? Chet? Marco? Mike?” Gage called out. Captain Stanley was still in his seat, with his head lying back and with a serious laceration across his forehead. Roy found Stoker outside the truck. He had noticed that Mike’s door was nearly torn off in the accident. Mike waved Roy off, saying, “I’m fine, I just hurt my arm and ribs a little…look after the others.” Roy nodded and joined Johnny who was looking at the empty jump seats.
“Where the hell are they?” he anxiously asked Roy, who had crawled into the cab to assess Captain Stanley.
“I don’t know, Mike’s up front there, I don’t think he’s in too bad a shape.” Roy said quickly, the adrenaline coursing through his system. Johnny in the meantime was frantically searching for Lopez and Kelly. Neither paramedic heard LA tone-out Squad 26 from La Puente, as well as other units to cover both the fire and the accident. Copter 10 had also been dispatched, but the pilot was forced to cancel due to the fog.
“Johnny!” Lopez called out. He was limping along from behind the Engine, and nearly tripped over the bundles of hose lying on the ground. Johnny ran over to him yelling “Roy, I found Marco, he’s limping back here!” Johnny helped Marco sit down, and noticed that his boots looked a little strange, even with all the mud on them.
“Are you allright?” Johnny asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay, John,” Marco replied, trying not to grimace from the pain in his back and left leg. “How are the others?”
“Ah, Mike’s okay, looks like he hurt his arm, Cap’s unconscious, Roy’s in with him. Have you seen Chet?”
“No, why? Haven’t you?” Marco asked, confused.
“Okay, look, he’s not in his seat, and I haven’t heard him yell-out.”
About that time, the pair heard someone yell “Get me the F___ out of here! Hey! Somebody HELP ME!!!” The voice sounded really muffled, and then Marco realized that Chet probably had his facemask on.
“Johnny, that HAS to be Chet, we had our masks on!” With that, the pair ran back to the Engine and started looking around and under it while calling Chet’s name. For his part, Chet kept yelling, hoping someone would find him, and soon.
“Hey you guys! I’m under the truck! Get me OUTA HERE!” he yelled, or at least he tried to yell. His head felt like a wall had fallen on it, there was a loud ringing in his right ear, he couldn’t see anything, and he was having a very tough time breathing. In fact, Chet felt like something was choking him. He was lying on his back, and had instinctively felt around to find out why he couldn’t get up. He soon realized the truck was sitting on top of him.
Roy was tied-up helping the Captain so he could only watch out of the remains of the mirrors as Mike, Marco, and Johnny reached under the truck. Chet had landed in a depression ahead of the Engine. It’s final flip sat the truck over him with the front tire just inches from his head. Johnny grabbed Chet’s SCBA strap while Marco grabbed an arm. On the count of three, they pulled their comrade out from underneath. He kept yelling the whole time.
“Hey! Help me! I can’t breathe! I can’t see! Guys! Hey!” Johnny tried to calm him down while he cut away Chet’s helmet and facemask. The helmet had a major crack on the dome, and the brim was all but broken away on the right side. Chet’s facemask had somehow slid up his face, while staying strapped airtight. The neck strap was now squeezing Chet’s neck, while the black rubber was over his eyes. Marco started cutting off the SCBA straps while Johnny undid the rest of Chet’s gear. Once the mask was off his face, and he could see and breathe again, Chet calmed down immediately.
“Hey, man, you scared the Shit out of us, what were you doing under there?” Johnny asked Chet in as close to a joking tone as he could muster.
“Shut up, Gage, and help me,” Chet said, although it was tough to understand him. Chet discovered that his jaw really ached, and that his bottom row of teeth seemed to be in three rows now. “Oh shit…,” he said as Gage quickly assessed him. The paramedic found blood coming out of Chet’s nose, and both ears. Then there was his mouth. Johnny thought for sure that Chet had lost most of his teeth.
“That jaw has to be broken in two or three places,” Johnny thought to himself. He also didn’t like the contusions Chet had over his right eye. He turned to Marco.
“Marco, can you grab the backboard, we’ve gotta get him immobilized.”
“Right, Johnny,” Lopez said as he limped his way up the embankment to the Squad.
“What can I do, John?” Stoker asked, looking down at Chet.
“Ah, how badly are you hurt?”
“My arm hurts real bad, I think I might have broken my shoulder, and my ribs hurt a bit.”
