Growing up on military bases and seeing my own dad as the hero he was, I often dreamed of serving others and maybe even doing so in uniform. Once dad retired from the United States Air Force, we settled into a beautiful home on Lake Tuscaloosa in Northport, Alabama. I was often looking for new ways to explore and do more. Then one day I saw a flyer taped to the counter at Burkes Pump and Dine.
This was a classic gas station with a full kitchen, indoor picnic tables, and the sweetest smiles behind the counter. And even though it’s not central to the story, I have to tell you that the burgers at Burkes were the biggest, fattest, juiciest, tastiest burgers on planet earth. I can taste one of those oversized treats just thinking about them. But I digress.
Right there on the counter was a flyer advertising a search for willing and able men to join the local Volunteer Fire Department. I made note of the day and time on the back of my receipt and went on. A few weeks later I showed up at the fire station.
I was sure I wasn’t late, but things were well underway. The fire chief was guiding the guys through setting up collapsible dump tank used for maximizing available water supplies when hydrants were not available. The chief broke away and left a deputy to lead the guys while he talked with me. Ensuring I was old enough and had my parents permission, a reliable vehicle – my 1954 Chevy Truck was mostly that, and an availability to drop everything and run into trouble, the chief was satisfied.
The chief gave me some paperwork and told me to work on it as I listened in. This would be good. One of the forms listed the gear I’d be issued and included a radio that could reach me anywhere in the county. After having played with CB radios, toy walker talkies, and even military radios, I both had an understanding and a desire to get to use it officially.
You see, I’d had a pair of military radios back in the day. We lived on Minot Air Force Base, and I’d gotten the radios at the military surplus shop in town. Man were they cool. I’d ordered new crystals for them and picked them up from Radio Shack, and it worked great. Of course, in Bryant fashion, I had to do more. I got a 100 foot coil of wire that I’d picked up from the dumpster at a construction site on base, and took off into the woods. There was a tree line near one of the base exterior fences, and I’d built a tree fort here before with my brother.
Today I was all alone. I wanted to know how far my radio would reach with a proper aerial antenna. So up the tallest tree I could find I went. I tied off the end of the wire and climbed back down. From the ground, I tapped the wire onto the radio’s antenna and turned the bulky knob past the detent and up until
I could hear something. I adjusted the squelch and slowly rotated the channel selector until I heard voices. Naturally, I spoke back and asked who they were and what they were doing. This was living the dream! They were saying something about an exercise and I was asking about their location and who they were. I didn’t know or follow protocol, but I also didn’t know that.
It wasn’t long before a Military Police Jeep stopped along the road and two airmen went hunting for the source of the signal.
And no, I didn’t get caught by the MP’s that day, but I didn’t have to hide in the tall grass about an hour until the MPs left and I could climb back up to get my aerial. It was another day a few months before this that I did get caught. But I was innocent! I swear!
I had a habit of going over to the dumpsters by the airman barracks on Saturdays because the airmen would often get transfer notices that forced them to abandon anything they couldn’t sell on the spot. I had found a reel-to-reel recorder and mic setup, several stereos, a nice bike, and more. But one particular Minit summer day (yes, they exist), I rode my bike over to the barracks and was mind blown by what I found inside. There was a pile of the coolest looking machines. They were all laboratory green with dials and knobs and gauges all over. I pulled one out and was studying it. I had no idea what it does, but I had to have it. I tied it to my bike by the power cord, then went in for another. In all, I got seven different super cool mystery machines, but had to leave some because I just couldn’t get them all on my bike.
I managed to ride my bike back home – about two miles away – with these heavy and bulky machines tied all over the bike and a couple on my back. Once home, I set them up in the garage. There were four outlets available, so I was able to plug all of them in throughout the garage. I felt like a mad scientist! I would adjust the knob on one and the gauge and lights on another one across the garage would light up. I was able to get one of them to display a cool racer looking screen and it was clear that it detected a couple other machines across the garage.
I’d been at it for hours. Making notes in my Trapper Keeper notebook about what they did and how they responded to one another. I was lost in my mad science experiment and loving it. Until I heard the oddest noise. It sounded like multiple cars pulling into the driveway and lots of men talking. Then someone banged on the door and then the garage door. I opened the garage door and was stunned to see four military police and a couple other guys in uniform all standing there – and the police had M-16s! Apparently, I’d gathered some stolen F-15 Eagle fighter jet test equipment, and all my knob twisting had broadcast my location. Quite precisely.
