What are you looking at? VES Size-up for Single Family Residences & Garden Style Apartments

The first time I initiated a Window-Based-Search (VES) on the fireground was on a fire that my Truck crew discovered around midnight on a spring evening.  We were returning from another box alarm and found ourselves pulling up to a large two-story single family home with the entire first floor on fire and an occupant crying in the front yard, anguishly sobbing that his girlfriend was inside.  

My department had just recently begun to add a second Truck on the first alarm for single-family residential assignments, whereas previously, two Truck responses only occurred on multifamily or commercial boxes.  Due to this change, an entire Truck crew of four could now initiate a search on a house fire, instead of our previous tactic of splitting two-for-search/two-to-the-roof.  Consequently, VES and how to employ it was a hot topic in our agency, a topic that my B-team partner (my brother) and I had drilled and spoken about in-depth. 

Here was a moment of truth.  

Fortunately, we were all dressed out (due to our earlier response), so as I came around the back of the rig after throwing my pack and grabbing my toolset, my brother and I made eye contact, and he calmly informed me, “She’s upstairs.”  

We had prepared for this..it was expected..anticipated..all I did was nod back and get on the radio to tell incoming crews that we were, “Initiating VES second floor, alpha side,” the only side of the building where second floor windows were not occluded by venting fire from the first. The victim was found and removed under fairly hostile and arduous conditions, which unfortunately she did not survive. As you can probably imagine, quite a few takeaways occurred that early morning, many career lessons learned.

 

That fire was eight years ago, and since then my brother and I have sized-up VES opportunities on every fire that we get assigned “all-in” for search, and on most of them, we employ the tactic. We use our designated bedroom window as a starting point for our search operation, with the goal of extending our search beyond that initial room.

Now, whether your department only employs VES as a target-room-search, or as a window-based-search with extension isn’t the topic I’m looking to hit upon with this write-up.  Instead, my desire is to share an aspect of VES that I believe gets overlooked during conversations and training around the topic, which is the importance of having a systematic method of VES size-up that is employed on the fireground before initiating entry.  Consequently, this write up is about the VES size-up that I employ during search assignments, primarily on single family homes and garden style apartments, a size-up that has been refined over these last eight years.  

We run positional assignments on my Truck company that encompasses both tool assignments and fireground tactical responsibilities.  Our A-team (Officer and Irons) force entry and locate/confine the fire and then commence their search from the fire’s seat.  The B-team consists of our Driver (AO) and our Tiller Operator (Outside Vent) who are responsible for performing a 360 of the fire building while “sizing-up” which bedroom window to utilize to initiate their search operation. 

Our VES size-up begins with the Dispatch reports of the fire and, if we’re not first-due, the size-up communications from the first arriving fire unit, such as: life hazard reports, size and configuration of the fire occupancy, fire/smoke conditions, etc.  If over the radio I hear, “One-and-a-half-story single family residence with heavy fire from the first-floor delta-side,” and if there are no additional on-scene victim location reports, then as the B-team, floor two is ours and that entry may have to occur from the Bravo side gable window due to venting fire on the Delta.

   

As we arrive on scene, if possible from our rig’s vantage, I try to catch a quick look of the residence to determine which side of the home/apartment will enable the easiest access to the Charlie side.  After gathering my assigned toolset, I make my way to that access point and begin to assess 5 things that are quickly and continuously reevaluated as each side of the structure is seen during our 360.  

1) Life - Are there any visible/audible signs of victims or any incoming radio reports giving a probable victim location.  If so, we initiate search operations immediately at that location.  Are there any cues that may signify a high occupant load within the structure, such as a high number of vehicles in the driveway or a large amount of shoes outside the front door?  Are there toys or play structures in the yard that can clue us in to the potential for children being present?  Additionally, are there any occupants that have jumped from the structure that are unseen and in need of assistance from an unassigned crew? 

