Divemedic

Volunteer fire departments are the backbone of the US fire service. No one has more respect for the spirit of volunteer firefighters- I began my career as a volunteer before moving on to do the job part time, then finally transitioning to being a full time, career firefighter.

There are advantages to both systems. The volunteer system is perfect for rural areas where the department doesn’t see more than a few calls a month. It’s inexpensive in terms of dollars, and this makes it cost effective.

Out of 461 total registered fire departments in Florida, roughly 315 departments use volunteers in some capacity. That ranges from a few auxiliary firefighters who will ride a fire truck along with a full time crew, to the more than 200 departments heavily utilizing volunteers to sustain daily operations.

The disadvantages to the volunteer fire system are:

• you are asking some citizens to assume the burden of protecting the community, while the vast majority of the community enjoys that protection at little to no cost. Those volunteers are paying for the community’s protection with their time, effort, and skill in exchange for a nominal fee or donation to the VFD.
• because their time is limited, volunteers don’t have the time to become as skilled as full time firefighters.
• Also because their time is limited, it is very difficult for volunteers to cover for a large number of calls. As a result, there is a limit to the number of calls that can be covered by volunteers before they begin to balk.

The traditional volunteer system has a fire station where the trucks and equipment are stored, and when a fire or other emergency is reported, volunteers respond to the scene while a few volunteers stopping by the station to bring the fire truck(s). Once call loads get to a certain point, and in my experience that’s about 1,200 call outs per year, it becomes more and more difficult to maintain this system. Some volunteer systems respond to EMS calls, and those departments are nearly always over that limit.

It’s at this point that volunteer stations begin having a crew stay at the station, just like a career department. The volunteer crews at the station carry the bulk of the runs, if not all of them.

Even then, there are only a few volunteer departments who manage to maintain a large call volume, and it’s getting more and more difficult to find volunteers nowadays. Especially with the modern trend of EMS and fire being combined, it’s even more difficult. It’s much easier to attract volunteers to fight fires (which volunteers and career firefighters both love to do) than it is to get volunteers to climb out of bed at 2am to wipe some old lady’s ass while picking her up off the bathroom floor. Most EMS calls are not life or death emergencies, and volunteers (neither do career, but you can make them) just don’t like getting out of bed for them.

For those reasons, the busier volunteer departments have to rely on paid EMS and fire crews for at least part of the day each day for the most part, because there simply aren’t enough volunteers to cover those stations at those call volumes.

Those 200 Florida departments who heavily use volunteers tend to be in rural areas where call loads are lower. In fact, all but 19 of those departments are north of Gainesville, with 15 of the 19 in the state’s peninsula being in Glades (pop 13,000 with 5 VFDs), Highlands (pop 100,000 with 6 VFDs), and Hendry (pop 40,000 with 4 VFDs) counties, all counties on the west bank of Lake Okechobee.

There are a large number of hybrid departments- where paid crews are augmented in some way with volunteers, but even that becomes difficult to maintain. One large fire department that is hybrid of which I am aware is Virginia Beach, VA, who staff the EMS side of the department with volunteer rescue personnel.

I was a volunteer for years: in Florida and Virginia Beach, where volunteers spent the night at the station assigned to a fire truck or Rescue Squad (volunteers no longer staff fire engines there), at several departments in Arkansas and in Florida where volunteers respond directly from home. Some of those departments had me getting paid to staff the station during the day while the volunteers were at work.

So what happens after you get hired? For the first several weeks, you attend a training program that is taught by some of the firefighters you will be working with. There are things and procedures specific to your individual department.

The SCBA your department uses, the medical protocols the department follows, personnel accountability, standard procedures for various functions like firefighting, extrication, operating our powered equipment, and more. After three weeks of training, you are assigned to the crew you will be working with. Most firefighters work 24 hour shifts, and each crew is called by its company number and crew letter: Station 1 A shift, or Ladder 72 C Shift.

Each piece of fire apparatus has what’s called “minimum staffing,” that is, the minimum number of firefighters that must be assigned to the vehicle at any one time. For example, at a station there might be a fire engine and a rescue unit, with 4 people assigned to the engine and 2 to the rescue for the day, but minimum staffing for them is 3 on the engine and 2 on the rescue. This means one of the personnel assigned to that crew can be off on vacation, sick leave, or temporary assignment at any one time. If the number falls below that, a spare firefighter can be “floated” to that crew for the day, or if none are available, someone from another shift is assigned overtime for the shift.

