I am sitting alone at last. The firehouse is quiet and I can hear the pipes playing in my head. My Chief has fallen. While we ran from tone out to tone out, he slowly let go. As his boys ran the beat, he went to sleep. I miss him, you know. For some silly reason he used to call me "Watash". I think I'll write that on the back of my helmet. He believed in me.
So, Brothers, there we were....Hey, I'm not gonna lie to ya, it wasn't the coldest night in Alaska, we've seen much worse. But lend your ear (or eyes) and I'll tell you a tale of frozen fingers, ears and eyelids,… Continue