FATAL FIRE: A CASE FOR ADULT EDUCATION
How many more deaths will it take before we spread our fire prevention message
to all members of society?
If you’ve spent some time in the fire service, the following incident may sound all too familiar. It’s December 22, and our thoughts are of the upcoming holidays. A call comes in of a house fire. We remember that it’s — 10°F outside and pull on extra sweatshirts. Before getting into the cab, we’ve already mentally driven to the address. It’s about three miles away and we’re first truck in.
About halfway there, we see smoke. Then dispatch calls to say that two kids are trapped in the house.
Many thoughts begin running through my mind. Where are they? How long have they been trapped? What kind of house is it? I think about my own kids.
As we pull up we see that it’s a single bilevel house. The front door is wide open and heavy smoke is pouring out. There are only two of us on the truck today. I position the truck, set the pump, and jump out.
A woman and a young boy plead for us to save the kids still inside. A police officer next to them comes toward me as I pull the 1 ¾-inch line. He tells me that the kids are upstairs. My partner is at the front door, so I charge the line.
“Where upstairs?” I ask.
“In the back right bedroom,” the officer replies.
The house needs to be vented, so I grab a pike pole and vent the front, side, and back windows. Heavy smoke continues to pour out. I go back around to the front to get a ladder. Engine 1 arrives.
The first firefighter off is already tanked up and goes in to back up my partner. E-l’s lieutenant helps me grab the ladder and we head for the back. As soon as it is in place another firefighter heads up the ladder.
I worry now about my water supply, so I go back around to the front. The driver from E-l has already laid a supply line to my truck and I help him hook it up.
I notice that the ambulance has arrived. The attendants head for the back of the house.
Then my partner comes out of the house. Taking off his mask, he tells me that they have the kids—took them out the window and down the ladder. Most of the fire is out as well.
An ambulance attendant runs out with one of the kids and a firefighter has the other. He still has his tank on, so I run to the ambulance, jump in, and take over for him. In my initial checks I see that I have a little girl about 4 or 5 years old. She’s not breathing, so I ventilate; she has no pulse, so 1 start compressions. She’s covered with soot, and her eyes appear dilated and fixed. Come on kid, I think, and wonder how long they were trapped before we got them out.
I glance at the ambulance attendant, one of our firefighters who works for the ambulance on his days off, as he works on the other kid. “I’ve got a pulse but no respirations,” he says. I’hc victim appears to be a little boy, and he is covered with soot as well.
I do my checks again—still nothing—and continue CPR. Come on kid, respond. Do something, anything. Soon we’re at the hospital.
Walking out of the emergency room, I notice some of the hospital staff looking at me. One of them asks about the kids. “Not good,” is my reply.
The ambulance attendants come out of the emergency room and tell me they’re returning to the fire scene because someone there is suffering from smoke inhalation. They don’t know if it’s a firefighter or not.
FIRE PREMION
FATAL FIRE: A CASE FOR ADULT EDUCATION
On the ride back, I wonder how the fire started. What could we have done differently? Better? Quicker? Then the “what ifs” begin. I rerun our actions over and over in my head.
What went wrong? As with all fires, our actions could have been a little different, but 1 feel that the outcome would have remained the same. From the time of our arrival until the ambulance was en route to the hospital, less than eight minutes had elapsed.
The fire took its toll: The 12-yearold was admitted to the hospital for smoke inhalation. The 4-year-old girl died two days after the fire. The 3year-old boy was transferred out of town to a pediatric intensive care unit, where he remained for about three months; he’s now at home and, happily, he is making an excellent recovery.
TRAGIC FLAWS
When I pieced the story of the fire together, several factors that contributed to this tragedy stuck in my mind.
The house was a typical rectangular-shaped bilevel home. Its main and only entrance was on the left front. Immediately upon entering you either went to the upper or lower level. The upstairs was the main living area, which contained the living room, kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms. The lower level was made into three bedrooms, a laundry, and a storage area.
There were five family members: the mother; two sons, ages 12 and 3; and two daughters, ages 7 and 4.
So what happened? While the mother was downstairs doing laundry, the kids were all upstairs. The two youngest were evidently playing with either matches or a lighter in the front room. The mother heard a commotion and came up to find the couch on fire. She yelled at the kids to get outside and then attempted to put the fire out. Only the 7-year-old girl left. Who knows why the rest didn’t— possibly because of the bitter cold weather or they were just too scared.
The mother then attempted to drag the couch out of the house, only to drop it by the top of the stairs. She then grabbed the phone and dialed 911 but hung up without saying anything. After a few moments she realized what she had done and redialed 911, this time telling her problem and giving her address.
At this time a neighbor, notified by the 7-year-old daughter, came over and tried to help the mother move the couch. They had to drop it—by now it had become fully involved—and in doing so blocked the stairwell, with them downstairs and the kids upstairs. The little ones ran into their bedroom, while the 12-year-old opened the window above the kitchen sink and jumped out.
The mother and neighbor ran to the back of the house and pleaded with the kids to break the window and jump. They wouldn’t and soon were no longer seen at the window.
So what went wrong? The answer is simple: The kids didn’t get out of the house and the call to the fire department was delayed. The real question should be, Why didn’t events happen the way they were supposed to? Fire education is partly to blame.
Every year we talk to grade-school kids—what they’re supposed to do in a fire or what they should do if they catch on fire. We go over operation EDITH and show them the friendly monster. We leave pamphlets and coloring books as reminders of what we’ve said.
Throughout the year we visit nursing homes, senior citizens centers, and other elderly gatherings, essentially going over the same ideas. Here is our problem: A lot of people fall between these age groups. Maybe we think that these adults and teenagers should know what to do. But do they? Who told them? With some adult fire education, would the outcome of the incident have been different?
Parents are constantly being reminded to talk with their kids about drugs and sex. Have they been reminded to talk about fire? Have they actually practiced EDITH? Who has told them about how fast carbon monoxide can affect your thinking, or how fast a fire can spread? What a difference that few-minute delay can make.
Is your department presently addressing PTAs, churches, clubs, auxiliaries, and other organizations? Our department will be instituting a program to target these groups at very little cost other than our time. I hope yours already has or will consider doing so.
At this time our city is making a study and acquiring cost estimates on upgrading to an enhanced 911 system. This version immediately displays the address as well as the phone number of whoever calls, thus saving delays in dispatch. For us that time will someday save a life.
It should be noted that both kids were found in the same bedroom. The door had been left open. Had it been shut their chances would have improved greatly. Unfortunately, nobody told them that.