When you are new to the crew, you don’t count towards minimum staffing, you are supernumerary. You remain in that status until you are approved to count towards staffing. To do that, you must prove to the crew you can operate as a part of that crew and contribute to its mission. The officer in charge of that crew is the one who decides, but most officers make it a vote amongst the crew. Hey, if the new guy isn’t up to scratch, it’s their lives on the line, so it’s a fair way of doing it. The process usually takes 5-7 shifts, which is about 2 or 3 weeks. Until then, you concentrate on learning what you need to learn in order to be a help instead of a hindrance.

When you arrive at a station to be a new crewmember, you learn a few important things:

• Don’t touch the thermostat. You haven’t been here long enough to have earned that right.
• Don’t touch the remote for the TV. Shouldn’t you be learning something right now instead of goofing off?
• Don’t be the first person to sit down. Don’t be the last one to get up when there is work to be done.
• If you are 5 minutes early, you are already 10 minutes too late.
• You better make sure your assigned truck and the kitchen are clean.
• If another crew member asks you to do something on an emergency scene do it and do it well.
• If you don’t know how to do it, ask. No one wants someone winging it. They will respect you more if you ask than if you screw it up.
• We don’t care what you did, where you worked, or who you were before you were hired. You work here now, and you need to earn the right to be one of us. Act like you want to be one of us.

Those first shifts are spent memorizing everything about the truck you are assigned to- where every single piece of equipment is. How to operate every single piece of that equipment. Once your crewmembers are satisfied that you are knowledgeable enough to operate as part of the crew, your officer notifies the battalion chief that you now count for staffing. Now you are part of the crew. Time to prove to them that you deserve to stay there.

You spend the entire first year mastering the basics of being a firefighter. You are on probation for at least the first year. The leather front on your fire helmet is orange and says “Probationary” on it, and the reflective tape on your helmet is also orange. That way everyone on the emergency scene knows you are still learning the job, so they won’t expect more than you are capable of handling.

During that first year, you should spend every spare minute on shift studying something about the job.

Each 90 days, there is a course of instruction for you. There are things you must master during that 3 month period, and there is a written and practical test at the end of each period. The first one contains a map test, among other things. It has questions like:

You are driving south on First Avenue on the way to a call at 804 West Main Street. When you approach Main Street, do you take a left or a right?

If you happen to be a paramedic, you are also precepting at this time. You get paired with a senior paramedic whose job it is to teach you the protocols for medical emergencies. It’s up to that person to decide when you are ready to face the medical director’s exam. Fail it, and your precepting continues. That exam is where you sit in front of the department EMS chief and the medical director (who is a doctor) and they pepper you with questions on medical issues. Pass, and you can practice as a paramedic. Fail, and you have to remain precepting for a bit longer. If you can’t successfully complete that preceptorship in a reasonable amount of time, you are fired.

After you count for minimums, you will likely be on a rescue squad for at least the next month. Then you will rotate back and forth between that rescue and the engine.

Once you pass that first 90 day exam, you are now eligible to float to other stations, where you will be assigned to a rescue unit for the shift. Why a rescue? Because every rescue in the city is identical to every other, and has exactly the same job. No one has to worry that you don’t know what you are doing.

During that year, you have a lot to learn. You learn how to refill SCBA bottles, how to perform vehicle extrications, and how the department you now work for operates. Once that first year is done, you now know the absolute minimum you need to know in order to be successful. You can never know enough when you work in the fire department. There is always more to learn.

It all sounds difficult, but it really isn’t, as long as you are willing to work at it and aren’t a complete idiot. I was a preceptor and an officer, and in all the years I did it, I only saw a dozen or so who had their probation or preceptorship extended, and of those I only remember three who were let go. One of them (23 years old!) quit after his first shift because his mother said firefighting was too dangerous and wouldn’t let him do it. Imagine being a grown man, spending a year and $10,000 to become a firefighter, only to have your mother tell you you weren’t allowed to do the job.

So at the end of that first year, your officer and crew have decided you have learned all you need in order to be a permanent fixture. You are invited to a city commission meeting where you are sworn in, taking an oath that is remarkably like the one when joining the military. At the conclusion of that ceremony, you get your permanent leather front to your helmet, and a new set of yellow reflective tapes to replace the orange ones. You are now one of us and you get to uphold the traditions of the department while also ensuring those who come after you do the same.

Central Florida Fire Academy

To orient you: On the grounds of the fire academy, the classrooms were in th5 buildings in the lower right corner. The building labeled “2966” was the burn building. Three stories tall, it’s where we did all of our practice fires. The building just above the word “Central” was set up for climbing, rappelling, and ladder drills. The field just below it and to the left was where we practiced natural gas and vehicle fires. The large building just below the pond had a fire station and some dark mazes in it.