2) Fire - What fire and/or smoke conditions are present from all sides assessed of the structure.  This information is not only invaluable to command and other interior crews, but provides our team necessary information on what conditions and potential fire spread to expect/anticipate both from the room we target for entry and the structure as we extend our search operation.  For instance, do we have smoke under pressure from the eave lines of a half story?  If so, we can expect high heat conditions on the second floor due to fire likely being in the knee wall and attic spaces.  Is there a heavy volume of fire present from the area immediately below our entry window?  If yes, then expect high heat and remember the need for diligent “sounding” during room entry and search progression.  Is there pressurized smoke emanating from around the window frame of your chosen entry window?  Then we must be aware that the space is not isolated and  anticipate that if the room doesn’t “light off” immediately after glass removal that isolation must occur rapidly to stave off that occurrence.  

     

3) Layout - As we arrive on scene, we must determine if the initial size up of the structure was correct. Does the building in fact have a second-story that was hidden by smoke?  Is it a duplex vs a single family residence?  Does it have a basement?  And so on.  Any new information that we discover will be vital to all crews on the fireground but primarily informs where we as a team determine to be the most vital bedroom to target for entry. 

 

If Charlie side access is unseen during our arrival, we have to quickly determine which side of the structure gives us the best route.  Is there a gate to the backside of the house?  Do we have extreme clutter surrounding the home (giving us a likely clue to interior clutter conditions)?  Are we at a large garden style apartment structure with the fire located in a central unit where access to Charlie can potentially be made through a bottom floor adjacent unit?  And of utmost importance, where do we believe the bedrooms to be within the structure?  Bedrooms are not only our primary access point to the structure’s interior because they are likely an isolatable space, but as Firefighter Rescue Survey continues to show, they are the most likely place to find a trapped occupant, no matter the time of day.  Lastly, the final layout cue that must be assessed and decided upon prior to taking glass for entry, is where do I believe the door to the room to be? 

4) Electricity - Or as I like to call it when instructing, “Magic”.  I address it as magic because not only does its existence slightly baffle me, but it also serves to lodge the importance of its identification on the fireground in the minds of those I’m speaking to.

As the VES team, we are likely going to be one of the first crews to perform a 360 of the structure, taking us along the route where aboveground power connects to the house. Consequently, our pathway is the likely location where a downed power line will lay if fire has caused it to detach from the structure.  Additionally, any existing chainlink fence that may be impeding our access to the Charlie side may be energized.  Furthermore, Murphy’s Law often seems to be in effect during upper story ground ladder entries, as in my experience the electrical drop seems to always be near our entry point.  As you leave the rig to perform your search duties (or any fireground operation), it is essential & of utmost importance to quickly look at the power poles to see where the drop connects and its condition. This simple act may prevent the Magic from “disappearing” you or your partner.  

5) "The Stretch” - The final component of my VES size-up is centered around Engine company operations, which due to my personal identification as a Truckie, I’m hesitant to share.  But the truth of the matter is that the aggressiveness of my search is largely dictated by how fire attack’s initial line placement and ongoing operations are progressing, due to potentially unchecked fire conditions in my search area. This assessment of “The Stretch" begins after I place my gear on the Truck and check the roll call to see who is staffing the Engines in my Battalion.  

A fundamental truth that seems to be downplayed or discounted during these present day “we are all the same” times is that Reputation in the fire service (your personal and your company’s) is everything. Your reputation is likely known and of utmost importance to those you work with, individuals whose lives may depend on your performance.  So as I scroll the Battalion page, I assess the reputations of the crews and individuals around my Truck company, reputations based off of my own professional interaction and/or from the experiences of firefighters I trust. 

Are they the crew/individuals that drills incessantly, purposefully refining their craft?  Are they a summer-time staffed crew of newer firefighters, well-trained but less experienced?  Or are they known by their reputation of being an “empty uniform”, a firefighter in title alone?  This reputation, coupled with any difficulties the fireground may throw at Engine operations, must be continuously weighed and evaluated as we perform our search.  So when I get to work, I assess reputations, when I get to the fire scene I assess the stretch, and when I’m at the interior bedroom door of our chosen entry room with fire in the hallway I think, “Is this the crew that’s going to make the push so I can extend my search?”

