May-June 2009 Issue

	May-June 2009

What Would We Do Differently Today?

By Dave Karn

Quiet In the Basement

My teaching partner for the day, Jim Wheaton from Engine #2, and I had just completed the first eight hours of our shift helping to teach the “Saving Our Own” portion of the new recruit class at our training academy. As we were walking in the back of the station, Jim, who is on our union executive board, got held up a little while answering some questions about our new contract by some of the other station members. I went on in, reported for duty, put my gear on the rig, checked my SCBA, and then checked our company log to see what we had missed.

Jim and I both like teaching the firefighter rescue portion of the class, but we also like getting back to our own trucks. I had a few things on my mind today and wanted to decompress some before we got busy, so I thought that I would head downstairs for some quiet time. First though, I went to our kitchen, on the first floor of our station, and used the last of the ice in our ice bucket for some ice tea that we always have on hand. With glass in hand, I headed downstairs and parked myself between our second hand washing machine and the ice maker that we use to fill the bucket up stairs. I started to reflect on the activities of the day when I heard Jim come stomping down the stairs, grumbling about the jerk who had used the last of the ice and didn’t fill the bucket back up! I quickly put my hand over the glass so he wouldn’t see it was me!

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “We had a great day putting the new recruits through their paces. We had them a full week, teaching them everything we could about rescuing a downed firefighter. They looked pretty tired at the end of the day. I know that I am! Or are you still worried about what to write for Nuggets?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it,” I said. ”I’m not good at writing at all, and I don’t know what is interesting to other people. But that’s not all of it. This July 25th will be the 22nd anniversary of John Nance’s death. I was just remembering that night, his death, and what we taught these kids today about it. We all hope that we would do a lot of things differently today. It still really bothers me.”

“You, dummy!” Jim said. ”Why don’t you write about that! What would we do differently today?” I started to think. Maybe Jim had a good idea. He knew that this meant a lot to me. With Jim being one of my best friends, I trust him every day on duty. Maybe Jim was right. “Thanks, Jim,” I said, as he walked upstairs with the full ice bucket. Jim looked over his shoulder and smiled, “Next time YOU get the ice!”

The Fire

Anyone who has been around me any length of time, knows that the LODD of John Nance weighs heavily with me. Firefighter John Nance was a 26½-year veteran of the Columbus, Ohio, Division of Fire. He was assigned to Engine Co. #3, at Station #2, in the southern section of downtown Columbus. John was murdered on July 25th, 1987 in an arson fire at 151 N. High Street. John was the senior man of his company, with less than six months to retirement. This meant that any time a chance for riding “out of class,” or in an officer’s position came about, all the others in his station that could fill that spot, gave that chance to John, so his retirement pension could benefit from it. In 1987, this could be for the entire 24 hours.

The first station to arrive at the scene was Station #1, with Engines #9 and #1 and Ladder #1. As per the preplan, Station#1 took the front of the four-story, brick-and-stone building, while Station #2 with Engines #2 and #3, and Ladder #2 took the rear. Battalion 1 and Rescue Co. 2 took the front. The building was big enough that attack lines were run both in the front and the back by the companies. Active fires were found on several floors and these were attacked. John was on his second bottle and searching for additional fires when he fell through a weakened spot on the first floor into the basement. The firefighter who was with John did not fall through and yelled to John as soon as it happened. John yelled back up from the basement that he was alright, but just wanted out of there. John was calm and reassuring to his young partner. This partner spread the word that John had fallen and a rescue effort was started. Some folks left their assigned jobs to help. As the effort was brought together, John stacked debris from the basement floor into a pile that he could climb. He then jumped up as far as he could, and somehow he was even able to grab his partner’s gloved hand. His partner thought that now he was being pulled into the hole, so John let go and fell back down. When John fell through the hole, his arms were forced up over his head by the momentum of going through the floor. The hole was very small. Chain and rotary saws were brought in to try to make the hole bigger. However, the thick smoke coming up from the hole and on the first floor kept choking out the saws. A rope was dropped down to him with a loop in the end, but as he was raised, he fell out. A narrow 16-ft. roof ladder was dropped down to him. John tried climbing up the underside of the ladder (we feel that at this time, the heat exhaustion was affecting him). Once again, John fell to the floor. John’s low-pressure alarm had been going off, and now had stopped ringing. Two smaller framed firefighters were able to get through the tiny hole and call out to him, but all this time, the fire had been growing. Even if they had found him, they would have had a tough time getting him up the narrow ladder and out the hole. The 1½-inch line that they had with them could no longer keep the fire in the basement off of them. Some of the best firefighters in our department were involved in the rescue attempts. However, after all the ideas and efforts that they had at that time did not work, the growing fire just kept gaining momentum. The order was given to evacuate, not once, but several times. No one wanted to leave John! As devastating as it was, the fire drove all the other firefighters from the building, and John died in the basement that night.

John’s body was found the next day, around 11 a.m. He was not very far from the spot that he landed. We feel that he moved around trying to find his way out. He never did just give up! His body was removed by members of Station #2 and taken to our county morgue by a fire department E.M.S. unit. As he was being carried out, one of the rescuers asked the officer in charge of the detail if he wanted him to go back and pick up John’s helmet that had been left. The officer said no, that they would go back later. Just like in the movies, as his body was being put in the medic unit, a wall fell, covering the exact spot his body was found in five feet of debris. Everyone looked at each other. Some got sick, some cried, and others just shook their heads and went off and said a prayer. The arsonist was never found.

