I had been in the fire service for two years. As a firefighter with a company responding to well over 300 calls a year at the time, and training once during every week and most weekends, I was slowly becoming pretty good at this, I thought. I kept it in my head, however, that you can never stop learning, especially in this field. There would always be a scenario we could be faced with which we didn't think of, and we would have to know how to handle it. For this reason, we took pride in our training. At one point, I became part of the training officers. It became a challenge to design a training session that would really test our guys, or provide a good beneficial refresher on previously learned skills.
We found ourselves training on ladders, whether it was throwing ladders at the firehouse, or travelling to a commercial building in our area to do some ladder work to its roof; we travelled to an old mill building one Tuesday night, laddered the building, ascended to the roof, and practiced rapelling down to the ground. It may sound extreme, but it was something we might be required to do in an emergency, and that wasn't the time to realize we didn't know what to do. One by one, each of us put the harness around our waists, tied off to an anchor point on the roof, and with the guidance of the crew, slowly lowered ourselves over the edge of the building. If done correctly, we would walk down the wall until we reached the ground. Since this was new to some, and just rusty to others, it didn't always go as planned.
I was part of the crew on the roof at one point when we readied a firefighter to go over the edge. His feet were positioned on the edge facing the roof, the rope was secured to his harness and everything was in place for the operation. As we gave the rope some slack, he bagan to lean back over the edge. As he became level with the roof level, he was supposed to start taking steps down the outside wall. Instead, the firefighter never moved his feet, but we never stopped lowering the rest of his body. As a result, the next thing we see are two fire boots shooting straight up in the air, the rest of him hidden below the roof level.
I always took training seriously. I had it in my head, as a member of a Rescue Company, that no mater what problem or situation a person can themselves into, we had to be the one's to know how to get them out. If they got stuck in an elevator, we had to get them out. If they were stuck on a roof, we had to get them off. If they were stuck in a hole, we had to get them out. If they got stuck on the side of a building, we had to get them off. If they were stuck under a vehicle or in a machine... it was us they would call to get them out. As a result, I wanted all of the training I could get. Between 1982 and 1984, most weekends for me were spent at the Delaware State Fire School, attending a series of fire schools. Beginning with Firefighting I, through Firefighting III, Strategy and Tactics, Staff and Command, Pump School, Vehicle Rescue, Basic and Advanced Firefighting and more. Back home during the week, I would attend a variety of different schools and classes accumulating a binder filled with Fire and Rescue certificates.
My intention for attending so many classes was simply to be prepared. It was a dangerous job, and I wanted to know as much about it as I could. My father always said, "Whatever you choose to do, strive to be the best at it as you can.." He didn't care if I was a trash man or a rocket scientist, he just wanted me to do my best at it. And this is what I was trying to do.
It was late 1983 when I first realized all of this training and preparation would really be noticed, and actually benefit me somehow. It was something I never expected, and hadn't really thought about too much at all. I had been hanging out at the station one day when the Chief called back to the TV room and asked me to come into the office. I walked in and saw him sitting at his desk, and took a seat at the empty desk across the room. I can't remember the preamble and bantering that we always did together, but my volunteer fire service career took a dramatic turn with one sentence...
"How would you like to be my Lieutenant next year?"
The Chief's words simply stunned me. I had never in a million years would have guessed he would choose me to be one of his fire officers. I guess I was too busy preparing for it that I didn't even see what I was preparing for. My response was hesitant and stuttering. I actually asked why he wouldn't pick someone else, and he actually argued in my favor. Well, I thought, if even the Chief has an argument why I should be Lieutenant, who am I to disagree? But I did have to question it. Would I be a good leader? Would I be able to be in charge at fire calls, or be able to lead a firefighting or rescue crew? And more importantly to me, would the firefighters respect me as their officer?
Well, I went ahead with it and decided to go find out.
A few weeks later, in mid December, the fire company held their yearly election of officers. We had to vote each year for the Chief and President, among other administrative positions, and then the Chief appointed his staff. Fortunately, the Chief who wanted me as his Lieutenant, won the election. That New Years Day, I took office for the first time, and was handed my first white helmet as Fire Lieutenant.