As I stated earlier, these size-up considerations are performed quickly and continuously as we begin our 360, a 360 that is performed at pace on the fireground.  Additionally, I shared in an earlier article, “The Detroit of EMS,” that I practice aspects of this size-up during medical calls in order to make the looking for and absorption of these cues automatic and reflexive.  This size-up practice is a simple yet effective method I highly recommend you utilize, if you don’t already employ it.      

It is my belief that Decisive-Deliberate-Aggressive-Action on the fireground saves lives.  Those four words are how I quantify my fireground mindset.  This mindset drives my personal performance by directing my focus on these three things:  Learning the basics, practicing them mentally and physically until they are automatic, and never losing sight on what I define our primary mission as firefighters to be- to occupy the interior fireground space aggressively with the intent of rescuing any trapped occupants, and in the process of performing this mission we save property while protecting each other.  Window based searches are a tactic in-line with this mission, a tactic that must be continuously practiced, “table-topped”, and applied for refinement. 

 

Over the years, in my mind’s eye, I have countless times revisited that spring evening fireground from eight years ago.  As fate would have it, the life lost that night was the sister of a member in my department, a good friend of mine.   My crew gave our utmost in our efforts to save her life.  And while that fireground proved too unforgiving of an environment for that to be possible, her death has served as a tragic reminder over these last eight years that I must continually hone my skills and abilities, for lives are on the line in our occupation.  These VES size-up cues are an example of this refinement process. 

   

My hope is that what I’ve shared will help you and your company further sharpen your search operations.  My hope is that this will help you in your journey to operate decisively, deliberately, and aggressively on the fireground.  Because I know that no matter your locale or career status or time on the job, those “moment of truth” fires are just around the corner, and they don’t care if you're ready or not.   

The Detroit of EMS

I wish that I could take credit for the title, but my brother, the little Asian one with the snarky mouth, dropped that on me one day, and its been rolling around in my head ever since.  He was speaking on how many medical calls we run: "We're the damn Detroit of EMS".  And he's right, we do run a lot of medical.


Now, I understand how and why medical response became one of the missions of my fire department and much of the fire service, but my personal experience with EMS has shown me that ALS calls are really a paramedic spirit animal that appears infrequently, yet captures the public's imagination of what we do on aid runs, and that my EMT-Basic skills on BLS calls (most calls) revolve around the "Basic-3":  1) Using the Magic Box for vitals.  2) Advanced lifting tarp maneuvers.  (And because the Ambulance crew forgets that their bed is generally their most important scene contribution)  3) Gurney fetching.  So I've chosen to reshape my perspective about medical runs into a way to improve my fire ground abilities.  For me, EMS means, "Evaluate Making the Search".


I'm far removed from being the originator of this mindset.  I've personally heard Bob Pressler, among others, speak on tactical fire size ups during aid runs several times.  Though his acronym does differ: EMS = "Every Minute Sucks".  However, it doesn't matter where the idea came from if it can make you and those around you better by sharing it.  Like Colonel Hackworth said, "Don't expect the combat fairy to come bonk you with the combat wand and suddenly make you capable of doing things that you've never rehearsed before.  It will not happen."


You want to get better at fire sh*t, better do fire sh*t.


The reason why I phrase this, "Evaluate Making the Search," is because I am assigned to a Truck company, and search for my department is primarily a Truck duty.  If you are on an Engine, that's cool.. I guess.., just think of it as, "Evaluate Making the Stretch."  But whichever rig you're riding, know that your evaluation starts at the station.  I typically drive, so when we get tapped out on a medical, I play it through my head like a fire run.  Do I know the route?  Any "moon cratered" streets along it?  What's traffic doing at this time?  House or apartment?  If apartment do I know the layout?  Will the Truck fit the complex's driveway?  All this (and watching out for idiot drivers) is on my mind as we roll.