Saving Our Own and RIT

Several years after John’s death, I was walking down the hallway of our training academy, and one of our training captains stopped me. He said that he had just received some information from the University of Illinois about a class they were having involving firefighter rescue techniques. We were being told about it as a courtesy because they wanted to use John Nance’s death as an example, and did we want to send anyone? I took one look at the information about the class, and I knew that I wanted to attend. Not only about the subject, but the list of instructors were names of those who had written for many of the prime fire service publications, such as John Norman, Don Hayde, and Sal Marchese from FDNY, Bob and Ray Hoff from Chicago, Rick Lasky, Rick Kolomay, and others. This would turn out to be the first train-the-trainer class of a program called "Saving Our Own."

I didn’t know what to expect as I sat in class the first day, filling out our paperwork. As I was starting to write, John Norman stood up in the front of the class and asked where the guy from Columbus was, and would he meet him in the back of the room! All I could think of was whom I had offended in my hotel bar the night before! I slowly rose and met John in the back of the room. John Norman put me at ease right away. He was, and still is, a true gentleman and a very important leader and lecturer in the American fire service today. He told me that they were going to use the LODD of John Nance as an example, and would it bother me? "Of course not," I said. I was sure that John would want something good to come out of his death. He was that type of person, and we needed to learn as much as we can from it. If new techniques can be found, then so be it. John would have wanted it that way!

The classes were great, and so were the instructors! I had made the right decision. Examples included John Nance from Columbus, Mark Langvardt from Denver, and many others. We learned many new techniques, many statistics, and made many new friends that I still have to this day. I brought back the information and started teaching it in Columbus, first to my station, and then as word got around, to the rest of my department. The next year, the department sent six more people to the class, and today "Saving Our Own" is not only a week-long part of our recruit class but is taught in advanced forms in our officer’s training class and our rescue tech class. Many national speakers teach variations of the class today, but the basic premise has not changed.

Lessons Learned

We could talk all day about the good ideas and techniques that have come about due to the investigations into firefighter deaths and lessons learned from them. In John’s case, several things have changed for us:

In 1987, a person could ride out of class for an entire 24 hour shift. (In Columbus, we work a 24-on, 48-off shift). Today, out of class is only for the first 12 hours. After 2000 hours, if a position calls for a particular rank, then an officer is brought in on overtime to cover that spot. We have it in our contract, due to the fact that we showed that more serious fires happen after 2000 hours.
In 1987, we had no PASS devices of any kind. Today, our new Scotts have their own, as soon as you go on air.
Even if John would have been found, it is doubtful if his rescuers would have been able to get him up the ladder. Today, thanks to John Norman and his rescue crew at the time, we have a handcuff style knot that brings the victims arms back up over their head, to again make them as narrow as possible to get back through a tight hole in the floor.
We, and many others departments as well, have SOP’s in place featuring dedicated RIC, RIT, or FAST teams for rescue needs. Back in 1987, some folks left their fire duties to try and help in John’s rescue. While doing this, the fire grew.
There was little or no support for the families or the other firefighters affected by John’s death. Of his crew, one person left the fire service entirely and teaches school, and two others transferred to very slow stations. Today, our CISM team is known statewide for the good that they do.
All of our people are encouraged to carry at least 40 feet of personal rope and 23 to 25 feet of webbing to help in rescue situations.
Each rescue company and some ladder companies carry electric chainsaws that can cut in smoke filled areas. All of these changes we have now may have made a difference in 1987.

The deaths of John Nance from Columbus, Mark Langvardt from Denver, Oscar Armstrong from Cincinnati, and others are being studied and taught everyday so that we can learn from these tragedies. Whether our message is firefighter rescue, standpipes, engine ops., wildfire, etc., we must keep spreading the word of those who inspire us to do just a little better each time. John Nance would have wanted it this way!!

The handcuff, or Nance knot, is simple, yet effective. Start with a clove hitch in the middle of your line.

Fold the inner loops AGAINST each other.

Pull the loops big enough to pull over a victim’s wrists or feet.

On bare wrists it looks like this.

As you can see above, on this victim with turn-outs, it pulls them back up into a very narrow posture. This was what was needed for John Nance. We wish that we knew about it at the time!

There are many ways to breach an interior wall. This may get you OUT of a bad situation, or into a trapped firefighter or civilian. Many firefighters have died on the bad side of ½-inch dry wall! First, drive a halligan, pro bar, or ax handle down into the wall as far as you can.

RIP the wall down to the floor. Remember to stay low!

Move over a few inches and repeat.

After you have pulled the dry wall or lath away, mule-kick or sit and kick your way through to the other side. You can squeeze between the studs or remove one by striking the bottom and breaking it. You may have to remove your tank to make it through, but DON’T remove your mask. Remember, sometimes breaching a wall will be faster than trying to force a stubborn door.

Several members in Columbus were trapped on the third floor of an apartment building when the burning roof and ceiling collapsed due to the weight of the air conditioning units above. The solid-core door on the apartment swung inward, but not with a foot and a half of burning debris against it. Luckily the brothers in the common hallway heard the MAYDAY and broke their way through the drywall to rescue those trapped before any serious burns were received. The only things lost that day were a handie-talkie and a helmet!

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