There were field sessions and classroom sessions. Classroom sessions were where we learned regulations, fire theory, and which NFPA chapter regulated what activity. I remember the fire academy was divided into two sections- the first section lasted about 3 months, and we did about 1/3 field work and 2/3 classroom. Session two was flipped- another three months of about 80% field work.

We began every field day in the fire academy the same way:

We would line up in ranks on the pavement in front of that fire station with our gear on the ground in front of us. The chief instructor would walk in and yell “GO!” and you would have 60 seconds to get all of your gear on properly. Then the drills would start.

I went to the academy on a schedule that saw us doing field sessions all through the summer. That was brutal. You learn not to eat breakfast or lunch. All we would have for breakfast and lunch was gallon jugs of Gatoraide. I swear I was drinking two to three gallons of that stuff every single day I was in school. The instructors used to tell us that, if we did eat, we should eat something colorful so our vomit would be entertaining. They called it our art project. I think I threw up in training at least once a month. You try not to get it on you or your teammates, wipe your mouth, and keep going. For God’s sake don’t throw up while you have an SCBA mask on.

Half of the field days in session two was always us doing the “Big Three.” You would put on an airpack for time and score, then pull an uncharged hose from the hose bed about 200 feet, charge it, then use the water stream to knock down three cones that were 50 feet away. Then move over to pick up and carry a 100 pound ladder through an obstacle course and raise it against that ladder drill building. All in full gear, all for time, and all of it with the instructors grading everything.

You could lose points:

• If you forgot to sing out that both of the pressure gauges on the SCBA were within 100 psi of each other
• Didn’t call out that you had checked that the dogs on the ladder were both locked, points off
• staggered on your feet when water pressure was applied, points off.
• Face shield on your helmet not all the way down, points off
• If either end of the ladder touched anything it wasn’t supposed to (the ground, a cone, another student), you guessed it…

There seemed to be an endless list of things that got points deducted.

We did hundreds of drills that included:

• crawling through pitch black mazes that went up and down stairs, had ropes in them set up to entangle you, dolls and mannequins hidden in them you had to find, sometimes with choke points so small that in order to make it through you had to take the tank off your back while keeping the mask on, pass the tank through first, then put it back on after clearing the choke point.
• raising a 30 foot ladder to completely vertical, fellow students holding it there with ropes while you climbed up one side, went over the top, then climbed back down the other side.
• Rappelling from the third floor to the ground, then learning to rappel from the third floor in to the second floor window, tie a harness on to another student, attach them to your gear, then out that window with them to the ground.
• We ran the combat challenge once a month

And of course we put out fires: Basement fires, car fires, gas fires, you name it, we learned to put it out. It was an incredibly fun and rewarding experience. We did everything you could think of that a basic firefighter would do. Practiced with axes, saws, pike poles, air chisels, crowbars, you name it.

Even training like this was dangerous. Several firefighter candidates have been killed in training. One in Miami died from heat stress. Another in Orlando after falling from the ladder building was giving her class a thumbs up as they took her to the hospital. Her aorta ruptured after she got to the ED, and she died right there. It’s a dangerous business.

At the end of all of that training, a state examiner came and tested our skills. First a written exam, followed by “the Big Three,” then 5 random skills and an oral quiz about HAZMAT procedures. My class started with 30 people. Of them 24 graduated, and 22 of us passed the state exam.

As far as I know, all but two of us is now retired, and those two are now chief level officers.

For the most part, the women didn’t do as well. There were 5 women in my class. Two didn’t get certified. Of the three who did, one was a beast. She was a Native American and I swear her Indian name had to be Kicks Lots of Ass. That woman was a true warrior who didn’t know what the word quit meant. She was also the oldest one of us. I can’t imagine going through that class as a 40 year old.

One of the guys who didn’t pass was a heartthrob. Women loved him, he was a good looking guy who had abs that looked like he did sit-ups in his sleep. Strong as an ox and could run laps for days. He was a nice guy, but he was dumb as a post. He was so good looking that he was the one the local news channel did a story on how hard it was to become a firefighter. So why did he fail?

I spent 4 hours the day before the state test trying to teach him the eight knots you had to know to pass the state test. In that four hours, I managed to get him to tie one of them correctly on a consistent basis: a bowline. (Some of the others were clove hitch, figure eight, figure eight on a bight, chimney knot, sheep shank, sheet bend, I can’t remember what the eighth was, it’s been 30 years) Anyhow, as luck would have it, the knot he was asked to tie by the examiner was the one knot he had been able to master- the bowline.

He got it wrong and failed the exam.

That fire academy no longer exists. It shut down, and a chapter of central Florida history came to a close. 48 years of teaching young recruits to become firefighters. Three classes a year most years, usually 20-30 per class. Thousands of firefighters began their careers there.