“Okay, Mike, ah, you really can’t do much here, ah, why don’t you go sit in the Squad until the others get here.” Johnny hated to send his friend away, especially since he desperately needed help to get Chet out of the ditch. At the same time, he knew Mike needed medical attention too. He breathed a sigh of relief as Squad 26 rolled up along with Engine 532. Johnny wondered who the paramedics would be; he wasn’t very familiar with the crews in Battalion 2. Upon seeing Engine 532, he reasoned that with all the calls in the area, LA had called in off-duty shifts to man even the reserve engines. He turned his attention back to Chet, who was mumbling something almost incoherently.
“Tell me, somebody tell me this is all just a bad dream…” he said.
“Chet? It’s Johnny, now I want you to listen to me. This isn’t a dream; it’s real. Now I need you to calm down, and tell me if you hurt anywhere, all right?”
Gage looked up to see half the crew from Engine 532 helping Roy get the still unconscious Captain out of the cab. He also saw the medics from 26 and the rest of 532’s crew bringing the backboard, oxygen, and trauma box to the ditch.
“Chet? Where do you hurt?”
“Ah, I, ahhhh. My jaw really hurts, I think it’s broken…. Also, my ear is really ringing.” Chet tried to sit up, but Johnny gently eased him back down.
“Now look, Chet, you gotta stay put. We’re gonna put you on a backboard, and get you to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Chet tried to say, it was very difficult to talk now with all the blood, swelling, and re-positioned teeth. “I don’t need to go to the hospital…I’ll be okay, just get me out of this ditch.”
“We’re gonna do that right now, Chet, and yes; you ARE going to the hospital,” Johnny said firmly. With that, the crew logrolled Chet onto the backboard and immobilized him with a cervical collar.
“What’s this for?” Chet asked. It was obvious to all that he was in an altered mental status.
“Chet, you’re an EMT, you know that’s a C-collar, and you also know it’s on there as a precaution for your own good,” Gage said. Gage also had to hold down Chet’s arms as a medic from Squad 26 taped them down. Chet was trying to tear the C-collar off.
“Take that damn thing off, I don’t need it, I can move everything,” Chet said in a drowsy, incoherent way. He also tried to turn his head away when Gage went to put the oxygen mask on him.
Ambulances were arriving at the scene. Roy and his team moved Captain Stanley to the first ambulance, and persuaded Stoker to ride-in also. Roy yelled to Johnny that he was going in with them, got an “Okay!” from Gage, and was off to Glendora Community Hospital. The fog had let up in Glendora, so County had Copter 10 stage there for the eventual trip to Rampart.
Now Chet was being brought up out of the ditch. As Johnny looked around, he couldn’t believe how many cars and pickup trucks were parked around the scene; and how many people had driven out to the remote location.
“Must all listen to their damn scanners,” Gage thought to himself. “Chet? How ya holding up back there?” he asked from the end of the board.
“Fine, just be damn-careful, don’t drop me!” Chet said from under the mask. He was loaded into the second ambulance. Gage gathered his equipment from the Squad, and took Marco by the arm.
“Come on, Marco, we gotta get you looked at too.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, you’re limping like hell, and I know your back is hurting you;” Gage said. “Now come-on, we gotta get moving.” With that, he half dragged and half-shoved Lopez into the ambulance. Lopez sat on the squad bench, looking at Chet in disbelief. Chet was now drifting in and out of consciousness. When he was conscious, he was belligerent and nearly combative. When he was unconscious, Gage worried even more. Johnny started two large-bore IVs of Lactated Ringers on Chet, and turned the oxygen up to 15 liters per minute. The ambulance was bouncing and banging down the mud road.
At one point, Chet came to, and again tried to take the oxygen mask off.
“Get this damn thing off of me! I told ya, I don’t NEED IT!” The ambulance’s siren also was annoying him. “And turn that damn siren off will ya?”
Gage leaned over his friend, and tightened the restraints on his arms.
“Look, Chet,” he said in his most friendly, soothing voice. “We gotta do this like we’re doing it, okay? Come on, Chet, you know the drill here. Just try to relax. We’ll be at the hospital in a few moments, just calm down, okay?” Johnny looked out the windshield, and saw the other ambulance just ahead of them. They were turning into the driveway at Glendora Community. He saw the red and white LA County chopper at the far end of the parking lot, and breathed a sigh of relief.
***
With the help of the ambulance and helicopter crews, the four injured firemen were quickly loaded into Copter 10, which then took off for Rampart. Roy joined the crew of the Air-Squad for the trip in. Johnny sat on the curb outside the Glendora Emergency Department, and waited for Squad 26 to arrive. As a light rain fell, Johnny thought about all the pranks Chet had pulled on him in the many years they had worked together at 51s. He almost smirked as he remembered the times he had gotten revenge on Chet, taking advantage of Chet being what he called, “a slow learner.” Johnny was almost in tears as he remembered the time Chet set his skies on fire in the locker room, and how the two of them had blown up the station’s TV set.
