Show your support for freedom and democracy
CLICK HERE

"FIREFIGHTERS Who We Are"
http://www.geocities.com/firefighters911/whoweare.html




When I am called to duty, God
Where the flames may rage
Give me strength to save some life
Whatever be its age.
Help me embrace a little child
Before its to late
Or save an older person from that horror of that fate;
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out.
I want to fill my calling and To give the best in me,
To guard my neighbor and protect his property.
And if according to my fate I am to lose my life,
Please bless me with your protecting hand
My children and my wife.


The Eagles In The Air
http://www.geocities.com/wfth_songs/EaglesInTheAir.html

A Firefighter's Gloves

A Firefighters Gloves hold many things,
From elderly arms to a kids broken swing,
From the hands they shake and the backs they pat,
To the tiny claw marks of another treed cat.

At 2 am they are filled with the chrome,
From the DWI who was on her way home.
And the equipment they use to roll back the dash,
From a family of 6 she involved in the crash.

The brush rakes in Spring wear the palms out,
When the wind does a "90" to fill them with doubt.
The thumb of the glove wipes the sweat from the brow,
Of the face of a firefighter who mutters "What now"!

They hold inch and three quarters flowing one seventy five,
So the ones going in, come back out alive.
When the regulator goes; then there isn't too much,
But the bypass valve they eagerly clutch.

The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C-collars;
The lives that they save never measured in dollars,
Are the obvious things firefighters gloves hold,
Or, so that is what I've been always told.

But there are other things Firefighters Gloves touch,
Those are the things we all need so much.
They hold back the rage on that 3 am call,
They hold in the fear when your lost in a hall,
They hold back the pity, agony, sorrow.
They hold in the desire to "Do it tomorrow".

A glove is just a glove till it's on firefighter,
Who work all day long just to pull an all-nighter.
And into the foray they charge without fear,
At the sound of a "Help" they think that they hear.

When firefighters' hands go into the glove,
It's a firefighter who always fills it with love.
Sometimes the sorrow is too much to bear,
And it seeps the glove and burns deep "in there".

Off come the gloves when the call is done,
And into the pocket until the next run.
The hands become lonely and cold for a bit,
And shake just a little thinking of it.

And we sit there so red eyed with our gloves in their coats,
The tears come so fast that the furniture floats.
We're not so brave now; our hands we can't hide,
I guess it just means that we're human inside.

And though some are paid and others are not,
The gloves feel the same when it's cold or it's hot.
To someone you're helping to just get along,
When you fill them with love, you always feel strong.

And so when I go on my final big ride,
I hope to have my gloves by my side,
To show to St. Peter at that heavenly gate.
Cause as everyone knows, FIREFIGHTERS DO NOT WAIT!



FIREFIGHTER'S Memorial, Prayer and Poems
http://www.geocities.com/wfthpoetry/FirefightersMemorial.html

May They Not Be Forgotten
James McNulty, FDNY (retired)

"Brother when you weep for me,
Remember that it was meant to be.
Lay me down and when you leave,
Remember I'll be at your sleeve.

In every dark and choking hall,
I'll be there as you slowly crawl.
On every roof in driving snow,
I'll hold your coat and you will know.

In cellars hot with searing heat,
At windows where a gate you meet,
In closets where young children hide,
You know I'll be at your side.

The house from which I now respond
Is overstaffed with heroes gone.
Men who answered one last bell
Did the job and did it well.

As firemen, we understand
That death's a card dealt in our hand --
A card we hope we never play,
But one we hold there anyway.

That card is something we ignore,
As we crawl across a weakened floor.
For we know that we're the only prayer
For anyone that might be there.

So remember, as you wipe your tears,
The joy I knew throughout the years.
As I did the job I loved to do,
I pray that thought will see you through."






MY SON CHOSE THIS CAREER, A FIREMAN
HE KNEW THAT AS A COP, I DIDN'T WANT HIM ON THE JOB
INSTEAD HE CHOSE TO HELP OTHERS AS A FIREMAN
A BRAVE AND STEADFAST CAREER
MY HEART GOES OUT TO ALL THE BRAVE MEN AND WOMEN
WHO DON THE UNIFORM, BOTH DAY AND NIGHT
TO FIGHT THE FIRES, AND KEEP US ALL SAFE LONG INTO THE NIGHT
GOB BLESS EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU
BE CAREFUL, BE SAFE, AND COME HOME TONIGHT
AND FOR THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS
THAT DIED THAT DAY
I SAY
GOD HAS YOU NOW, AND YOUR AT PEACE
YOU PAID YOUR DUES IN EVERYWAY
WE LOVE YOU



Angels of Mercy
"I Wish You Could Walk In My Shoes"

I wish you could see the sadness of a business
man as his livelihood goes up in flames, or that family
returning home, only to find their house and belongings
damaged or lost for good.


I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning
bedroom for trapped children, flames rolling above your head,
your palms and knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging
under your weight as the kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 a.m. as
I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none.
I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing
intuitively it is too late, but wanting his wife and family to know
everything possible was done to try to save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation,
the taste of soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat
through your turnout gear, the sound of flames crackling, the
eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense
smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish you could understand how it feels to go to work in
the morning after having spent most of the night, hot and
soaking wet at a multiple alarm fire.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire
"Is this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building
constructed? What hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?"
Or to an EMS call, "What is wrong > with the patient?
Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress
or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor
pronounces dead the beautiful five-year old girl that I have
been trying to save during the past 25 minutes, who will never
go on her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy" again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of
the engine or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot
pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and
again at the air horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way
at an intersection or in traffic. When you need us however,
your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you
forever to get here!"


I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate
a girl of teenage years from the remains of her automobile.
"What if this was my sister, my girlfriend or a friend?
What were her parents reaction going to be when they opened
the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back
door and greet my parents and family, not having the heart
to tell them that I nearly did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and
sometimes physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as
they express their attitudes of "It will never happen to me"

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and
mental drain or missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social
activities, in addition to all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction
of helping save a life or of preserving someone's property,
or being able to be there in time of crisis, or creating order
from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have
a little boy tugging at your arm and asking, "Is Mommy okay?"
Not even being able to look in his eyes without tears from
your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have to hold
back a long time friend who watches his buddy having rescue
breathing done on him as they take him away in the ambulance.
You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A
sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never
truly understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what
our job really means to us...

Author: T.G.Truman

.......APPRECIATE AND SUPPORT THE LOCAL FIREFIGHTERS & EMS
WORKERS (whether they are volunteers or paid) IN YOUR AREA,
ONE DAY THEY'LL PROBABLY BE SAVING YOUR PROPERTY OR
YOUR OWN LIFE......