HARRY R. CARTER, Ph.D., MIFireE

I have devoted a great part of my life’s work to the process of learning. I have spent the better part of my 34 years in the fire service gathering more knowledge about how to do the many aspects of my job. Perhaps this penchant for learning came about as a result of the emphasis my parents placed on learning, or perhaps it was some great reserve of inner strength.

There is also the possibility that successful people in my hometown created an atmosphere where success was seen in terms of the acquisition of knowledge. Over the years I have often thanked a number of my high school teachers for the role they played in my life. You would be surprised how few people take the time to say thank you to critical people in their lives.

There have also been role models that inspired me to continue my quest to learn as much as I could about the fire protection field. Most like Martin Grimes, and Bill Clark, have gone on to their reward. Some, like Alan Brunacini of the Phoenix Fire Department and Deputy Chief Vincent Dunn, recently retired from the New York City Fire Department, and the great Frank Brannigan, are still at work leading and motivating.

In reality, it is probably some combination of all the above influences. But I would like to share a story about what I feel is an integral part of my success as a fire service person.

Along the way, I have accumulated a wide range of experiences. Thanks to my time in the U.S. Air Force (Uncle Sam Airlines), I was able to learn my trade at one of the finest fire fighting schools in the whole wide world. I spent some really productive time at the U.S.A.F. Firefighting School, which in the far-away days of 1966 was located at Chanute Air Force Base in Illinois. The same agency allowed me to hone my firefighting skills from the Arctic region of Alaska, to the steamy climes of Vietnam and the Philippine Islands. Oh, and they also sent me to Arkansas.

It was during the first 18 months of my career, which I spent near Fairbanks, Alaska, that I received an early appreciation for that combination of experience, colored with education. The Superintendent of the Eielson Air Force Base Fire Department back in those times was Chief Master Sergeant Joseph Haider, a man known throughout the Air Force.

A long-time firefighting veteran, Chief Haider had probably long-since forgotten more than many of his contemporaries had ever bothered to learn. He was a stickler for discipline and a firm believer in the gathering of knowledge. He had a carrot and stick approach to making sure that we all progressed through the On-the-Job (OJT) Training program used by the Air Force at that time. During my time, I felt both the carrot and the stick.

A number of us who graduated together from the Firefighting School were sent to Alaska back in the late fall and early winter of 1966. When we young lads arrived at Eielson from fire school, we were classified as school-trained apprentice fire protection specialists (3-level for you old USAF types out there). As was the practice at Eielson, we were immediately enrolled in the OJT program with the goal being to reach our journeyman skill-level as quickly as possible.

The carrot Chief Haider used in motivating us was the granting of our Kelly Day (extra day off). We worked a 72-hour shift schedule, 24 hours on and 24 hours off. The Kelly Day was an extra shift of time off granted every two weeks. This allowed for a three-day break from our station duties. As a motivational tool, he would not allow us to have the Kelly Day until we upgraded to the higher skill level. He had the solid backing of our squadron commander, a crusty World War II veteran, so the carrot and the stick were one in the same, time off.

While this may seem like a harsh treatment to the members of today’s younger generation, it really had a strong motivational impact, particularly for the married first-term personnel who had to commute from Fairbanks every day. No living quarters were available for them on base, so if they wanted to bring their wives up to live with them, they had to rent in town. These men would be on the road every day, going one way or the other, regardless of the weather, which, as you might imagine, ran the gamut from bad to worse during the winter months. So, as you might imagine, the three-day break was a tremendously valuable commodity.

All of us in the December 1966 arrival group made the upgrade to our 5-level in minimal time. And then most of us made our first promotion soon thereafter, also in minimal time. This did not seem odd at that time, because each of us was going through the same positive experience. It was just the way things were for us. I personally thought nothing of making Sergeant in less than two years, because so many of us did it together.

Little did we know at the time just how important this positive, goals-oriented environment would be to our future success. It was not until later, when I moved to other air bases and ran into buddies who had served at other stations, that the value of Chief Haider’s method began to make sense.

Some base fire departments apparently did not follow the strict letter of the law in running their OJT programs. Where I had a trainer assigned to me who constantly rode herd on my learning experience, friends at other places did not. I would meet guys a number of years later that never got their sergeant’s stripes, because of the learning experience at the air base where they happened to be stationed.

In addition to the strict OJT program, we had an ongoing, year-round drill program. We tied knots until our fingers tired, raised ladders until our backs screamed, and laid the hose time and again. And you can imagine how difficult this might have been during the winter months that ran from September through May. This early exposure to a system of educational excellence and training discipline set the stage for my decades-long service as both a career and volunteer firefighter.

In hindsight, it would appear that I was blessed with an assignment to the frozen hinterlands of Alaska. During the 32 years since I departed the Fairbanks area, I have run into acquaintances from my Eielson days. Many remained in the fire service, rising to Chief officer level in a variety of departments. And each spoke of the indoctrination we received in the training and education end of the fire service.

I was actually able to thank Chief Haider for his efforts a number of years ago. It was at the Fire Department Instructor’s Conference in Memphis back in 1978. I had just been promoted to Captain in Newark, and bumped into Chief Haider as I made my way through the convention hall. I went up to him and was pleased to find out that he remembered me. It was just a quick thank you, but it was a very sincere thank you none-the-less.

I offer the following to you for your consideration. Thirty years from now, will someone remember the impact you had on their life and fire service career today? I am fairly certain that Chief Haider didn’t come to work with that thought on his mind during any given day. He just knew what it took to train fire people. He did his job and he did it very well.

My good friend, Bill Killen, Director of Fire Protection recently told me that Chief Haider had finally retired from a post U.S. Air Force career as a civilian U.S. Navy Fire Chief. I can be fairly certain that he kept up his emphasis on the importance of training until the day he stepped out of the fire station at the end of his last day of service. He just impressed me as being that kind of a guy.

Now I know that it is very difficult for some of you to maintain a good spirit about your fire department. The horror stories from many of you keep churning out of my computer. As I have stated on many occasions, you cannot influence how another person treats you. But you can have complete control over how you approach your career. Train hard and set a good example. Maybe some of the people that you come in contact will be affected by your zeal in pursuit of excellence.

I urge you each to take the time to bring one person over to the knowledge side of the street. It may be tough, and you may take heat from the slackers around you, but the rewards are many. You can take pride in a job done well, and more than that, a job done safely. If I can be remembered for one thing, let it be that I cared deeply about the professional standards of the fire service, and that I worked hard to live up to the expectations of those who trained me.

Remember, fire fighting is a life and death undertaking. Knowledge can make the difference between a productive career and a line of duty funeral. Work hard, train hard, and study diligently. As the old safety commercial used to say, "… the life you save may be your own."

Have a good retirement Chief Haider, wherever you may be.

The commentary in this column does not necessarily reflect those of Firehouse.Com, Firehouse Magazine, their employees or parent company Cygnus Business Media. Harry R. Carter, Ph.D., MIFireE, is an internationally known municipal fire protection consultant and contributing editor to Firehouse Magazine. He recently retired as a Battalion Commander with the Newark, New Jersey Fire Department. His commentary appears regularly on Firehouse.Com. For more commentary and information, visit Carter's web site at www.harrycarter.com Harry has published several books available for online ordering, including Firefighting Strategy and Tactics and Management in the Fire Service