“Dear God, don’t let him die now, not like this…” his voice trailed off as he tried to choke-back tears. He heard a vehicle pull up, and saw Squad 26 sitting there. Slowly, he got up, and crawled into the cab.
“Have you guys heard anything?” Gage asked the medics.
“Yeah, Captain Stanley regained consciousness, and his vitals were stable. Your man with the arm and rib pain has a probable shoulder fracture, and several cracked ribs, the other guy was complaining of leg pain…small wonder with two left boots on!”
“What? What do you mean two left boots?” Gage asked, temporarily distracted by the apparent absurdity of the comment.
“I mean the guy had two left boots on when we helped him into the ambulance. Boy, don’t you Carson guys know which boot is which?” The La Puente medic said a little too sarcastically.
“Now look here…,” Gage said, ready to strangle the man.
“Hey, take it easy, pal. Bob didn’t mean anything by it, he was just joking around, that’s all,” the other medic said.
“Well, his timing really SUCKS!” Gage said while keeping an evil eye on the joker.
“Was there any word on Chet?” he asked, in a little calmer voice.
“Ahem, I, ah,” Bob stumbled over his words, knowing he was in grave danger if he said the wrong thing again. “He was still in and out of consciousness, last vitals were BP 102 by palpation, pulse of 110, and respiration shallow at 18. They should just about be to Rampart by now.”
Gage just nodded and turned to look out the window. As the last crewman of Station 51, he had to go back out to the scene to retrieve the Squad, and make arrangements to secure the equipment off of the Engine.
***
As they rounded the curve, Johnny couldn’t believe his eyes. There were large ruts where “Big Red” had left the road, and he could tell from the equipment strung out on the ground, just how the Engine had flipped and rolled. The 35-foot ladder from the passenger side was now bent; the 14-foot roof ladder carried with it was twisted. The 2-1/2” hose was completely out of the hose bed, and was clumped in a big spaghetti-like pile. The side compartments were either hanging open, or were crushed to where the doors were jammed. Johnny looked up at the cab roof. The rotating beacon light remained, but its red dome was long gone. Above Chet’s jump seat, he noticed that the roof was crushed down.
“It’s a good thing Chet was thrown clear,” Gage thought to himself, “otherwise, he woulda been crushed in there.” He continued to survey the damage, noting that the deck gun was bent, a testament to the violence of the rollover. He turned back towards the road and saw the Battalion 2 Chief walking towards him with the Captain from Engine 532.
“Fireman Gage,” Johnny said as he shook the Chief’s extended hand.
“Gage, I’m releasing you, take your Squad and go on down to Rampart, the Cap here and his boys will take care of the Engine for you. I’ve got Utility 2 enroute, they’ll pick up all the gear and take it down to Pacoima.”
“Right, Chief,” is all Gage could say. He was almost too shaken to drive, but knew he had to get to Rampart and see how Chet and the Captain were doing. On his way back to the Squad, he found a boot. He bent over to pick it up, and saw “Lopez” written inside it, it was a right boot. He thought back to what the guy from 26 had said, and then let himself chuckle. “I guess we’re gonna have to start calling Marco ‘Lefty,’" he said to himself.
***
At Rampart, Drs. Brackett, Early, and Morton were at the helipad along with Nurse Dixie McCall and a handful of orderlies when Copter 10 landed. The injured were quickly transferred to ambulances for the short trip to the Emergency Department. Brackett rode-in with Chet while Early and Morton went in the ambulance with Captain Stanley. In the ED, the rest of Chet’s uniform was cut off of him. He was unconscious again. A Foley catheter was placed in his bladder, and several blood draws were made for lab results. Roy winced as Dr. Brackett inserted the Foley into Chet, and thought to himself how under more normal circumstances Gage would’ve loved to have seen Chet get catheterized.
A CAT Scan of Chet’s head revealed skull fractures and the doctors were strongly debating whether to operate on them right away, or to wait a day or two. X-rays also showed that Chet’s mandible (lower jaw) was literally snapped in two. He also had multiple facial fractures. It was decided that in two days, he would undergo surgery to repair his face. By now, Chet had a textbook case of “coon’s eyes,” as well as “Battle’s signs.” His vitals had improved thanks to the IV fluids, and he was semi-conscious. Once his cervical spine was “cleared,” the C-collar was removed, and he was taken off of the backboard. He awoke in ICU, confused, dazed, and in pain. At his bedside were friends from B-shift. Marco Lopez was also there along with Roy and Johnny. He looked around slowly, taking in his new surroundings.
