'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through station
All was quiet except for our snoring dalmation.
Our boots had been placed by the bunksides with care
In hopes that the shift change would finally be here.

The lights were turned down and the TV was off?
The rigs had been washed and the floors had been mopped.
Firemen and Medics lie nestled in bed
While visions of homelife danced through their heads.

When out of the darkness, arose ringing and light
The Klaxton brought tidings of something not right.
The Firemen and Medics were dressed in an instant
Aboard their trucks and racing into the distance.

The moon on the breast of the newfallen snow
Reflected the lights in a hellish, red glow.
The sirens, they wailed while the federal screamed
Moving too slowly, as if in a dream.

The wreckage was there and came slowly in sight
Lending fear, pain, and loss to our silent night.
Each of us thought of our own Wife, Daughter or Son
Each prayed in silence, "Let me save at least one."

We leaped to the task without further a thought
And for more than two hours we worked and we fought...
To free the two drivers who hadn't been thinking
their driving would suffer after a full night of drinking.

The smoke of the flares, and the stench of the blood
The screaming of metal as we rolled back the hood.
The cry of one driver, the whine of the Jaws
Putting fear aside, we never gave pause.

With one driver out, and the other prounounced dead
We focused our efforts on keeping our heads.
C-spine and backboard and IV in place
We loaded him up and we started the race.

The monitor showed a heart rate to slow
BP revealed a systolic too low.
Level of consciousness rapidly dying
Despite all of this...the Medics kept trying.

Atropine, Dopamine, Epi and more...
to keep our reason for being from opening death's door.
We fought and we prayed and tried all that was known
While trying to believe fault wasn't our own.

The sun, she was rising as we reached the ER
We'd given all that we know, and all that we are.
The Doctors pronounced with barely more than a glance.
And gone in a blink, was the patient's last chance.

The ride back to the station was quiet, and then....
Despite what we'd been through, the singing began.
At first it was one and then all followed suit
This effort together was merely the fruit...

Of a labor that however needlessly beared
Was one of a million we knew we had shared.
As we sang out the words of the song, "Silent Night"
We acknowledged to ourselves that we put up a good fight.

The punch of the clock, the start of a car
we all realized and loved who we are.
And on Christmas morning, as we all drive away...
We know we'll all try in a couple of days...

To give someone back their one chance to live
Now matter how hard or how much we must give.
So please, when you pray on this new Christmas morn
Add something for us, and for all that we've borne.

Merry Christmas to all my brothers and sisters in EMS,
Fire and Police. We're all here together, and we all
come back another day. Love you all.
Anonymous

NOTE: This story was actually written for Christmas, but I
feel it represents everyday drinking and driving.

What is a Fireman Poem

He’s the guy next door - a man’s man with the memory
of a little boy. gotten over the excitement of engines and sirens
and danger. He’s a guy like you and me with warts
and worries and unfulfilled dreams. Yet he stands taller than most
of us. He’s a fireman. He puts it all on the line
when the bell rings. A fireman is at once the most fortunate
and the least fortunate of men. He’s a man who saves lives
because he has seen too much death. He’s a gentle man because he
has seen the awesome power of violence out of control. He’s responsive
to a child’s laughter because his arms have held too many small
bodies that will never laugh again. He’s a man who appreciates
the simple pleasures of life - hot coffee held in numb, unbending fingers -
a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling - the camaraderie
of brave men - the divine peace and selfless service of a job
well done in the name of all men. He doesn’t wear buttons
or wave flags or shout obscenities. When he marches, it is to honor
a fallen comrade. He doesn’t preach the brotherhood of man. He lives it.
Author unknown

Fireman's Prayer
When I am called to duty...
Wherever flames may rage...
Give me strength to save some life...
Whatever be its age...
Help me to embrace a little child...
Before it is too late...
Or save an older person from...
The horror of that fate...
Enable me to be alert and...
hear the weakest shout...
And quickly and efficiently...
To put the fire out...
I want to fill my calling and...
To give the best in me...
And if according to my fate...
I am to lose my life...
Please bless with your protecting hand..
My children and my wife.