Press Room

Aldermen learn what it's like to be a firefighter

By PETE HOLLEY, Staff Writer

Being a politician, Alderman Sam Shropshire, D-Ward 7, is well acquainted with "being on the hot seat," "feeling the heat," and "jumping from the frying pan into the fire."

On Tuesday night however, those hoary old cliches became frighteningly literal.

Flanked by fellow aldermen Julie Stankivic, I-Ward 6, and David Cordle, R-Ward 5, Mr. Shropshire was the latest lawmaker to venture into the blackened confines of the Anne Arundel County Fire Training Academy in Millersville with local firefighters.

Crouched beneath a blazing river of 1,000-degree flames, his rubber goggles beginning to melt, the tips of his ears starting to singe and smoke rising off his shoulders, Mr. Shropshire murmured one simple question, his voice muffled by a thick plastic mask.

"I can feel my ears burning," he said, tapping an instructor on the shoulder. "Is that OK?"

As if burning ears weren't enough, fire officials subjected lawmakers to the same bevy of brutal conditions new recruits face, giving all three aldermen a new-found appreciation for the rigors of firefighting and the bravery of the individuals who choose the profession.

The exercise was organized by Mr. Cordle, a former volunteer firefighter with Anne Arundel County and the current chairman of the public safety committee.

"I think the important thing is that they see what exactly the firefighters go through," Mr. Cordle said. "We think we know what they go through, but when the call goes out it's a different story."

By showing aldermen sophisticated thermal imagers, scuba gear and other expensive equipment in action, the exercises also gave firefighters a compelling opportunity to lobby lawmakers for upgrades.

"If you expect us to respond in a reasonable amount of time and put the fires out, then we need the tools," Capt. Joseph F. Martin, a city fire spokesman said. "If we call and tell you we need a truck, it's not going to be put on the mantle."

The aldermen started at city headquarters where they were fitted for a thick, bright-yellow fire suit and clunky, rubber boots. Brand new, the entire quilt-like outfit, designed to withstand temperatures up to 1,500 degrees, cost about $2,600.

After a quick briefing on safety and equipment, the council members boarded a fire engine and rode to the county training facility, where they were confronted by their next challenge, a blackened concrete box that bore a closer resemblance to a three-story oven.

As thick black smoke poured from the building's steel windows, aldermen strapped on a bulky 50-pound oxygen tank and a cumbersome face mask, which quickly filled with condensation in the cold night air, making sight a near impossibility.

"If you get in trouble with your breathing tank we're going to yank you out," explained Capt. Scott Baer. "You will not be able to see in this building, you will have to rely on your senses."

Inching forward on their hands and knees in pitch blackness, their sense of touch muted by thick gloves, the unsettling sound of muffled voices and short panicked breaths their only guide, it didn't take long for aldermen to realize there weren't many senses left to rely on.

Crawling toward a clearing in the thick, black smoke, they entered a small, claustrophobic room lined with heat-absorbing tiles similar to the those used on the space shuttle. Barely able to see, their peripheral vision completely gone, the lawmakers watched helplessly as several shadowy figures tossed a large bundle of thin paper-like material onto a tiny fire smoldering in the corner.

Within seconds, the puny blaze exploded into a terrifying wave of orange flames, racing up the wall and furiously rolling across the ceiling, transforming the cramped space in a cauldron of searing flames.

When the temperature climbed over 1,000 degrees goggles began to melt, jackets began to smoke and aldermen slumped to the ground attempting to avoid the painfully hot air from above, which was several hundred degrees hotter. Just when it seemed the blaze had the upper hand and the exercise was spiraling into chaos, city firefighters unleashed a thick stream of cold water ending the fire's reign within seconds.

Hot and humbled, aldermen crawled out of the building the same way they came in, only to return several minutes later to sift through several smoky rooms in search of a 175-pound dummy with the help of a $10,000 thermal imaging system.

Sweaty, tired and blind, beneath the thick veil of black smoke, even the smallest task, such as finding a doorway or communicating with invisible instructors only a few feet away became a grueling challenge, where success was measured inch by frustrating inch.

"Now think about crawling into a burning house not knowing where you're going, you don't know how long it's been burning or if the floor is about to collapse under you," Rick Butler, a battalion chief said afterward. "There's a lot of scary things that go through our minds."

As they stood outside the building admiring their soot-stained suits, panting, with water bottles in hand several minutes later, aldermen called the experience invaluable.

"Every alderman should come out and have to do this," said Ms. Stankivic. "It really makes me wonder if we are paying our firefighters enough."

Published March 01, 2006, The Capital, Annapolis, Md.
Copyright © 2006 The Capital, Annapolis, Md.