“What in the F___ happened?” he finally asked nobody in particular.
“Don’t you remember, Chet? You guys rolled the Engine,” Gage said.
“What?!?!”
“Yeah,” DeSoto chimed in. “We were going to a garage fire, and something happened to make you guys go off the road and into the ditch.”
Chet let this little tidbit sink in, then made a horrible realization.“Oh Shit! How are the other guys? What happened to them?” he asked anxiously. He tried to sit-up, but a sudden wave of dizziness, as well as Johnny and Roy pushing against him convinced him to stay down.
“Well, Cap’s down the hall, he has a mild concussion, they’ll probably kick him out in a few days.” Roy said.
“Mike is in with him,” Johnny added. “He broke his shoulder, and fractured four ribs. Poor guy also pulled a few muscles… guess he’ll be sore for quite awhile.”
“What about Lopez? I mean he was in back with me, and if I flew out…” It was very difficult for Chet to talk, his jaw was badly swollen, and hurting like hell. With his head injury, the doctors weren’t willing to risk a painkiller.
“I’m right here, pal,” Marco said, limping over to the bed. “I was pitched-out on the first roll, flew through the air, and landed on my air-pack.”
“What happened then?” Chet asked.
“Well, I laid there for a minute or so, trying to figure out if I was okay or not. I heard the Squad go flying by me, and looked up just in time to see the Engine stop rolling. I tried to get up, fell back down, and then finally got back up. I dropped the pack, and started limping over towards the rig. I didn’t get far before my right foot was cold and soaked, seems I lost a boot somewhere. A little farther along, I found a boot, and naturally figured it was mine, right? Well, it must be one of yours, ‘cause I had two left boots on!” Marco was grinning at this point. The guys from B-shift were ribbing Marco, and calling him ‘Lefty,’ as Gage had predicted.
“Hold it guys!” Roy suddenly said, he was looking at the TV, a picture of the destroyed Engine in the ditch was on the screen.
“Hey, turn it up!” somebody said.
“…This is all that remains of a County Fire Engine after a serious accident this afternoon near Glendora. Four firefighters are in the hospital tonight, with at least one in serious condition. The firemen were on their way to a fire when their fire truck left the road, and flipped over. Captain Hank Stanley is listed in good condition at Rampart General Hospital in Carson, while Engineer Mike Stoker is in fair condition. Fireman Chet Kelly is listed in serious condition and Fireman Marco Lopez was treated and released. The accident remains under investigation by the Sheriff’s Department.”
Chet just shook his sore head, marveling at the fact that any of them were even alive after a wreck like that. Johnny, picking up on the funk that Chet was slipping into, said “I guess now we have to call you ‘Lucky'.”
“Screw-you, Gage,” was Chet’s reply as he realized he had another problem.
“Ah guys? I gotta pee really bad, could one of you grab me a bed pan?” His request was met with a mix of grins and big smiles. He didn’t know yet that he had a catheter in. “Come on guys, I really gotta pee, get me something or I’m gonna soak this bed!” Johnny looked over at Roy with a big grin, as Roy just rolled his eyes and said, “Go ahead, you tell him.”
“Ah, Chet?”
“What, Gage?”
“You can just go ahead and pee, they put a catheter in.” Gage was trying to hide his grin, but couldn’t help it. Chet’s reaction cracked up the whole room.
“F___!!!!!”
***
A few days later, Gage dropped by Chet’s room to visit. He found Chet picking disgustedly at his breakfast.
“What’s wrong now, Chet?” Johnny asked.
“The bastards know I’m on a liquid diet…and they send up oatmeal I could use to plaster Paris!” Chet replied through a wired-up jaw. He had undergone 5-1/2 hours of surgery the day before to repair his facial bones. He learned that for 6 weeks, he could only eat liquids. He was not looking forward to that prospect.
“Well hell, Chet, it’s only for what? six weeks?” Gage said half-jokingly. “At least they didn’t have to work on your skull.”
“Yeah, I guess they were kinda surprised, the fractures started healing themselves almost the next day.” Chet was pleased with himself. The doctors had told everybody that it would take a while before Chet was really himself again. They had said, “He won’t just wake up tomorrow and be the same old Chet.” He laughed to himself as he recalled being just as goofy as ever the very next day.
“Well, Chet, we always knew you had a hard head,” Gage fired back sarcastically.
“I guess it’s a good thing I put my helmet on when I did, huh?”
“Yeah, between that and getting tossed out when you did, probably saved your life.”
“Damn,” was all Chet could say.
