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Some of the men that gathered at the fire hall after a long training session had been in the fire service for twenty five, maybe thirty years and had been through the same training hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. As the men spoke of several issues that were on their minds, the war stories began to flow amongst them.
I had the feeling that even though each and every one of them had something different to say about the issues on hand and each one of them had a different view on each, that if a pager had gone off, there would have been a stampede toward the nearest piece of fire apparatus. It's an inborn spirit, one of them muttered. You can't teach it, you just have to have the sense of duty. That duty may include jumping out of bed in the middle of the night to answer someone's call for help while the snow whips at supersonic speeds, creating temperatures cold enough to freeze a polar bear solid. But as the men continued to speak, as the stories grew longer, I could see the problem they, we had was that of apathy. "The younger generations of today have too many distractions, too many events that swallow up their time. They don't seem to have the spirit of volunteerism they once had," one gentleman croaked. It has become a serious problem for volunteer firefighters to deal with. There are 19 local fire departments in Wyoming County, all of them being 100 percent volunteer. In recent months the older, more seasoned veterans of the local fire department have noticed a big change in the big three emergency groups in which they belong: Hazardous Materials Team, Rope Rescue Team and my very own fire department. This change is the lack of good help. Well, maybe it is not all about help and has a little to do with family life or enthusiasm, but it seems that the number of people that show up to work details, training or demonstrations for the public has decreased dramatically. The ones that do show up are usually dripping with sweat, faces soiled with grime from a long day at the job. Then they make the thirty minute drive up to Wethersfield Springs in a journey that parallels the Iditarod Sled Dog race in Alaska, probably would get better traction with a team of yapping hounds pulling your ride. Not to mention the training center locale mimics the outpost on top of Mount Everest. Cold, damp and remote as one could imagine. All this to sharpen their skills that may one day help the neighbors they swore to protect. Then at around eleven o'clock in the evening, it is back home to their families which they have not seen in over 18 hours, a quick shower, some cold supper and off to bed to prepare for another day's work.
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