When we arrive on scene, I perform my exterior size up.  What's the house type? (bungalow, split-level, etc.)  Where do I think the bedrooms are?  The stairs?  Does it have a basement?  Do I think it might?  How would I access it?  Are security bars present?  How easy is it to make the backyard?  Etc.


Now mind you, this is quick, just like on the fire scene.  I'm not standing in the front yard looking at the patient's house while they're at the window looking at me.  Likewise, when I enter the home, patient assessment is primary.  I don't walk in looking like I'm casing the place for robbery.


But like I said, most EMS runs for my company are not emergent.  So when not performing my Basic-3, I check out the home.  If it's a multistory, invariably the patient is upstairs.  So did I call the stair location?  What about the bedroom layout?  I also take note of what's under the bedroom windows for VES.  I assess what I got right during my initial size up, and more importantly what I got wrong or missed. 


Part of my search evaluation is also looking for signs of increased occupancy.  Cars in the driveway is Search 101 right?  What we need to do is find and practice those extra clue-ins as well.  For instance, it's not surprising for my crew to walk into a living room filled with mattresses.  What is surprising, and never ceases to confound me, is how an individual can lay on the floor trying to go back to sleep right next to us as we assess their housemate.  What I do understand though, is that if people are sleeping on the front room floor, then expect people jammed throughout the home.


We also have large immigrant populations in my first due.  And in my experience. these groups, especially in apartments, tend to have large extended families under one roof.  Since there is also a propensity for no shoes worn in their homes, I glance around apartment thresholds to take note of shoe numbers for an occupancy guess. 


Once my BLS skills are all used up and the patient is on the gurney, I have no qualms about asking them or other residents specifics about the home that I can't solve.  Where are those basement stairs?  Are the knee walls a finished space?  What I've found is that people love talking about their homes.  And if they're at all hesitant in their reply, I will just tell them straight up that it's to assist our search for them if their home ever catches fire.  Amazingly they become nothing but forthcoming with information upon hearing that. 


As we clear the call, my crew will often point out and discuss with each other notable layout features like surprise basements or hidden stairs.  Or commonly, after we've moved a massive weight, we'll talk through what that patient's removal would be like during lights out good heat conditions, with less hands and no tarp.  We are also sure to spend those few extra moments outside examining those structures that exude that "Gonna Burn Someday" feeling.


Like I said before, this isn't a new idea that I'm writing about.  But if it is new to you, just know that the more you intentionally "Evaluate Making the Search/Stretch" during medical calls, the better you will be on your next fireground, guaranteed.


I wish that my department wasn't caught in the "you call (for anything), and we'll come" response model that those of us riding the rigs experience everyday: a liability based framework that generates the "Detroit of EMS" comments from those on the backstep.


But that's not my reality nor the reality for many of you reading this, I'd guess.  The answer to when that will change escapes me.


But what I do know is that any moment that fire with entrapment can occur, so I'm going to take every opportunity to prepare for that emergency, even during those calls that are not emergencies.  If you adopt this mindset I believe on your next three am bellyache, despite what Bob says, "Every Minute doesn't have to Suck."


Just most of them.

The Life of a Fireman... Wait can I say that?

My Department has a rich and proud history, from its volunteer beginnings in 1850 to the establishment of a paid professional force in 1883, to the pride in which we hold and carry ourselves today.  It’s a celebrated history displayed on station walls throughout the city and commemorated annually at our memorial honoring the fallen.  A history recognized by a member of my station when he came across an original full page newspaper article from 1937 entitled, “Ho, For the Life of a Fireman.”  It displays a collection of staged photos of on-the-job life, from the enthusiastic climbing of an aerial to the sober-faced tillering of a truck.  Along with stating the name of each individual pictured, it proclaims that my department is “second to none.”  My friend decided to frame this article and gift it to our training station, a place where our probationary firefighters are first assigned after academy to acclimate them to the job through emergency response coupled with constant evaluation.  It found a home on the kitchen wall, where I saw it for the first time a few months back.  I was instantly drawn to it, due to its excellent condition and the representation of the job from a bygone era.  Personally, I thought it would look better on the wall of my station, but I felt that this was an appropriate place for it: 1) Because of the nature and function of this particular house, 2) It also fit with the other black and white pictures of a similar time period that line this station’s walls.  A few weeks later it came as a big surprise to find out it had been taken down.  It supposedly didn’t represent the changing nature of our department.  My understanding is that this was seen as an issue of gender more than an issue of ethnicity.  I don’t agree with that.  I feel the article correlates equally to both, yet holds a significance greater than either.  A significance rooted in why I feel it should not have been taken down.

