The Glass Inferno

CHAPTER 40

It was the first major fire for rookie David Lencho and despite the smoke and the frequently broiling heat, there was a perversely exciting quality to it. The fire had become a personal enemy to Lencho, a kind of fiery dragon whose existence had cast him in the role of St. George. He was on the nob of the two-and-a-half-inch hose, fighting his way down the corridor of the seventeenth floor. Directly behind him were two more hosemen, one of them Mark Fuchs, the chief’s son. He knew that Fuchs, too, felt the same kind of excitement.

Crouching down to avoid the layers of heat the ceiling, he slowly worked the nob back and forth, spraying the hall directly ahead of him with’ a heavy stream of water under high pressure. He wore his helmet reversed so that the long brim normally in back would protect his face from radiant heat when he kept his head down.

Visibility was poor but he could tell where the fire was by the heat.

A dozen feet behind him a secondary hose team was playing a spray of water over him and the other members of the advance team. Half the time he felt like a drowned rat or, at the very least, one that was in hot water-and occasionally scalding steam when the water from the hose struck a really hot spot.

He edged a few feet closer to the beast, glanced back briefly at Fuchs and laughed in his excitement. Fuchs returned it as Lencho crept another foot farther toward the blaze. He would-be good for about ten minutes up front and then he would have to be replaced. But that was enough for him to feel that he had gotten in his own personal licks against the fire.

He adjusted the spray on the nozzle slightly and played it over the ceiling, watching the tile Turn black and pieces of it scatter under the ‘force of the stream. Water rivulets coursed down his face from the cooling back spray. -There was a particular satisfaction in fighting fires, and a definite pleasure in working with men he respected. The men with him on the hose team he especially liked: Jenkins, the third man on the team, and Mark Fuchs, the son of the chief, would normally be on the nob in a tight situation like this but had traded with him a few minutes before to give him the experience. Fuchs was his own age and they had gone to school together. A year after Fuchs had joined the department, so had he.

Somewhere along the line Fuchs had managed to get married and now had a small son. Lencho laughed to himself. Where the hell had Fuchs found the time? He supposed one day he would settle down With a nice Jewish girl. He’d have to talk to his mother about that; she had more time to look around for one than he did.

The nob almost got away from him again and Fuchs yelled, “Watch what the hell you’re doing, Dave!” Lencho nodded, his smile gone. The hose was delivering more than 250 gallons of water a minute at a tip pressure of better than fifty pounds per square inch. It took three men to handle a two-and-a-half-inch hose and if they lost control of it, the heavy brass nozzle could whip around and brain a man.

Forty feet ahead he could make out the warped door of the utility room where the fire was supposed to have started. On his left and to the rear, the charred remains of Today’s Interiors still smoldered, although the major portion of the fire was out. Suddenly a piece of tile fell from the ceiling and landed on his gloved hand. He jerked his hand back in a reflex action; the hose sprayed erratically around the corridor walls as Fuchs and Jenkins fought it. Lencho lunged for the nob, caught it, and the three of them brought it back under control.

Fuchs leaned forward and shouted in his ear. “Do me a favor and don’t let it go again, okay, Dave?”

Lencho nodded. He peeled away his cloth-asbestos glove and glanced down at his hand. The place where the tile had hit was raising a blister the size of a half dollar.

It’d hurt for a week, he thought.- The fire was not quite so exciting any more. His face felt burned and raw and his nose was leaking mucus and his lungs had started to ache. He coughed and tried to edge’ farther forward again, making a few inches before his muscles gave out.

He suddenly felt a tap on his back and a voice shouted in his ear: “Okay, guy, you’ve had enough!”

The relief crew took over as he, Fuchs, and Jenkins dropped back to the landing. Chief Infantino was waiting for him there.

“You all right, Lencho?” It was the lead man that usually bore the brunt of it.

“Got my hand fried a bit; it’s okay.”

“Let’s see it.”

Lencho held it out; Infantino glanced at it professionally.

“Okay, go to first aid in the lobby and get it covered.”

“It’ll keep.”

“So it can get infected and keep you out for a N instead of a few minutes? Go to the first aid and get it covered, Lencho.

That’s an order. I’ll let you know when we start giving medals for being dumb.”

. Lencho reddened. “I’ll go, right down, sir. Be back in a few minutes.”

“Not here you won’t.”

Lencho stopped. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been beat more than you might think; you need a longer rest than just a few minutes. Send you back in right away and you wouldn’t last half as long as you did the first time.” Infantino’s voice turned grim. “I heard that you lost control of the nob twice, endangering the men you were with. You’ve a brave man, Lencho, and You’ve got lots of energy-but it’s a case of too much engine and not enough steering wheel. Knocking down a fire takes more than courage, it takes brains as well.”

“It won’t happen again, sir.” Lencho felt like crying.

“You bet your ass it won’t; I won’t let it.”’ Wanting eyed him for a moment, then partially relented. “When you get it taken care of, report to Captain Miller on sixteen. Get a pulldown hook and you and Fuchs help the crew down there check the halls. The main fire’s out down there ‘ but they’ll be looking for flare-ups.”

“Yes sir.” Lencho felt like he had just flunked his orals.

He turned for a last look down the corridor and said, “It looks like it’s darkening down.”

Infantino nodded. “With half the lake poured on it, I should hope so”. Lencho started down the steps to the fifteenth floor and the elevator for the lobby. It had been fun while it lasted, he thought.