Ivan LaGrand, center, cooked hamburgers while Charles Brawley and Mike Allen ate lunch and watched television at Fire Station 1 in Cape Girardeau. The team rotates cooking dutiesBy Andrea L. Buchanan ~ Southeast Missourian
Firefighters in Cape Girardeau are on duty 24 hours a day. Some days that can mean hours of nonstop, high-adreneline action. Other days it can mean hours of excruciating boredom while the guys wait to be called to duty.
This state of constant vigilance -- even when there's nothing to do -- can wear on the men and women who choose the profession. But it's the impossibility of planning that keeps the job interesting.
"It's like feast or fast," said firefighter Vicki Moldenhauer. "It can be kind of hard on the body, but it's also what keeps it fun."
Charles Brawley has been a firefighter for more than two decades and is a crew captain.
"We get called to everything," he said. "You just never know when they're going to pop."
Whether rescuing a man from a burning building, helping another who was bitten by a snake or pulling a victim from a crushed vehicle, firefighters are called to the scene.
In Cape Girardeau, four stations rotate three crews each in 24-hour shifts.
For the most part, firefighters work in four-man teams. During their shift, the teams go everywhere together and stay close to the fire engine in case they're called to an emergency.
Beginning the day
They begin the shift about 6:30 a.m., arriving at the station and meeting with the outgoing crew. They check over the trucks and wash them, replacing equipment that may have been used the night before.
One of the captain's duties is to change the name tags on the door of the fire engine. It's an accountability log. Small plastic strips with each firefighter's name are attached with Velcro.
"That way they know who went in if we don't come back," Brawley said.
The danger seemed distant on a sunny Cape Girardeau day in September, but Americans have seen many grim reminders this week of the threats rescue workers face.
Over breakfast, the crew captain goes over the business for the day, informing the crew of special training and events in the city they need to be aware of.
A vehicle accident on Mount Auburn interrupts the briefing at fire stations 2 and 3. At the scene, firefighters combine the skills of medic and mechanic, cutting a woman from her car before administering first aid.
The team hits the gym about 9:30 a.m. Most work out at the Osage Community Centre, stretching and hitting the weight room or treadmills. Some play a quick pickup game of basketball.
"The way I see it," Brawley said, "if we get called to heft a 300-pound fella, we should be comfortable doing it."
Fighting a cold, Mike Allen only runs a mile on the treadmill.
Cooking duties
On the way back is a grocery store stop. Crew members rotate cooking duties, and some are considerably more talented than others.
Frying hamburgers and heating up the oven for frozen French fries, Ivan LaGrand says he misses the cooking of a regular crewmate who's on vacation.
Later, an elderly woman falls, injuring her leg. She wails in agony as the firefighters and ambulance workers determine what part of her leg was injured and try to figure out the best way to move her down a tight hallway from her room.
At the SEMO District Fair, firefighters watched the 7:30 p.m. demolition derby, alert in case of engine fires or injured participants.
The stations rotate shifts at the fairgrounds, patrolling the grounds, checking for fire hazards and making themselves available in case of emergency.
They were ready for action and on the scene in minutes when a spooked cow at the fair trampled a woman and a little girl Tuesday.
The stationhouse on Sprigg Street was unusually quiet Monday night, and the firefighters prowled, waiting for the bell to ring.
Finally, they relax and go to sleep.
At 3:45 a.m., the alarm sounds, and 40 seconds later the men are down the pole and on the truck.
A fire alarm has sounded at Parkwood Manor Residential Care Center, 325 N. Sprigg.
No smoke or flames are evident, but sleepy, dazed residents wait on the porch and in the back yard while firefighters inspect the building.
Fifteen minutes later, the men are back at the station.
Some, like Jim Moyers, can't go back to sleep. It's a hazard of the profession that's made him wary, he says.
"Every now and then, you get these all-nighters; where it seems like every hour there's something."
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