For those of you don’t personally know me, (or who haven’t creeped my Facebook page yet), I am a man in possession of brown skin.  My skin is infused with ¼ part Japanese, equal quarters Jamaican and African-American, and ¼ part European (a French-German Mix).   I grew up surrounded by different peoples and cultural traditions (which allows me to insult most backgrounds in the Firehouse without repercussion).  But more importantly, my diverse ethnicity helped shape my understanding of the sameness that exists across racial lines.

 I’m sharing my background to make this point.  Not one of those men pictured in the aforementioned article or in any of the frames lining this particular station’s walls, looks like me.  And guess what?  I don’t care.  I don’t care, because I understand what they represent.  They represent not just a segment of my professional history, but part of the deep foundation of individuals in this job who earned the respect and trust that I receive today from the vast majority of the public.  It is a respect and trust that I am expected to protect and to pass on to future generations of firefighters.  I look upon those pictures with pride (and in some cases envy, when viewing the fires they battled).

 I also understand that my department is proud of me.  Proud to celebrate the changing face of the service as it continues to more accurately reflect the public we serve.  I don’t possess a short sidedness of history or the self-absorption of my own heritage not to realize where the roots of my department come from, or to where they are presently growing.  I feel that taking the article down is a missed opportunity to educate our new hires on our tradition and departmental direction.  Or possibly we are hiring the wrong individuals if we are concerned about offending their sensibilities of gender and/or ethnicity, even after we’ve shown them otherwise, by giving them our badge.  

Now if you simply walked into the building located next to this station, you would see the main hallway covered with the framed pictures of my department’s Firefighter of the Year recipients.  If you stood before the 2012 honoree, you would see a professional who is well deserved of that recognition, a woman.  A firefighter celebrated for her ability, not her gender.  That same year, our city appointed our first female Chief of Department.  These are two resounding steps that represent the changing nature of my department, steps that I feel fall quieter with the act of denying a word.  A word that was especially true for the year 1937.  Fireman. 

Ultimately, this issue has already been addressed by my agency, in our most public space.  Residing in the downtown lobby of our headquarter station is a beautifully restored steam powered pumper from 1911.  Directly across from it hangs a collection of photographs on two adjoining walls.  The left face is a floor to ceiling image of one of our volunteer fire companies from the turn of the century, all white men.  The right wall displays the face of my Bureau today.  It shows the various activities that comprise our emergency response, performed by men and women of varied ethnicities.  Coincidentally (or perhaps intentionally) there is a sign standing in front of that gorgeous pumper.  It shows the horse drawn apparatus of the past and its evolution to the frontline rigs we have today, and is titled “The Changing Face of Firefighting.”  Both of these displays show how we can embrace our past while simultaneously celebrating our present.       

I’m sharing my thoughts on this matter because I know that this issue is not unique to my department.  My personal opinion is that we cannot change the past nor should we try to.  I feel hiding behind the smokescreen of political correctness and fear only belittles our professional history and diminishes the impact of the future we are striving for.

For updates on future posts I can be found on Facebook at- Adz Deep.     

The Life of a Fireman...

