Just In For The Day
By Captain Tom Siragusa San Francisco Fire Department
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have held onto this “article” since the event, not thinking I would ever share it, but time has led me to believe that sharing this may help anyone who wants that move up in the Fire Service.
Friday, December 12,1997, was a day like many others. I was detailed to Battalion 10 as an acting battalion chief. In San Francisco, we call it “Like-Work/Like-Pay. Like-Work/ Like-Pay has me detailed to the higher rank of battalion chief, using the most recent promotional list. When a vacancy occurs at a higher rank, the department uses the promotional list to fill the vacant spot on a daily basis. I would obviously prefer to have the permanent appointment, but this is an invaluable way of learning the position, understanding the rank and learning through experience. I have been fortunate lately, as an acting battalion chief, catching some good working fires. One of the chief’s aides I have worked within the last few months teases me about the work we are going to get. I have fun, love and enjoy it.
I am the captain of Truck Company 7 in San Francisco’s Mission district. The “Mission” is one of the most difficult areas of the city for truck work, with narrow alleys, overhead wires, hills, and wood frame buildings built right next to each other. I was at a conference earlier this year where the “expert” commented that a truck company officer isn’t worth his weight in salt unless he gets a four-sided view of a building at a working incident. Come to San Francisco. It is usually impossible to get four sides. I am lucky to get an unobstructed view of the front. This is a fun challenge and with a good crew, anything is possible. Often, laddering exposure buildings and bringing ladders aloft is the only way to ladder and vent the fire building. I enjoy watching the reaction of out-of-town firefighters when they observe the building conditions we are faced with. I love it.
December 12th started out like many days do, with paperwork held over for someone to finish, tasks left waiting for someone to jump on. Just being “in for the day” was a thorn to many regular battalion chiefs and officers in the department. When you are off-duty, such as on vacation or your regular day off, you shudder, anticipating coming back to work knowing someone “just in for the day” let many of your tasks go unfinished, ignored, or done incorrectly. Because of a staffing shortage, 30 to 40 positions are filled on a daily basis using acting officers or chiefs. I like to think I am different. I attempt to accomplish as much as possible, but let’s face it – it is difficult walking into someone else’s office, doing his job. Why finish his task that could have been done when he was there last watch. I don’t know where I am going with this, just a little background.
My chief’s aide for the day is Ben Rowan. Ben is a 25-year veteran of the department. This is his regular assignment. He has his schedule for the day, and I have mine. We try to meld them together, accomplishing as much as possible, as early as possible. I am having a meeting with the two other captains of Station Seven this day. We will be moving back into Station Seven next week after a sixteen- month earthquake retrofit/remodel. There are plenty of loose ends to deal with. I missed the morning division meeting with Assistant Chief Ken Arthur. Chief Arthur is a 35-year veteran of the SFFD. I look forward to discussions with Ken because he brings his experience to every subject covered. His stubbornness to change is what we all need in this time of rapid change in the Fire Service. His traditional approach to firefighting is credible. Been there. Done that. I enjoy showing up at the Command Post, receiving an assignment from him, usually a tough order with clear instruction.
Ben and I make it through the day with a couple of nuisance runs, but accomplish our various tasks. We work on making some new templates on the computer to make our life easier when filling out reports. It’s an average day so far…“just in for the day.”
At 2330 hours we are “special called” by Engine 25 to an auto accident on 3rd Street. The acting lieutenant at Engine 25 is Tom Costello. Tom normally works with me at Truck 7 as a firefighter. He performed well on the last promotional list for lieutenant, and had been detailed as an acting lieutenant for 6 months. I helped Tom when he was studying. I tried to influence Tom as much as possible to start using contemporary terminology on his test. It has carried over to the real thing, and he is doing a great job. First-in at a fire two months ago, he was teased because he gave an awesome initial radio report. He described the building, what was burning, and announced he was in “the fast attack mode.” You could hear the laughter throughout the department. I went to that fire and defended him and his enthusiasm.
The accident I respond to on 3rd Street is a passenger vehicle crashed into the side of a gasoline tanker. The car missed the tank by inches, hitting the tractor duals just below the diesel tank. With Truck 9 on the scene, we use the Jaws and stabilize the victim inside the car. The incident goes well; unfortunately, the victim is pronounced dead at the hospital. This was the second time I have seen Tom today. I had seen him earlier when visiting the stations in the district. I asked him how married life was. He was just married in July. He told me he would be off to Europe for a honeymoon later this month. All seemed good. We were both “just in for the day.”
