Fester's Fire/Rescue/EMS Page

Fester is a proud member of the Kitty Hawk Volunteer Fire Department.

The Kitty Hawk Volunteer Fire Department

Station 13

Station 13 Apparatus

Engine 13

First Out, First in the crap. First out apparatus for all First Alarms and Traffic Accidents. Has a 1000 gallon capacity tank, extrication equipment, deluge gun, and seating for 8 Firefighters, not including the Driver/Operator.

Engine 13 On Scene

Truck 13

Arial Ladder Truck, includes ladder mounted nozzle. Seating for 4 Firefighters, not including the Driver/Operator.

Engine 132

Our Reserve Engine. Soon to be replaced by the current Engine 13. In February a new Engine will be delivered and put into service.

Reserve Truck 13

Our Utility Van. Holds extra ladders, traffic cones, spare SCBA bottles, a cascade refilling system for the SCBA bottles, and many other equipment items.

Rescue 13

Some of the NOT so finer moments of Fire/Rescue

Dare County EMS returning from a long haul to Virginia. This was their third long haul of the day at about 0300hrs. Driver and passenger both fell asleep and went off the road. Fortunately, there were no injuries in either the squad or the house.

"I Wish You Could See"

I wish you could see the sadness of a business man
as his livelihood goes up in flames, or that family
returning home, only to find their house and
belongings damaged or lost for good.

I wish you could know what it is like to search a
burning bedroom for trapped children, flames rolling
above your head, your palms and knees burning as you
crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the
kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 in
the morning as I check her husband of 40 years for a
pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to
bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late.
But wanting his wife and family to know everything
possible was done to try to save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning
insulation, the taste of soot-filled mucus, the
feeling of intense heat through your turnout gear,
the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being
able to see absolutely nothing in dense
smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish you could understand how it feels to go to
work in the morning after having spent most of the
night, hot and soaking wet at a multiple alarm fire.
I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a
building fire "Is this a false alarm or a working
fire?
How is the building constructed?
What hazards await me?
Is anyone trapped?"
Or to an EMS call,
"What is wrong with the patient?
Is it minor or life-threatening?
Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting
for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

I wish you could be in the emergency room as a
doctor pronounces dead the beautiful five-year old
girl that I have been trying to save during the
past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date
or say the words, "I love you Mommy" again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the
cab of the engine or my personal vehicle, the
driver with his foot pressing down hard on the
pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air
horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at
an intersection or in traffic. When you need us
however, your first comment upon our arrival will
be, "It took you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help
extricate a girl of teenage years from the remains
of her automobile. "What if this was my sister, my
girlfriend or a friend? What were her parents
reaction going to be when they opened the door to
find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the
back door and greet my parents and family, not
having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not
come back from the last call.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people orally, and
sometimes physically, abuse us or belittle what I
do, or as they express their attitudes of "It will
never happen to me."

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and
mental drain or missed meals, lost sleep and forgone
social activities, in addition to all the tragedy my
eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and
self-satisfaction of helping save a life or
preserving someone's property, or being able to be
there in time of crisis, or creating order from
total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to
have a little boy tugging at your arm and asking,
"Is Mommy okay?" Not even being able to look in his
eyes without tears from your own and not knowing
what to say. Or to have to hold back a long time
friend who watches his buddy having rescue breathing
done on him as they take him away in the ambulance.
You know all along he did not have his seat belt on.
A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you
will never truly understand or appreciate who I am,
we are, or what our job really means to us...I wish
you could though.