In two weeks I’ll mark 25 years in the fire service. I started as a firefighter, had a stint as a fire inspector, and now serve proudly as a risk reduction specialist and infrequent public information officer. I’m glad I read Zac Unger’s engaging memoir Working Fire: The Making of an Accidental Fireman at this point of my life. He gets it and puts into words much of what I believe and feel. I’ve never worked 24- or 48-hour shifts for urban fire departments, but his perspective certainly resonates with me: “The truth is that the fires always go out, that with us or without us, they’ll never burn forever. The only question is how much of ourselves we will leave there on that day as an exchange, as the price for the fire’s going out sooner rather than later. Every fire takes a toll, every fire diminishes the men and women who fight it, men and women who’ve made the choice.” Responding to emergencies, a term defined by the caller rather than the responder, diminishes but it also nurtures those of us who enjoy taking care of people.
When he wrote this wonderful book, Unger had been a firefighter for Oakland (CA) FD for five years. He had become a paramedic and specialized in water rescue. Like all firefighters, he responds to myriad incidents: wildfires, block-razing structure fire, shootings, cardiac arrests. My favorite chapter—Blood Pressure—focused on his medical training and responses. I also like how he integrated gender, ethnicity, age, background, and other differences into the book.
I appreciate his writing style and how he shares what he’s learned about himself: “In the beginning of my career, I had thought that fire fighting was about a thing, about getting mastery over an inanimate process. But the truth I know now is that my job is unambiguously about people, about the complexity of the human spirit. Fire fighting is not about fire. It’s about the save. It’s about keeping the flames from licking too deeply into a vulnerable life and wreaking havoc there.” (That’s what risk reduction is about, too, and why I love it.) Unger integrates his sense of humor, referring to CPR as “ritual flogging of the dead,” for example, masterfully. He shares interactions with coworkers that capture their personalities fairly and respectfully without painting them as gods or titans or monsters. Unger shares good stories from the street, the station, and home as well as mistakes because, as his academy instructor said, everybody screws up; it’s about how you recover.
Unger wasn’t born to be a firefighter; he responded to an advertisement at a bus stop and found himself a new, natural home in the fire service. This book allows you to walk with him as he retraces those steps. I recommend the read and the walk.