Ben and I get back to the firehouse around 0030 hours. Reports are done and I am thinking about how nice it would be to have a quiet night. My 9-year-old had a 9:00 a.m. basketball game. My wife coached the team, so she needed help with our 7- and 3-year- old sons. If I could get early relief in the morning, I could make it home in time to help my wife. I am having trouble getting to sleep. Strange quarters. Strange sounds. I never sleep well at work. I always make up scenarios in my head. What would I do if this happened, if that happened? It is an every-night ritual with me. I guess I take this job pretty seriously.
At 0131 hours, I am awakened by the tones. It is a full box. The dispatcher is talking really fast. I can tell by his voice it is a worker. “Box 6556, reported address 140 Westpoint, cross of Middlepoint, units due Engines 25, 9 and 17, Truck 9 and Battalion 10. Reported as fire in the building, possibly people trapped on the top floor.”
“Just in for the day . . . .”
I’m down the pole in a flash. The dispatch slip is handed to me. The engine is out the door ahead of us. They’re quick. At the intersection of Jerrold and Quint, the railroad-crossing arm is stuck in the down position. I had reported it earlier, after the 3rd Street call. It had not been fixed. It did not slow us down. About 45 seconds later, Engine 17 reports “smoke showing.” Lt. Banning is on Engine 17. A good company officer at one of the busiest companies in town. I am glad Ed is working.
Ten seconds later, Tom Costello reports a “working fire.” He is not on scene yet, but sees the glow from his approach at the bottom of Middlepoint. A short while later, Engine 25 goes on the scene, with Engine 17 reporting a “ working fire in a three-story, type-5 building, fire on the top floor. Urgent! Give me a second alarm!” Good radio report. I have a sense of what we are facing. A second alarm will bring an additional four engines, two trucks, a battalion chief and an assistant chief. I comment to Chief’s Aide Rowen that they (the working fires) seem to follow me everywhere.
“Just in for the day . . . .”
We arrive on scene about one minute after Engine 25. We park downhill and out of the way of responding resources. A second alarm has been pulled, so I put on my SCBA, knowing that when the assistant chief shows up, I will be going inside. We are around a slight curve in the road, and downhill. I see the glow and the column, but I can not assess the situation very well at this point. I am on the fireground tactical channel, but I do not hear any radio traffic. I walk up the hill towards the incident.
From this moment on the whole event is a surreal experience. Everything is in slow motion. “This is not happening to me.” “It can’t be as it appears.” Those thoughts I have at night while lying in bed are happening for real.
“Just in for the day . . . .”
The building is a three-story, type-5 structure, built into a hillside. There is a walkway leading up to the building. It is about 75 to 100 feet up stairs and to this pathway. The first floor is one-story apartments with entrances on the “A” Alpha side of the building. There are four apartments on the first floor. The second and third floors of the building are made up of four, two-story apartments, with entrances on the “C” Charlie side of the building. I am not familiar with this particular building. I do not know the layout. “The Building is Your Enemy. Know Your Enemy.” Where have I heard that before?
There is heavy fire showing on the top two floors: horizontal flame lengths of 15–20 feet on the “A” side of the building, blowing out two windows. My first thought is, “Tom made a good call requesting a second alarm. We were going to need the resources”. I instruct Ben to get above and give me a progress report. I know the companies up above have their hands full. I have poor vision of the fire. The street layout is making it difficult to get a better look. Having Ben makes that easier. I anticipate a report soon.
There is now a neighborhood crowd of probably 50–75 people in front of the building. Several police vehicles are blocking access to the area. I hear cries from the crowd, “Why did it take you so long to get here?” “There are babies in there.” “Why are you walking?” A woman physically attacks me, pounding on my back, exclaiming, “She was just in the window with the baby, why are you walking, you bastards?” I ask a police officer to give me space. I have more resources arriving, and I ask him to see if he could gain some information from bystanders regarding potential victims.
Engines 17 and 25 are positioned right in front of the building. There is a hydrant right in front. A small line (13⁄4-inch) is led up the walkway, and a large line (3-inch) is being led by Engine 17.
Lieutenant Jim Regan of Truck 9, a 25-year department veteran, reports in to me. I assign him to the roof. I am concerned for rapid horizontal extension in the attic space. I need him to cut it off. This place needs vertical ventilation right now so the interior companies could advance. I do not have to tell Jim this, he knows. Off he goes with his crew.
Engine 9, with Acting Captain Gene Rector, reports in to me. I order a small line extended off the small line that is in place. I also need a primary search performed. Now!