                

Be a Man. Put on Your Purse

The radio strap (more commonly known in my department as a purse) first started to make its appearance in my agency about 10 years ago.  It is an available, yet not required, piece of equipment that the majority of my department chooses not to wear.  In some circles it is incredibly belittled, and personally, I heaped my share of ridicule upon individuals who wore it. Somehow I ignorantly overlooked the fact that its use would have stopped the aggravating occurrence of my radio falling out of my damn chest pocket.  Instead, I would just periodically flail around in the darkness 'til I'd come across my lifeline to the outside world and stuff it back into its useless holder. I wear a strap now because I have come to recognize its vital use, and I try to convince others on an individual basis to do so as well.

Just the other day, I was speaking with a good friend, one hell of a fireman and a newly made officer, about the reasons why he chooses not to wear one.  He told me, straight faced, that he personally had never had his radio fall from his turnouts on the drill ground or fire scene.  Trying to keep the "Motherfucka Please" look from my features, I suggested he wear it not for himself, but for his crew. At this point "The Look" must have started to cross my face, because the conversation got awkward.  So I figured I needed to take a step back and try a different tact another time.  On my drive home the next morning, I realized I had to make it personal. That's what we do on the job, right?  It's one of the powerful ways in which we learn.  Mistakes beget growth, both on an individual and a collective basis, if shared and learned from.  So I've decided to tell how my personal change of heart about the strap occurred.  It happened about 5 years ago as I was trying to help a woman, a woman on fire.

The box came in right after house work, say 10 am.  It was in our first due, and I recognized not only the address but the apartment number as well.  I was riding the Irons that day, so as we arrived I was out of the jumpseat fast, tools in hand.  Two story center hallway apartment, nothing showing.  Our Engine was on a hydrant behind us, and I could see their B team grabbing a can.  I knew that they'd be right behind me, so I hauled ass to the second floor.  I also knew that the door would be unlocked because the woman who lived there was a parapalegic who called us frequently when she fell from bed.  As I entered the front room, I could see moderate smoke coming from her bedroom, along with agonized screams for help.  Turns out that it was only a mattress fire, but she was still on it with the side safety bar locked in place.  I reached into the bed and snatched out her small frame, smothering her burning clothes with my turnouts and gloves. She had been smoking in bed on home oxygen.  I realized this after her now smoldering clothes began to reignite from the O2 flowing from the melted tubing wound about her.  After I tore the tubing away from the cylinder and stopped the flames, I reached for my radio mic to give a report and call for an ambulance, but it wasn't there.  Her writhing, coupled with my actions, had ripped my radio off my turnouts, and I couldn't see it on the floor.  Fortunately, after one dumbstruck moment, the Engine made the room.  I forcibly grabbed one of them and called for ALS help over his radio as he stood there as my mic stand.  We then swooped her up and took her out to an ambulance that had thankfully already been added to the box.  I never saw her again, but I will never forget her.  If I was wearing a strap would it have changed her outcome?  No.  But it would have taken away that momentary feeling of ineptness I had when I realized my radio was gone. The feeling of being part of the problem, not its fix.  Honestly, I've never really talked about this event, because when I think about it, I can still hear her pleading, and I remember that sense of ineptitude.  I'm sharing this story now to help better frame my opinion about the importance of the strap.  To help convey its true nature as a vital piece of fire equipment, not a piece of imagined east coast flair.  I couldn't tell you how many previous times I've had my radio fall out during drills and fires, but there were a number of them.  I can tell you that after this call, I never wanted it to happen again.  And since I've worn a strap, it never has.

I'm proud of my department for many reasons, one being the mandatory use of the strap for all new recruits over the past few years.  Probies learn from day one of its importance and ease of use. However I have my issues with my department as well.  Those of you who have attended a Brothers in Battle class have heard of the two firemen from my agency who fell through the first floor to the basement at a good working fire.  Yet the significance of one of their radios being torn from their chest pocket during the fall and the continuous keying of its mic on the fire channel by a piece of debris does not carry the importance in my department that I feel it deserves.  We all know our radios are one of the most vital tools we carry on the fire scene.  Not only for the routine situational updates, but more importantly for those worst case scenarios we cannot anticipate. Shouldn't we ensure for ourselves and our crewmates that it is always there when needed?  This post is meant for my friend and for those in my department and elsewhere who ignore or who are simply ignorant of the strap's vital function: to protect our lifeline.  So please.  Be a man, and put on your purse.