***
Chet was released from the hospital less than a week later. He was the last to be released. Cap had gone home within three days of the accident, and Mike was out a day or so before Chet. Mike had many months of physical therapy ahead of him. At first, he had blamed himself for the accident, but the Cap, Chet, Marco, Johnny, and Roy convinced him that it was just fate, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Coulda happened to anyone,” Cap told him. Chet stayed with family for a week as he continued to recover. It seemed to him that he was in more pain than when he was in the hospital! A Codeine and Tylenol mix was heaven in a bottle for Chet, as his skull fractures hurt like hell. His diet, consisting mostly of chicken broth, was making a stick figure out of him. To top it off, he was becoming the biggest grouch in Southern California.
***
Gage went to visit Chet once he had settled back into his own apartment. As he walked in, Johnny noticed that the place smelled kinda funny, almost like a wet animal.
“Hey, Chet, WHAT is that SMELL?”
“Oh, that’s that store-brand chicken broth,” Chet replied matter-of-factly. “Some brands are better than others, I’ve become quite the expert, you see.”
“Oh really, well, why don’t you just tell me what constitutes a good brand,” Johnny was egging him on.
“Well, for starters, if it has a big glob of fat at the top of the can, it might actually taste a little like chicken.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Johnny asked, becoming more and more intrigued by the moment.
“Well, if the fat glob is really runny, I’ve found I have to add chicken bouillon to the stuff to give it a flavor that’s almost not quite like chicken.”
“I see, well now, maybe you can explain to me what that smell is then.”
“Oh sure, that’s the acid test of which brands of chicken broth to stay away from…you see, if it smells like a wet dog, you want to avoid it at all costs.” Chet folded his arms across his chest, and nodded as if he had just made a great pronouncement upon society.
“Chet, I think maybe I’d better take you back down to Rampart and have Brackett take another look at that head of yours…”
“Oh screw you, Gage!” Chet replied angrily, then calmed down again. “Look, I’m fine, hell, if you think it’s so good, why don’t you go ahead and pour yourself a cup of it?”
“All right, all right, I will,” Johnny said. He walked into the kitchen, and paused. His nose curled up as he realized it really did smell like a wet dog in there. He noticed the pale yellow liquid bubbling in the pot on the stove, then reconsidered Chet’s invitation. “Tell ya what, Chet, I’m gonna have to take a rain-check on that broth, I need to get over to the station. Rumor has it, our new Engine is coming in today.”
“Sure, Gage, whatever. See ya tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Chet, see ya tomorrow.” Gage quickly left. Once outside the door, he chuckled at the fact that Chet was actually wearing the shirt he had gotten for him. It had the LA County Fire Department logo on the left chest, and was embroidered on the right with one word: “Lucky.” Marco had taken immediately to his shirt, which was embroidered with the word “Lefty.”
Author’s note: This story came about as a direct result of Jane’s challenge for a story about the Engine ending up in a ravine. It also was spurred by e-mail discussions with Heather Stern in response to her story “Squads Can’t Fly.” The vast majority of the details for this story came from personal experience. Despite wanting to be the next Johnny Gage as a kid, when this story was played out for real in December of 1996, I assumed the role of Chet Kelly. You see, I am a Lieutenant/EMT-Intermediate with the Central City Volunteer Fire Department in Central City, Iowa. On December 14th, 1996, my world was rocked when the pumper I was aboard left a muddy road, rolled and flipped in a ditch. Like Chet in this story, I ended up underneath the truck, blinded and choked by the equipment that was to protect me. I sustained skull fractures and multiple facial fractures including having my mandible split in two pieces. Six weeks of chicken broth…gotta love it. Yes, it really DOES smell like a wet dog if you get the wrong brands! Also, the deal with the two left boots really happened to my partner in back, he does have a shirt that says “Lefty,” and my shirt really does say “Lucky.”
The details changed were LA County fire units, some geography, and of course, the personnel. I tried to keep everybody as much in character as I could, while adding in the dialogue I recall from that day. Very little artistic license was taken in this one…except where needed to fit into the context of LA County, California, as well as the “world Emergency! Existed in.”
This is my first contribution to the page, and I hope it is well received. I’ve found parts of “Squads Can’t Fly” and “Welcome Back” that really struck a nerve in the aftermath of being in an apparatus accident, and having people wonder why I would go back to the job (volunteer) that almost killed me. What can I say? I love the fire service and EMS too much to not be a part of it. I am, however, sobered by the fact that I became a statistic, and that in 1996, roughly 909 of my fellow firefighters were injured in approximately 14,200 apparatus accidents.
"Big Red Meets Her Demise" ©1999 Chris Umscheid. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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