When a category F-5 tornado descended on Greensburg, Kan., last May, members of the Mullinville, Kan., Volunteer Fire Department were parked on a dark road just west of town. They had been on storm watch, and they knew something big and awful had passed them in the night.
But they didn't know what had happened to their neighboring town until the crackle of emergency radios told them a tornado had hit Greensburg.
The voices on the radios now told them to wait outside town; it was still too dangerous even for emergency crews. They were told to wait until somebody had a chance to turn off the power grid and shut off gas lines. So they sat in their trucks and waited.
"It was scary because we knew it could be bad, and we didn't know what we would find when we went in," volunteer firefighter C.J. McFadden remembers.
Fifteen minutes later, when they finally drove into Greensburg, none of them was prepared for the devastation and chaos they found.
"We all grew up that night," says Rick Sherer, a newcomer to the Mullinville Volunteer Fire Department.
A VANISHING BREED? Fortunately, tornadoes like the one that hit Greensburg are rare. But in rural communities all across the country, volunteer firefighters respond every day to house fires, grass fires, auto accidents, medical emergencies and less serious things . . . "bats in the attic" as one firefighter describes miscellaneous calls. Nationally, more than 820,000 volunteer firefighters are the first responders to medical emergencies and natural disasters.
But the number of volunteers has declined over the past two decades for a variety of reasons. Foremost is the time requirement. As more and more demands are made of firefighters, they need more skills and more training. That means more time spent away from family and jobs.
One volunteer fire chief estimates that between meetings, training and paperwork, he spends 50 to 60 hours a month on his "volunteer" job.
The two-income family compounds time demands. With both husband and wife working, family time is even more precious, and that makes volunteering of any sort more onerous.
Also, more rural firefighters now commute to distant jobs and are therefore unavailable for fire calls during the day and, sometimes, during the night.
The Progressive Farmer interviewed volunteer fire chiefs from Kentucky to Montana and heard the same story again and again. "Recruitment and retention is real tough," says Fire Chief Jim Bell of the Southern Campbell County, Ky., Fire District. "This can be one of the nastiest jobs on earth."
Bell has been a firefighter for 29 years and a fire chief for seven years. He worries that "we are losing a generation of firefighters" because sons used to follow fathers into the department, but don't do so as often now as they once did. When they do, they often don't last long.
"Eighteen-year-olds love to be firemen," Bell says. But when they get married and have families, they don't have time anymore. Or, they get higher-paying jobs that take them away from their rural homes. In his department, Bell estimates the average tenure is only about three years.
"I worship my guys," he says. "But I understand the pressures on them."
In 2002, President Bush established USA Freedom Corps, in part as a reaction to the 9/11 terrorist attacks. A segment of that program is the Fire Corps, a partnership between professional and volunteer firefighter organizations.
Fire Corps members establish community safety programs, educate kids about fire prevention and help local volunteer fire departments with outreach programs that could generate future recruits.
In so doing, they free up volunteer firefighters for the more dangerous work that is their calling.
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MONEY WORRIES. Next to recruitment and retention, money issues plague volunteer fire departments most. Bell says his first budget as fire chief was $12,000 to $13,000. Now it is between $500,000 and $600,000. Expensive training and the skyrocketing cost of equipment and insurance explain the increase.
A typical cost to train and outfit a firefighter runs about $7,500. A new pumper costs $150,000 to $400,000. Life support equipment can cost $30,000. Larry Leach, volunteer fire chief in Climax, Mich., says his department's annual insurance bill is around $22,000.
But Leach says he is lucky: "This community supports us." Two years ago voters approved by a 2-to-1 margin a ballot item to build a new fire station and buy a tanker.
Other departments are not so lucky. And when financial ends don't meet, they become resourceful. Consequently, volunteer firefighters often become adept at tossing pancakes for fund-raising events or selling raffle tickets.
The men and women of the Wood Heights, Mo., Fire Protection District cover a 47-square-mile area and respond to an average of 200 calls annually. "We do a lot of heavy scrounging to equip our firefighters," says Safety Officer Cliff Phillips.
A few years ago, the district acquired a used military truck, which they married with a 4,000-gallon stainless steel tank from a milk truck to create a much-needed tanker. They converted a surplus military troop carrier into a tanker by outfitting it with a 1,000-gallon collapsible. And a 1995 Suburban recently replaced a 1985 Ford van as the department's main rescue vehicle.
Ironically, while the 9/11 terrorist attacks renewed federal interest in assisting rural fire departments, recent budget cuts have decreased some federal aid to volunteer fire departments.
A program called Assistance to Firefighters Grant, which made $750 million available to professional and volunteer fire departments in 2004, was reduced to $545 million in 2006. At the same time, fire department needs have expanded.
