Craig Arnone

The weekend of December 7, 1996 was a cold one in New England. An unexpectedly nasty storm blanketed the entire region with heavy, wet snow. In Somers, CT, the local fire department responded to a house fire caused by a downed power line.

Before the night was over, FF/EMT Craig M. Arnone would be dead from electrocution.

There were investigations, allegations, and eventually lawsuits. What remains is the indisputable physical fact that FF Arnone came into contact with an energized 23,000 volt power line and was killed instantly.

At my fiance’s home in NH that Sunday morning, I was punched in the gut by one other indisputable fact: FF Craig Arnone was 23, two years younger than I.

His would be the first Line of Duty funeral I would attend. There have been other tragedies since – Worcester Cold Storage, Black Sunday, September 11, Boston Lts. Minehan and Kelley, a score of others – but none would affect me this way. Firefighter Arnone reminded me that I’m mortal.

There were numerous lessons to be taken from the tragedy; lessons involving Incident Command, communications, procedures for dealing with electricity and the power company, procedures for dealing with severe weather. For me, there was one major personal lesson: today could be The Day.

I don’t live for it; I don’t look for it; I don’t cower in fear of it. God willing, it won’t happen. I take reasonable precautions and try to keep safety in mind. I also never leave for shift or a call without kissing my wife and daughter goodbye. If it happens, I want their memories of my last contact to be loving ones.

This month, the Backstep Firefighter  is entertaining the subject “Influential Fire Reports.” I was going to let it pass, but then I realized this incident affects me every day. Go on over there to see what others have found influential, and then drop by Happy Medic’s place for some advice on preparing for the unthinkable.

(Unfortunately I was unable to locate a link to the report on this incident. Google and Bing produce lots of news articles and casual mentions, but the full investigation is lost to me. It matters not.)

Peace

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The full moon blazes across the ocean in front of us, bathing everything in cool white light. High tide caresses the sea wall; the stairs end directly in seawater. Small waves whisper against the concrete. The radio murmurs, Favorite Dispatcher directing a flurry of activity.

We are the last line of defense, balanced on the cusp between Sin City and the Eastern Front.

The Powerstroke purrs, its diesel din somehow muted by the cool spring night. Regular Partner snores softly in the passenger seat, as the occaisional car drifts slowly past. I can see the lights of the Big City skyline in the middle distance.

Peace.

The low hum of the stereo is barely distinguishable as music. Strangely the heater begins to cycle, alternately blowing warm and cool breezes onto my hands.

Attention Medic 9. . .”

One 911 call could shatter it all.

Medic 9, you are clear for quarters.”

But not tonight.

Seashore Re-Qual (P365 – April 24)

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Beth went with me to Seashore for the annual Requalification.  I’m now certified to drive streetcars at the museum for another year.

Beth was very well-behaved.  After the proceedings and a few trolley rides, we wandered around the bus yard.  She was very fascinated, especially by this old Twin Coach bendy-bus.  More photos are here and a few videos on the STM page on Facebook.

Sadie’s Pool (P365 – April 23)

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Beth and I went for a picnic on the Cotton Valley Rail Trail today.  She really did have fun, but just wouldn’t smile for the camera.  My batteries were dying, so I couldn’t make extra attempts.  We did about 16 miles in the railcar, and it was a good opportunity to road test some recent adjustments.  All went well, and the rain held off until we were off the rails.

Horse Ambulance (P365 – 4/21)

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On the way to work I passed the MSPCA/Nevins Farm Equine Ambulance at Dunkin Donuts.  (But not my Dunkin Donuts.)  This is their new, smaller rig.

My co-workers snicker at the concept of a horse ambulance, but I’ve trained with these guys and they are great.  They specialize in injured sport horses, and they carry all sorts of custom equipment for moving a downed horse to a veterinary hospital.  (It’s harder than it sounds.)

I’ve no idea what they were doing in my corner of the world at 0600, but it didn’t seem to be an emergency.