Second alarm companies begin to arrive. Acting Lieutenant Gerry Finnit of Truck 17 is the first to arrive on the second alarm. I order Gerry and his crew to advance a second large line with wye to the front of the fire building, go up the walkway and back-up the first crews. Check for extension into exposure “B” Bravo. Gerry, another 25 year plus vet, knows. We are on the same page. Gerry is “just in for the day . . . .”
Battalion Chief Barry Smythe, Battalion 6, arrives. I assign Barry as fire attack. I need information. Crews need direction. Span of Control is being taxed. Barry, a newly appointed battalion chief, knows what is needed.
A paramedic captain reports to me. I assign him as medical group supervisor. I never see him again. Not that I want to, but he vanishes into the haze. I know he is there if needed.
The police officer standing next to me during these last few moments is very patient. I am ordering companies, getting updates, etc. It seems like I have been there for hours, yet I know it is only minutes. The officer then tells me there was a report of ten people in the apartment that is burning, none accounted for. What!? Ten people in this inferno! No way! This can’t be happening to me; I am only “in for the day.” Stop. Fall back on instinct. Training. Yeah, training! Equal Employment Opportunity training? Managing Problem Performance training? “How-To-Get-Along” training? No! Experience! That should work. But I haven’t been here before. Not in this position, Incident commander of a fully involved apartment, with a report of ten people unaccounted for. Instinct.
“Control 3, Westpoint Command, Urgent,Give me a third alarm, two additional ambulances and both rescue squads.” If this is a Mass-Casualty incident, I need the resources.
Companies are reporting in. Engine 37 is waiting for an assignment. I am getting reports from fire- attack. “Making the stairs.” “This isn’t going out.”
Assistant Chief Arthur arrives. He is the handle I have been waiting for. He has been here before, felt the pressure, and handled the crowds. Things are going to get better. Just seeing his face calms me. I tell him what we have, where companies are assigned. The report of ten people is why I requested the third alarm. I am hoping for a Multi-Casualty incident at worst. We are going to need the resources. Ken understands. He orders me up the walkway and he wants me to provide him with information, what’s needed. Rescue 2 is here. Make sure the primary search is performed.
I am back doing what I am comfortable with; operations, hands-on firefighting. We’ll take care of this now. I walk up the pathway. Surrender smoke is darkening this fire on the upper floors. I proceed in the front door and follow the hose leads up the interior stairs. The stairway is narrow. The companies take a beating “making” these stairs. It is still hot, zero visibility. There is still fire in the rear bedroom. As I arrive on the landing at the top of the stairs, BC Barry Smythe is telling Command there are two victims, notify the Coroner. Dammit!
The next few moments are silent. Not a sound but the hum of the engines in front. Then, another victim is discovered in the bathroom. Why? Seconds later, Engine 25 discovers two more. Burned beyond recognition. I am standing in the middle of this. Motionless. Speechless. Command needs to know. Not on the radio. I need to do a face-to-face with Chief Arthur.
The walk out the front door and down the pathway is a walk I will never forget. As I hit the apex, and look down on the crowd of neighbors, firefighters and police officers, I feel an emotion I can’t fully describe. A failure. Yeah. Overwhelmed, sort of. Angry. You bet. And then the sight that I just had seen inside the apartment. Kids. A mother laying over one of them, protecting the child from the blaze and the others so small, burned beyond recognition. As I walk towards the Command Post, my own children, Gabrielle, Tommy and Martin, are my only thoughts. The victims were the same ages, same size. What are my children doing? I need to see them.
As I approach Ken, the sight of the firefighters standing near the Command Post looks blurry. Tears are welling up in my eyes. When I go to tell Ken what we have, the words won’t come out. I am choked up. Chief of Department Robert Demmons and a fire commissioner are at the side of Ken Arthur. I gather the three of them, tell them we have five fatalities, mostly children. I tell them where they were found. We are searching for more.
Ken knows I am upset. The effects of the fire, the neighbors, the cops, the crowd and the scene all seem to fall on my shoulders. I feel responsible. For the fire? No. The crowd. I understand. Time seems to stand still while waiting for assistance. I have had to call the fire department for my son Tommy when he was in respiratory distress. It felt like a long wait.
I go back to the fire building. I lead a thorough secondary search of the apartment. Five victims. Arson Investigator Brendan O’Malley arrives. They are called to every second alarm. I lead Brendan through the structure. He makes it very clear this is now a crime scene. Be careful of what is touched. Limit the number of people in the building. All the things I know, but Brendan is responsible for the investigation. No screw-ups. There have not been this many fire victims at a single incident in San Francisco since a fireworks factory explosion 10 years ago. I was there for that fire also.
