A bit of reality
Ronald E. Kanterman
Chief of Fire Protection
Merck & Company
Rahway, New Jersey
I`ve been there so many times before. Each trip starts the same. Pull into the campus and check in at Building C. Register. Unpack. Head for the National Fallen Firefighters Memorial across campus.
I approached the memorial with the same sadness and apprehension I usually do. You know what I mean–your gut churns a little, but you go anyway because it`s the right thing to do. You have to pay your respects to those in the service who have come and gone. As I hit the head of the path, I notice that the flags that fly behind the monument are at half-staff. Another firefighter gone. The glass-covered lectern has not one notice of death but two. Two firefighters in opposite parts of the country who never met have made the supreme sacrifice and now meet in Emmitsburg. How ironic–the papers say they both died of heart attacks. My chest starts to pound at the very thought of having a heart attack. I move up the path to the monument in silent prayer. The eternal flame at the base of the monument gives a low roar from the stiff evening breeze. It`s raining, too, just like in the movies. The rain always seems to lend itself to the sadness of these occasions.
I start my usual rounds at 1983 (the first stone with a list) and read each name. Then 1984, 1985, 1986 … and then 1996. It jumps off the stone as if lit up in neon. Under NEW JERSEY, the first name listed is Leslie G. Hendricks. All my previous trips to the memorial were suddenly different from this one. I knew about the others and I knew of the others, but I really never knew any of the others. I knew Les Hendricks.
Les and I met many times at meetings of the Union County Fire Chiefs Association. A quiet man. A gentleman`s gentleman. A firefighter`s firefighter. A man who loved his family and the fire service. He loved his fire service for 35 years and was loved back. I stared in disbelief–I knew someone listed on the stone. A name matched to a face, a person, a personality. As my religious belief dictates, I pick up a small pebble and place it on the memorial stone to signify that someone was there to visit. Others leave flowers or flags.
I left the memorial a bit sadder than usual and headed for Mother Seton`s tomb. The National Fire Academy and the grounds never cease to amaze me, for I find something new each time I visit. Something to learn, something to see. As I approach her tomb in the brick-enclosed cemetery, I find three monuments where three girls are buried–ages 13, 16, and 17–who passed sometime in the mid-1800s. I can imagine the pain of the parents at the time.
We pulled out Sunday afternoon to head home. My thoughts were jumbled between the rekindling of old friendships, the young girls who lie next to Mother Seton`s tomb, and Deputy Chief Les Hendricks of Union Township.
For those of you who have friends and family listed on the stones at the National Fallen Firefighters Memorial, I wish you strength and courage when you visit. For those of you who have yet to visit and see the name you know, it`s a bit of reality.
