Memories of Minerva

[DavidI]

Sometimes my best is not good enough. I have never publicly told this story before.

I never met her. I never saw her. I never heard her voice...until the fire. Twenty-four years ago today, I was on patrol working the graveyard shift. The night had been cold and crisp. My son had been born two weeks prior and I had wanted to spend Christmas with him and my three-year-old daughter, but in this job holidays with the family are rare.

The call came out about 6:00 am. A man had called the station to report his house was on fire and people were trapped inside. I was not far from the house and saw the rising plume of black smoke from the distance. Its menacing black tentacles reached skyward at least 75 feet. Black smoke means a live fire; white smoke usually means it is being extinguished. Further information came in that the house fire was caused by a Christmas tree. This was the day after Christmas and my thoughts were home with my young wife, 3-year-old daughter and my son, born just 2 weeks prior. I drove to the home with my siren blaring, my overhead lights casting an eerie Christmas theme, and my tires screeching. I could not drive any faster; the police car would not let me.

When I arrived at the home, it was fully engulfed. It was an older house constructed of mostly wood and had white craftsman supports for the small porch. Flames ripped through the now-broken windows with quick dragon-quick licks, and tar-black smoke poured from every opening. The roar was louder than anything I remember.

There was a male adult wearing only his underwear running back and forth screaming, "My mother! She and the kids are inside!" I could not believe the overwhelming sense of despondency and despair I was witnessing. His voice was animalistic with pain and grief. I ran from my police car to the back door of the residence, a duplex. To my surprise, I found a fireman in his full fire suit, minus his respirator, standing near the open rear door. I was confused because there was no fire engine outside, I was sure of it! He stood there just looking at me. I pushed him out of the way and looked into the mouth of this raging fire. If you know me, I have little patience when something life-threatening is occurring. A strength and weakness is that I move without hesitation; in some cases very well and in others, not so much. The screaming male was going berzerk screaming about his mother.

I did not make a decision to enter the home or not. I just entered. I got down on my hands and knees, and using my flashlight to illuminate my path, entered the house. My senses were immediately overloaded. The acrid, burnt smell filled my nostrils. The flesh on my ears was burning. I looked toward the ceiling and saw angry, crimson red flames roiling across the ceiling similar to ocean waves. I lost all sense of direction but knew I had to save the trapped people. As I crawled across the living room floor, I could not see two feet ahead of me. I crawled across a hallway and found a woman laying on her back. Her head faced me, and because I was crawling so low to avoid the flames, only an inch separated her face from mine. She was burnt....burnt bad! Her facial skin had fried ink black. Her hair was singed and missing. Her face was contorted in excruciating pain....and the smell of burnt flesh. It is something you never forget.

I wrapped my arms underneath her armpits and across her chest and attempted to drag her back out of the house. Her skin from her arms released from the underlying muscle into my hands. It was as if her arms had been skinned! I looked at the crispy, gooey woman's skin in my arms and could not comprehend what happened. I would later learn this condition is called "sleeved." The heat was overwhelming and I had lost my sense of direction. I again placed my arms underneath her armpits, this time my hands gripped my own uniform. Laboriously, I inched my way back the route I had entered. When I was about five feet from the doorway, it felt like a vacuum suction of air was pulling me back into the fire. I could not think. I was confused. I kept pulling. I finally made it out the doorway with the woman and drug her onto some nearby grass.

I looked around, but did not see the fireman! He was still inside! I rushed back into the fire, this time anger filled me. Why hadn't he followed me out? He had all the protective gear and all I had was a uniform! I found him laying on his side coughing thick black junk out. I grabbed him by his fire jacked and dragged him out of the home. I was absolutely furious with him because he should have done the rescue! He was wearing the fire gear, not me! He was trained to battle fires, not me!

I went back to the woman who I had pulled out and I could not believe what I was seeing. Her arms had very little skin on them and had burst open, somewhat like when you overcook hotdogs. Her pink underlying muscles were every shade of burnt and thick blood oozed from her ears.

Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive! I began performing CPR on her for what felt like was hours, but it was merely minutes. Her breath smelled and tasted......burnt. Additional firemen arrived and relieved me of performing CPR on her. One looked me dead in the eye with a look of disgust on his face. He reached out and peeled the woman's burnt lips from mine. My world started spinning and the next thing I knew, I was on a gurney with many concerned faces staring down at me. I tore the IV from my arm and had to be restrained by my partners because I wanted to go back into the house!

Minerva was her name. She was burnt over 60% of her body with third-degree burns. She lived for five more days until she succumbed. Two additional adults within the home died inside. I went to Minerva's funeral and apologized to her for not being able to save her.

I learned the fireman was a reserve fireman on his way to volunteer at his firehouse. He saw the fire, put on his firesuit, and waited for additional personnel.

I was awarded some medals and called a "hero." I did not feel like a hero. I felt hollow. I wished I had been there sooner so I could have saved them.

A newspaper reporter contacted me for an interview the next day. I did not want to talk about it. I was still in shock. He asked me what I thought about the incident. I told him that I was stupid for not getting there sooner to save them. That mother****er printed my quote in the newspaper!!!

On that day, my best was not good enough. Like every other December 26th, I have a shot of whisky and say a prayer to Minerva's memory.

No condolences, accolades, or anything wanted or needed. I simply keep Minerva's memory alive.

[pwd72s]

Bless all who protect and serve....sad they can't always protect.

[john70t]

So difficult sometimes to remember the unsung heroes walk among us.
Thank you for your service.

[dan79brooklyn]

Damn. What a story. Hard memories to live with I take it.
Christmas tree fires are scary. I keep our tree well away from heat source and only use LED lights.
What else should be done to prevent them?
I imagine watering the tree well and ?

[Laneco]

Holy crap David.... I don't even know what else to say...

I'll hoist one for Minerva myself...and one for you.

angela

[Geary]

Respect. You've certainly got mine, David ..

[E38Driver]

You really should write a book about your experiences.

You are a true hero wether you want to believe it or not. Major respect to you sir.

Dave

[A930Rocket]

Great memories/stories. Thanks for sharing.

[masraum]

Very sad, that a joyous time for the family (and you) is now tainted by the memory of such an occurrence.

My son in law just completed fireman training school. He's getting ready to do EMT, and then will hopefully have a gig by next summer. He was telling me about some of the training and how they are directed to crawl because the air near the floor can be a reasonable temp while the air at head height can be hundreds or more degrees so that even their safety gear won't help.

[Tobra]

This is like some of the stories my wife would tell me when she would get home from working in the ER. She needed to vent, and I sure as heck did not want to hear about that stuff, especially involving little kids. When the smell of something was on her from work, she would be dropping clothes in the entry and hopping in the downstairs shower.

She said she did it because she was good at it, and someone had to. Amazing how much bad schiff happens to people.

[Seahawk]

I can do many things, David, have turned into the wind a number of times and launched.

But fire, what you did? I am in awe of the courage that took because I simply don't have it.

Please write more of your experiences. I find them inspiring.

[unclebilly]

You sir are a true hero.