The fire is knocked down, under control. It is time to start gathering information.
The crowd is upset with one of the residents standing in front of the building. He lived in the apartment. Why didn’t he rescue them? How did he get out? The police take him into protective custody. Brendan finds out the resident was in the apartment when it caught fire. He claims he fell asleep on the couch, woke up with the couch on fire, and went into the kitchen to get some water to extinguish the fire. He went back to get some more water and when he returned from the kitchen, the fire was out of control.
He walked out the front door, left the door open, and stood outside watching and screaming for the residents to jump. He made no other attempts to rescue them or call for help.
Companies from the initial assignment are released from the scene, and Ken arranges for other companies to come in for overhaul. This makes sense, but I don’t want to leave. Ken suggests we go back to the firehouse, start some paperwork, get a cup of coffee, and return when done. The Fire Department chaplain, Father John Green, is also on the scene. He orders all first alarm companies to Station 9 for Critical Incident Stress Debriefing at 0700 hours. Ben and I go to Station 9 for a cup of coffee and get started on paperwork. I return to the fire scene about 20 minutes later.
Brendan gathers information regarding a 6-month-old child who was in the apartment and is unaccounted for. Although a thorough search had been performed, Brendan suggests a room-by-room meticulous search. I gather the companies together, inform them of what we are looking for and rotate companies through the rooms.
An hour later, at around 0545 hours, the infant is found. The young girl, who was in the window prior to our arrival and holding the infant, apparently had pushed the baby under the bed, wrapped in a blanket. The child was burned beyond recognition. Victim number 6. We are all broken-hearted.
Acting Battalion Chief Bill Bader, from Battalion 9, is sent to the scene to relieve me. I am spent. I have no energy. I do not want to talk about this with the chaplain. I want to go home and spend time with my family. I need to know they are all right. When I arrive back at the firehouse, Father Green is there. Father Green had baptized all of my children, and was a friend. He informs me he has placed me out of service along with the other companies for the CISD. As soon as he says this, a working fire breaks out in the district. I want to go. As I tell Father Green, if you fall off of a horse, you get back on. He wins. I don’t go.
We talk about what we did that morning, what went right and what did not. Some of the firefighters are uncomfortable talking, while others talk plenty. The only thing I feel I need to say is that I couldn’t have asked for better tactics, skill and bravery on the fireground. Operationally, everything went very well. The right hose leads were made, the right ladder placement and ventilation occurred. Companies did what was expected of them and more. This was a fully involved apartment, fifteen hundred square feet of living space. Fire was blowing out of every window, and we made an aggressive interior attack to the seat of the fire, inside firefighting. We were going to give anybody with a chance, just that, a chance to survive.
Friends and co-workers who know what we went through that morning have reminded me that the victims were probably dead before we arrived. This may be true. It does not comfort me. In the initial moments after arriving on the scene I described a surreal scene, and in those moments I hoped for victims rescued, people saved. Winning. Yeah, winning; because I hate to lose. It didn’t happen this time, and it hurts. A lot.
I am writing this three weeks after the incident. I went for a walk this morning, and when I came home I told my wife the only thing I thought about for the last hour was this fire. I cannot get it out of my mind.
What could I have done differently? I haven’t thought of a thing yet, and I guess that is OK. A chief who listened to the tape of the fire told me it sounded as though it went well, that I had done a good job. That helps a little.
I am writing this down in an effort to purge my thoughts, to put them on paper, to release them from my inner sanctum.
Another reason I am writing this, is to get the point across to those of us who take the step towards leadership in the fire service. I feel fortunate because I lived out a boyhood dream of becoming a firefighter. I started as an 18-year-old seasonal firefighter with the California Department of Forestry, and then became a firefighter/paramedic with the San Rafael Fire Department before entering the SFFD, which was my goal. I have attempted to remain contemporary with my fire service education. I am close to my chief officer’s certification. I have done so to maintain an edge. I always knew as I lie in bed at the firehouse at night, making up scenarios, that I could handle plenty. Bring it on.
I was not ready for the emotional price we sometimes have to pay in this business. Never this. I will make it through this difficult time thanks to my wife, children and friends willing to listen to me. My hope is that this will make me a better firefighter, that I could handle this if it were thrown my way again.
For those of you who think this couldn’t happen to you, think again or get out. For those of you “just in for the day,” good luck.
