HARRY R. CARTER, Ph.D., MIFireE

For the past several weeks, we have been dealing with the harsh realities of daily life in the American Fire Service. We have written about teamwork, and we have had talks about warring camps. Folks it is time for a change.

This week, I thought that we could all use a change of pace from my usual strong style of journalism. It is time to return to the days of yesteryear. We step back now to a long ago time and a faraway place. Perhaps we can all learn a lesson from the ancients that lived on this earth long before we ever though of pulling on a set of fire department turnout gear.

Once upon a time there was a young lad who lived in the land of Fightis Firus. It was a dark and stormy land, populated by strong and mighty men and women who wore heavy coats of black and yellow armor. Each carried a whole host of steel tipped swords and rode throughout the Kingdom on shinny chariots adorned in red and silver. They could often be found battling a querulous demon known as the "Red Devil."

History tells us that the proudest possession of these gallant warriors was the ornate leather battle helmet they wore only during times of fierce combat. These proud warriors boasted that there was only one way to battle that mystical beast. They swore an oath that against all odds, they would get close to the "Red Devil" and hurl massive quantities of dihydrogen oxide; a truly magical creation of alchemy.

When not actually engaged in battling the "Red Devil", these mighty warriors sit around large, ornate, round tables that were often awash with tankards of energy restoring grog. They passed the hours between battles by regaling one another with tales of past conquests. And as these evening remembrance sessions wore on, the tales of daring by these gallant knights often grew to epic proportions.

In his youth, the young lad could remember vast throngs of these tough and rowdy stalwarts. And their castles, crammed to the ramparts with all sorts of dazzling weaponry, were great in number and were to be found throughout the kingdom.

Now, it came to pass that the number of their castles began to dwindle. No longer did one see their mighty chariots racing toward the distant pillars of smoke. Nor did anyone in the kingdom seem to find these warrior castles in the usual places or numbers.

This led the young lad to pause for thought. For you see, it had been his childhood dream to join these brave warriors. It caused him such great consternation that he set out on a journey to a nearby warrior's haven in search of the antiphon to his quandary. Approaching the castle, he saw two of these proud warriors cleansing their aged chariot.

Nearing them, he noted they were both much older than they looked from a distance. They greeted the young lad warmly and proceeded to take him on a tour of their castle. The sorry condition of the old structure made the young boy's heart most sad indeed. And the chariot looked horribly neglected.

Wanting to gain knowledge of their dilemma, but not wanting to appear disrespectful, he engaged them both in a polite conversation by speaking of his childhood memories of the brave men who battled the "Red Devil". As he spoke, he noted the eyes of the men began to redden, and he saw a tear fall from the man's eye nearest to him.

Slowly, the proud old warrior began his tale of sadness. In the early years of his membership in the Confraternity of Red Devil Warriors, there was much joy in the hearts of its members. The thrill of the chase was there and the victories were manifold and glorious. However, as time went on, some of the young Red Devil Warriors talked about keeping the "Red Devil" out of their village. These young mavericks grew so bold as to speak of the day when the "Red Devil" would be banished from the kingdom forever.

The older warriors scoffed at these huffy young upstarts. Who could be so bold, they posited, as to spit in the eye of the Red Devil, and live to tell the story? Drive the Red Devil away? Impossible. However, as the years went by, these young upstarts grew to maturity with their battles being fought in such a way as to keep the Red Devil at bay. Rather than combat warriors, they became avoidance warriors.

Citizens could easily tell the difference twixt the two, as the avoidance warriors rode from village to village in special smaller chariots; armed with scrolls and tablets that told the tale of how to avoid the Red Devil. They formed Red Devil Avoidance Leagues and taught the young citizens of the Kingdom skills to keep the Red Devil at bay.

Certain of the young avoidance warriors even gained great repute with their successes. However, others were persecuted by their combat brethren and had to pass their stories along by word of mouth. They became wandering-avoidance program balladeers. One could hear them singing the stories of Red Devil avoidance around their lonely, late-night campfires.

As the years passed by, the old warriors noted, more young warriors split off from the main clan in search of new battles to fight. There were those who claimed to be able to cure people with moss and leeches. And they bound up the wounds of the people as they move through the kingdom.

There were even those noble warriors who spent most of their waking hours cleaning up the untidiness left by releases from transport mechanisms of the day. You could see them out their on the cart paths, shovels in hand, cleaning up the deadly spills left by the horses as they toiled to move the chariots of the commerce class.

The young lad could now see, most clearly, that these proud old men longed for the days of yore. The lad himself felt most sad, for while he still wanted to combat the Red Devil, it seemed that his dream was to never come about. He too began to cry, joining the old warriors in their lament for times past.

Just at that moment, a shining red and white chariot came rolling down the path, and ground to a halt in front of the castle. Out leapt the local district's Supervisory Combination Warrior Leader Person.

"What brings such sorrow to the heart of one so young?" said the handsome supervisory warrior, with the white warrior’s helmet pushed backed slightly on his noble head. He seemed genuinely interested in the young lad’s quandary.

"It has been my life-long dream to join the warriors who gather to combat the Red Devil," sobbed the lad, "but these fine gentlemen tell me that it is hopeless to dream of such a thing. It would seem that all of my dreams for the future have come to naught."

"Pish, tosh," said the noble Warrior District Leader Person. "Pay them no heed, for they know not of what they speak. They are what we now call throw-backs to the days before enlightenment."

The supervisory combination warrior leader went on to explain how things were, now that the Age of Enlightenment had arrived. He spoke of how the seeds of change had been sown in ancient Feenix, during the reign of Alan the Great.

The warrior leader spoke of the new breed of combination warrior person, trained to perform any feat of skill or daring needed to keep the kingdom safe. He spoke of the new vision of what was to be.

The proud leader so thoroughly mesmerized the young lad that he prostrated himself at the feet of this handsome and knowledgeable leader. The young lad then swore his allegiance unto death. He wanted no more of the old days when combat with the Red Devil was king. He wanted to join the new breed. And shortly thereafter, he was apprenticed to the kingdom’s Combination Combat/Avoidance Warrior’s Training School, in a nearby village.

So, what then is the morale to this tall tale? THOSE THAT LIVE BY THE RED DEVIL OF SUPPRESSION-ONLY FIRE DEPARTMENT, WILL DIE IN A SIMILAR FASHION. My years in the City of Newark, New Jersey stand in mute testimony to this story. Where once there were 1128 people in the fire department, there are now around 700.

All across this great land, dedicated men and women struggle to deliver fire protection, emergency medical services, and a whole host of service to their communities. But there is a problem. Far too many people seem to want to hide behind the walls of their castles. There needs to be a greater sharing of knowledge and expertise.

Recent events have shown that we can drop the drawbridges and cross the moats when we want to. But if we are to succeed as a fire service, we must come together on a wide range of complicated issues, and a whole host of simple topics too. We must drop the barriers between our kingdoms and unite for a better future.

I urge you to be progressive. Give your community whatever it takes to keep them safe. Do not dwell in the Kingdom of Fightis Firus.

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