BY MICHAEL N. CIAMPO
Approaching the U-shaped building, we saw nothing showing on arrival. Walking into the “throat” of the U, we noticed that there were two separate entrances, one for each wing, and that each had its own stairwell. Notifying the roof firefighter of this fact allowed him to take the opposite wing’s stairway to the roof instead of relying on the adjoining building (crossing over at the front to avoid any open-ended air and light shafts), the aerial, the tower ladder, the portable ladder, or a fire escape with roof access.
Luckily for us, as we approached the courtyard, the building’s wings had an identification sign posted on the exterior, informing us of the location of Apartment 5C. The sign listed four apartments per wing, and the C line was in the A wing. [Note: When fire departments respond to a multiple-wing building, they identify the wings starting at the left with the letter “A” and proceed right (“B”, “C”, and “D”).]
Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor, we had no indication of anything abnormal and didn’t smell any burning odors. We knocked forcefully on the reported apartment door in case the tenants were sleeping. We got no answer. After calling the chief on the radio to ascertain from the dispatcher the caller’s location or additional information, we knocked on a few of the surrounding doors. Again, we got no response.
As we waited for the dispatcher’s reply, a tenant came running up the stairs out of breath, yelling, “There’s a fire in that apartment; I can see the flames from across the alley from my apartment.” Since there was no odor of smoke or other indication of a fire in the apartment, we asked him if it looked like a candle and he said, “NO!”
Since it was almost midnight and we had a credible source reporting a fire, we began to force the door. We noticed that there were three locks on the door, and two were protected by a guard, so we decided to go with conventional forcible entry, forgoing the through-the-lock method. One firefighter suggested using an adjoining apartment’s fire escape and coming through the window, but at night I always fear that shots might be fired, so I’d rather take the door.
When the irons team forced the door open, we were all in shock: Heavy, acrid, black smoke was lingering about three feet off the floor and four feet into the apartment; all visibility was lost. Lying on the floor trying to get a layout of the apartment and the number of door frames, we picked up a glow of orange in the first room on the right. As we attempted to relay the information to the chief over the radio, we suddenly couldn’t speak and were gasping for air out in the public hallway. Frantically, we grabbed for our self-contained breathing apparatus (SCBA) face pieces; our throats felt as if we had swallowed razor blades. Out of nowhere, while operating in a clear environment, we suddenly found ourselves gasping for fresh air. How could this have happened so rapidly?
Attempting to notify the chief of our predicament, our vocal cords couldn’t clearly communicate the situation over the radio until we got on air. Hearing the raspy preliminary report of smoke in the apartment through the face piece, he ordered a line to be stretched.
As we regrouped and made sure we were all okay to proceed, we entered the apartment after relaying to all members that they should don their SCBAs before arriving on the fire floor. Crawling under the thermal layers of smoke to the glow in the first room, we spotted the fire. On the stovetop, we could see orange, blue, and green flames. One firefighter quickly shut the burner and went to grab the pan of burning food. He noticed that the pan was burnt through and melted to the stovetop. Since the debris on the stovetop looked as if there may have been some oil in the pan, he looked for a lid instead of hitting it with the pressurized water can. We couldn’t find a lid; we used a large empty pot that was nearby to cover the pan, eliminating the air and smothering the fire.
While all this was occurring, the company’s carbon monoxide meter was vibrating, blinking, and sounding its audible warning. The high readings on the meter told us that the poisonous smoke could be lethal and an aggressive search and ventilation of the apartment were necessary. Since the fire was extinguished, we opened the windows for ventilation as we searched. Reaching the back bedroom in zero visibility, we followed a wall and ran straight into a king-size bed. Sweeping it from the edge didn’t reveal anything, but once we crawled onto it, we felt a motionless body. We transmitted this information to the chief and shook the victim; again, no movement. Quickly, we pulled him out of bed and into the public hallway, where first-aid measures revived him.
We were all surprised by the situation and how quickly the poisonous gases and smoke had us gasping for air. Luckily, we investigated what occurred and learned what Teflon flu was all about (http://bit.ly/QIEElR) and the value of wearing your mask. Fortunately, we were able to save a life; that is truly a gift we give every day.
For related video, go to (http://bcove.me/bfg4p0br)
MICHAEL N. CIAMPO is a 28-year veteran of the fire service and a lieutenant in the Fire Department of New York. Previously, he served with the District of Columbia Fire Department. He has a bachelor’s degree in fire science from John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City. He is the lead instructor for the FDIC Truck Essentials H.O.T. program. He wrote the Ladder chapter and co-authored the Ventilation chapter for Fire Engineering’s Handbook for Firefighter I and II (Fire Engineering, 2009) and is featured in “Training Minutes” truck company videos on www.FireEngineering.com.
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