I was baffled about why they were there but they immediately rushed into the garage and were studying my lab equipment. I explained that I was able to do all kinds of fun things with them. The MPs insisted I tell them how I got them. When I explained that I’d gotten them out of the dumpster by the barracks, they were skeptical.
During all the scuffle, my dad arrived in a jeep with two other MPs. Apparently, he or I was in big trouble. I was out in the back of a jeep and taken to show them where I got the gear. Fortunately, there were still several pieces in the dumpster. That was enough plausible evidence to support my story. They seized all of it and I was left with nothing but a cool story. And a desire to learn more about radios and lab equipment.
Fast forward back to filling out paperwork at the Carrol’s Creek Volunteer fire station, seeing the mention of being issued a radio had me excited. Just as I was focused on the paperwork, an alarm came in to the station. It startled me quite well, but the chief and all the other guys jumped right into action. Trucks started rolling out in no time. The chief asked me what size boots I wear and I told him a 12. I couldn’t imagine why that was relevant at the moment. He pointed me to a rack that had turnout gear – the suit a fire fighter wears on scene. I grabbed the upper and lower gear and a helmet, and he told me to climb in the tanker truck as his passenger.
Now, I’d seen my share of excitement up to now, but I was a new kind of nervous. The chief was telling me that he wanted me to observe only; don’t touch anything unless he tells me to, and don’t take any risks. I’m a trainee only and not a fire fighter. Got it. Meanwhile, as he’s speaking, I’m trying like crazy to get the turnout gear on. I tried and tried, but couldn’t get my feet in the boots.
The chief was busy driving but he told me to sit back and take a breath. I was a little confused but did as I was told. He said “Son, you’re gonna have to take your cowboy boots off before you can put the turnout boots on.” I was so nervous that I didn’t even realize what was wrong u til he pointed out the very, very obvious issue.
Once that was settled, I was able to get all the gear on pretty quickly. We arrived on scene about twelve minutes after the alarm, and the guys were calmly but steadily setting up to fight the fire. We were parked across the front yard of a mobile home and the fire appeared to mostly be in the trees behind the house.
The chief was explaining the systems in the tanker truck to me as he connected it to the pumper truck. There were no hydrants here, so we had to use what we brought. The guys had taken a couple hoses around the left side of the house to stop the fire from getting to the mobile home. It would go up in no time flat if it caught fire. I was sticking to the chief like his shadow and he was managing the water supply. Then I noticed some flames coming from the right side of the house.
The chief agreed that it needed a two front approach, so he grabbed another two inch hose and laid it down. He told me to unroll it in the direction of the fire and he would grab the nozzle. The hose was plenty long enough to reach behind the house so I doubled it back some so it wouldn’t get caught up in the fire.
The chief gave me the nozzle and told me to bring it to the end of the hose and he would be there in a minute to set it up. When I got back behind the house, the fire was spreading pretty quickly. I attached the nozzle and signaled to the chief that it was ready. Another firefighter was there with him and he responded. I wasn’t sure what he said but I was standing there holding the nozzle about ten feet from the fire. The guy working with the chief must have assumed I knew what I was doing. He charged the line with a bit too much pressure and this previously limp firehose suddenly became a very rigid two inch pole. It flung me forward into the fire but also upward. I was a few feet off the ground and not feeling like I had super powers. I opened the nozzle sole to relieve the pressure a little, but didn’t want to come crashing down into the fire either.
About that time, I felt the hose bouncing and pulling. Two guys were walking the hose down and pulling me back away from the fire. One of them took the nozzle from me and pointed me back to the chief. “We’ve got this one, kid.”
With my hands (and really my entire body) shaking like a leaf, I made it back to the chief and asked what happened. He said one of the other guys had assumed I wanted the line charged and he opened the valve. My adrenaline was through the roof and the chief told me to go sit in the passenger seat of the tanker truck to calm down. I stayed there quite a while and they managed to complete terminate the fire.
Once we got back to the station, the chief called for a debrief. A few things had gone wrong and the new kid was almost hurt, but mostly it was a good fire. Not a typical first day as a volunteer fireman, but all was well. I stayed on and trained with them for several months before refocusing my attention elsewhere. I’d seen enough to know I didn’t want to always be a firefighter. I’d also seen enough to know those guys are serious supermen.