An indepth report, on the strap vs the pocket, can be found by Googling- Fairfax Radio Report.

"The Sh!t-Show"

I'm gonna take a wild ass guess and assume that, like me, you did the hydrant dance so many times in the academy that your trainers were like, "You'll be able to take a hydrant in your sleep."  A statement which hit me in an "ah-hah" moment at a two-in-the-morning greater alarm as I was twisting caps, thinking about the line that I needed to help stretch.  I know, #1 Sweet...Training is paying off, allowing me to think one step ahead.  #2 Yes.. Unfortunately I did have to ride an engine for a few years after probation.  All kidding aside, an underlying fact of our business is that preparation and regimented practice create a muscle memory we need in the fire service.  This conditioning helps keep your "awareness bubble" from constricting, allowing you to perform actions while still taking in and processing information.

Now let me ask you.  Have you ever seen a "Box alarm Shit-show"?  Firemen scrambling at shift change to pull gear off the rig and grab their own, while off-shifters, who are still in the riding position, get ready to jump on the rig because a fire popped off in your first due.  I've observed this now and then, and it sucks every time.  See, when I was a probie, a senior man took me aside and said, "When you first get to the station two things, get your mind right and your shit ready.  Think about that fire or pin-in that may be tapped out right when you get to the house.  Don't think about the mundane of the job, but focus on the extra-ordinary, and be ready for it."  Twelve years later I still think of this as I'm driving to work.  This used to be 10 minutes of thought.  But, I married a country bohemian who worked her hippie magic on me and took this city boy to a farm damn near 2 hours away.  So I have ample time to ponder shit.  I eat a banana, drive faster than I should, and drink more coffee than I need.  You can imagine when I get to the station, I'm ready for a real breakfast.  But more importantly my body has learned that after 5 years of this drive, a sit-down potty would be great.  But I remember those words.  So I grab my gear, relieve the off-shift and get my "shit ready and mind right" the same way every day.  I make sure my bottle is full and operational.  I hang my turnouts just right.  I ensure the tools I'm responsible for are serviceable and in place.  I settle my thoughts while I do this, centering myself around what this job's about.  And then, I go make room in my belly for a good breakfast.  (Farm fresh eggs of course.)

But as I leave the app bay, every now and then I see a pile of gear staged at the back of a rig.  I see that gears' owner sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, stories in progress.  And a part of me cringes, for I know as a whole, our station is not as ready as we could, and should be.  And if that box alarm drops, I'll observe the "shit-show" as I go through the practiced motions of turning out.  I know my packs good, that my Irons and TIC are in place.  I can concentrate on slowing my adrenaline rush.  I can get my mindset focused while keeping my "awareness bubble" open.  I'll be settling into my established rhythm, not stumbling out of the blocks trying to recapture my stride.  I'll be taking that damn hydrant again in my sleep.

Now, I get it.  Sitting around the firehouse table is the goods.  All subjects are fair game: the previous day's fire, marital decompression, or watching the tinder swipes of the one single guy still in the house.  Like I said, I get it.  But small things can have big impacts. And I feel that choosing to make that gear pile instead of putting things right, diminishes our awareness from the start.  I love this job, and the responsibilities that it carries.  When I hang my gear on the rig, I truly expect fire.  When I check my tools, I tell myself that if someone is trapped I will get them out.  I want my best to be good enough when it counts.  So instead of walking past the kitchen table immersed in my own routine, I know that it's up to me to pull that brother aside and pass on those words I was given.  To ask him if he is truly ready for the day.  If his mindset is where he feels it should be.  I'll remind him that this job plays for keeps, and that it's imperative we control those facets that are controllable.  So much is out of ours hands in this profession, but you don't have to be a senior man to care for, grasp, and mold those aspects we do have a hold of.   We owe this to each other.  And more importantly we owe it to those we are here for.