The National Volunteer Fire Council, which represents and lobbies for volunteer firefighters, says "[we are] not only concerned with the continued reduction in funding for this crucial program, but we are also worried about the potential shift in focus of the program exclusively to terrorism."
Many of the program's funds currently are designated to train volunteers for nuclear, chemical and biological attacks. But that reduces the amount available for equipment and training to meet everyday disasters.
Individual volunteers have financial concerns of their own. What happens to a firefighter's family if he is injured or killed in the line of duty? The amount of insurance coverage on individuals varies from department to department. Workers' compensation coverage varies from state to state.
North Carolina, for instance, does not provide workers' compensation. By contrast, Climax, Mich., volunteer Fire Chief Larry Leach says Michigan has a strong program that bases its workers' compensation benefits on state salary averages.
With or without workers' compensation, firefighting injuries are frequent. Missouri reports, for instance, that in 2006 volunteer fire departments filed 199 workers' compensation claims.
Death benefits also vary by state. Some states do not provide an insurance benefit for a volunteer's family but do provide a payment for burial. Some provide a pension for a surviving spouse or waive tuition to a state university for survivors.
Independent organizations and foundations often try to cover gaps in benefits for families of firefighters killed in the line of duty.
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DEVASTATION IN GREENSBURG. When they entered Greensburg that night, the firefighters from Mullinville saw that the damage was worse than they could have imagined. The tornado had leveled the town.
In the glare of headlights and flashing emergency vehicle lights, they saw shattered houses, broken trees and cars covered in debris. About the only man-made structure still standing was the grain elevator by the railroad tracks. "When we first drove in, I thought there had to be 200 fatalities at least," says Mullinville volunteer firefighter Rick Sherer.
As it turned out, 10 of Greensburg's 1,500 residents died that night. But it took days to determine that. The crew from Mullinville joined volunteer firefighters and first responders from all over the region in search-and-rescue operations. They pulled people out of basements and from under wreckage.
Working with flashlights, they probed any place a person might have hidden from the storm. Some people the rescuers found were so stunned, they at first refused to leave their ruined homes; they had no place to go.
For nine days, Mullinville Fire Chief Cody Sherer and his men stayed in Greensburg to aid in the rescue. Sherer says he drove the 10 miles home every day, but stayed only an hour each time before going back to Greensburg.
When he did go home, he found as many as 17 strangers in his house—refugees and disaster assistance workers who were using his home as a staging area.
"We just took them in," he says. "That's what we do in small towns—help each other."
Why They Do It
Every year about 100 U.S. firefighters die in the line of duty. About half of them are volunteers. Thousands more are injured answering calls. Yet community members continue to volunteer their time and their safety. Why?
The Progressive Farmer posed this question to some rural volunteer firefighters, and this is some of what we heard:
Chris Jarvis was one of the many volunteer firefighters who responded to the Greensburg tornado call. The 32-year-old weld shop supervisor from Moundridge, Kan., arrived in Greensburg the morning after the storm and stayed for 23 straight hours doing search and rescue.
As he investigated one house, he pushed his way into what looked to be the remains of a little girl's room and found a severed human foot. He says it didn't bother him much because his training had conditioned him to expect the frightening and the gruesome. But later, he says, "it started to get to me."
He was jarred awake by dreams in which a little girl called to him for help but he couldn't find her. Therapy has since eased his pain, but occasionally he still dreams of a little girl he couldn't help.
Did the trauma make him rethink volunteering? Absolutely not, he says. "People need us."
Talk to volunteer firefighters and that's what you hear again and again: "People need us."
For some volunteers, it takes awhile to come to that realization. Most volunteers begin their careers as young men and women, and frankly, it's the adrenaline rush of racing to an emergency that attracts them. "It catches you the first time around," Jarvis says.
Others join as a kind of payback. Cliff Phillips of the Wood Heights, Mo., department was "recruited" 19 years ago when volunteer firefighters put out an electrical blaze at his home. His grateful wife asked how she could repay them for saving her house.
"Send your husband to the fire station to sign up," they said. She did, and he has loved the department ever since. "I own this place," he says now with fierce pride. "It is mine."
Once they join, volunteer firefighters learn that helping others can be addictive. South Campbell County, Ky., Fire Chief Jim Bell says a woman he didn't recognize stopped him one day. "I know you. You saved my house," she said.
"Having a stranger thank you means a lot," Bell says.
Even more meaningful is helping friends and relatives. "Living in a small town, when you get a call for a car wreck, you worry because it's probably someone you know," Mullinville, Kan., Fire Chief Cody Sherer says. "One time it was my grandmother."
After a while, helping others becomes second nature. And some volunteer firefighters realize they are also helping themselves. Says Fire Chief Jim Bell, "I call it heaven insurance."