A breed of their own.

 

Firefighters they are a breed of their own. They work long days and sleep short nights. They go for hours sometimes days on end with only a precious little bit of sleep.

Yet they do their job well and voluntarily.

A firefighter can quit at any time, no one is there looking over our shoulder telling us we canít quit, but we donít quit in spite of that. And when you ask one of us why, there is a pause and then an ďI donít really knowĒ or, ďI canít really put my finger on itĒ. The only way I can describe it is a feeling deep in your gut that you canít ignore, something there telling you that this is what you are here to do.

A group may enter a department for no reason at all, just looking for something to do, but of that group one or two will get their first taste of fire and realize that this is in their heart, and they will do it until they are physically unable to.

Then there are those who grew up with firefighter dads and found something magical about the way he would go off Tuesday and come back Friday with a tired look on his face but with a certain gleam of pride in his eye that told you he loved what he was doing. Or when heíd go off in the middle of the night at the sound of his pager and come back later that day with that same gleam in his eye.  Despite utter exhaustion.

Some say that firemen are just thrill-seekers, looking for a quick rush. Others, those who have experienced them first hand say they are warriors. They come at a moments notice and seem to stare down at the fire; they trample on the dance floor of the devil wearing the boots of god.

These reasons are all merely speculations, nobody will ever know what makes a fireman a fireman, but one thing is for sure, the men who donít abuse the power respect others, and love the job for what it is. They are firemen night and day.

They are the true firemen of the world; they are the public servants and protectors of the innocent.