The Chief and President were standing at the podium saying their thank you's, and acknowledging all of the good work we had been doing over the past year. Finally, they were going to announce the award recipients and we could get back to the open bar. Awards given out during this event included Fireman of The Year, President's Award, Chief's Award. Highest Runner, etc. The Fireman of the Year Award was voted on by the firefighters, while the others were chosen by the Chief or the President.
We only half listened to their comments and introductions of special guests in attendance, and continued to drink and enjoy the company of our girlfriends and brother firefighters.
We paused the whispered conversations as the Chief walked to the podium with the Fireman of the Year plaque in his hand. Once again, I don't recall the preliminary comments, but the introduction of the winner will forever be etched in my mind...
"...this year's Fireman of the Year Award goes to.... Pat Finucane..."
The room erupted into applause, as all of the blood drained from my head and legs. I became lightheaded, and my legs were weak. I instantly recalled the day I was in an assembly at Coebourn Elementary School. We had been gathered one day in late May to present our Athletic Awards, and to my complete surprise, they called my name to come up for a T-shirt. I will never forget the feeling in my legs as I stood and walked to the stage.
At the Fire Company Banquet, many years later, that feeling came back once again. It almost felt as though people could see my legs wobbling, but I don't think they could. I shook hands with the Chief and President, turned to the applauding crowd and nodded in appreciation. There wasn't a word I could think of to say, so I just stared at the plaque with my name engraved upon it, and carried it back to my table, before I passed out.
Once I took my seat again, my girlfriend leaned over and gave me a hug, my friends nearby all congratulated me. I just sat in shock staring at the plaque, still in disbelief, and could feel my eyes tearing up. Fortunately, nobody witnessed the "Fireman of the Year" crying, and soon we were back to our mission at hand, getting drunk. And, after being handed this award, I was taking my mission seriously.
The night went on with drinking and eating and some dancing. In the midst of the dancing, the Chief made his way to various tables and I could tell he was up to something. He wasn't just mingling, he was organizing something. Finally, he made his way over to our table.
"Hey Pat, at midnight I need you to meet me downstairs for a few minutes."
The request had me very curious. What else could this night bring? Maybe the Chief had special gifts for his officers? Was he the type of Chief who would call a meeting on Banquet night? I slowed the pace on the drinking just in case it was something important.
An hour later, as the hands on the clock stood straight up, I noticed the other officers leaving their tables and heading for the exit. I leaned over to my girlfriend and explained I would be back in a few minutes, and meandered through the dance floor and slipped out the exit.
Downstairs, the Chief led us through the TV room and into the engine bays. I stood in the group that included all of the officers the Chief appointed just a few monts ago, including his Deputy Chief, the Assistant Chief, the Captain and a couple engineers. We gathered behind the two pumpers which sat quietly for the night while we partied upstairs. The Chief sttod with his back to the trucks and addressed his officers...
"I want everyone to take a look at this," he said pointing toward the diamond plated back step. "No matter what you do this year, I want you all to remember where we all started. Never forget where we came from..."
Initially, his words didn't really hit home with me, I just thought it was him being dramatic again. However, those words stuck with me for the rest of my time in the fire service. If there is anything I will remember of that Chief, its those words.
He was right. As I progressed through the years, and climbed the ranks higher and higher, remembering where we came from became very important. I rememberd how it felt to walk into the firehouse for the first time as a firefighter; I remember the feeling the frist time the siren blew for my first call; I remember my first emergency response hanging on to the handrail and standing on the diamond plate, watching the yellow line and black top fly by underneath me; and I remember the feeling the first time we pulled up outside a house with smoke pouring from it's windows.
That one statement, during a pause in the festivities, definitely helped me every day since, helping guide the newer guys coming up through the ranks. I can only hope that it also helped me become a leader who others looked up to, respected and maybe even learned something from.
As things would turn out, my officership in 1984 would be the first of five officerships I would hold over the years, including Lieutenant, Captain, Assistant Chief, Deputy Chief and Fire Marshal. In my 28 years in the fire service, I would hold a fire officer position for over half of that time. Still, I remember the day I was asked to be Lieutenant for the first time, like it was yesterday, and I am just as honored and thankful today as the day I agreed to give it a try.
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