Rockets, Mortars And Desert Heat

Add to Everyday Dangers of Firefighting

BAGHDAD, Iraq -- “Marhaban,” friends and neighbors. That’s Arabic for “Hello.” And “ahlan washlan” -- welcome -- to Iraq! My name is George Heiserman. In real life, I’m a 22-year-old volunteer firefighter from Vera Cruz, PA. But, for almost the last year, I’ve been serving as a U.S. Army firefighter stationed at Baghdad International Airport.

We don’t really have a printable pet name for this place. Hell, maybe.

I measured outside temperatures as high as 137 F last summer. It’s even hotter inside a tent or building. Just sitting around in a T-shirt and shorts, we sweat like crazy. It is almost always windy. There is not much rain, but when it does rain it is quite heavy and makes a muddy mess out of everything.

When a fire call comes in we put on our heavy bunker gear, airpack and attack a fire in a burning tent, building or aircraft. Talk about HOT!

We just can’t drink enough water to stay hydrated. Our drinking water is all bottled. We shave and shower with tap water, but only after it

is tested and treated.

The Baghdad airport is roughly the same size as Philadelphia International, but without all of the fancy walkways, parking decks, escalators and other modern conveniences, of course.

The airport is very big and crowded. Thousands of military personnel from America, Australia, Poland and other countries live and work here.

There are two active runways. Air traffic is mainly military flights, but there are also a few civilian aircraft. Most are cargo flights, but there are also troops coming in and out pretty regularly.

The perimeter is fairly secure. When we first arrived here last May we could sit out at night and watch tracer rounds flying through the air.

We don’t see that too much anymore. Our biggest problem is the rockets and mortar rounds launched into the airport. We hear and feel those explosions and see the smoke. When incoming rounds touch off a fire, we respond to fight the fire, rescue the wounded and investigate. We also hear American artillery returning fire and the Explosive Ordinance Disposal team detonating confiscated explosives.

How did I get here? Firefighting runs in my family. Both my parents were active with Citizens Fire Company (Station 28) in Vera Cruz for years. My mother, Elaine, was a fire police. My father, George, was a firefighter. My older sister, Jen, is an active firefighter with Vera Cruz. My uncle and three cousins are also volunteer firefighters in Conestoga, PA.

When I was a child, every time the Vera Cruz fire siren went off my friend Chris Groller and I would run down to the intersection of Vera Cruz Road and Main Road to watch all the fire trucks go by. From that and going to the firehouse with my parents, I sensed the excitement and brotherhood involved in being a firefighter. I knew that I wanted to be a firefighter when I got old enough. As soon as I turned 16, I applied for membership in Citizens Fire Company. My application was approved and my dream came true: I was finally a firefighter. After starting as a junior firefighter I am now deputy chief at Vera Cruz.

When I graduated from Emmaus High School in 1999, I joined the Army Reserves -- as a firefighter, of course. After basic training, I was sent to Goodfellow Air Force Base, in San Angelo, Texas, and attended the Louis F. Garland Fire Academy, the training center for all military firefighters. I was certified as Firefighter 1 and 2, and trained in hazardous materials operations, first aid/CPR, and aircraft rescue and firefighting. In civilian life, I work for the Pennsylvania Bureau of Forestry as a Forest Patrolman responsible for wildland fire prevention, suppression and investigation.

My reserve unit -- the 369th Engineer Detachment-- arrived in Kuwait in April, 2003. We advanced to Baghdad in May. Since then we have been quartered in an old Iraqi firehouse that was abandoned during the first Gulf War in 1991. It was a dump when we first moved in. Our toilet was a plywood outhouse. The shower was gravity-fed from an overhead tank.

Living conditions are steadily getting much better, though. We now have more things to make life a little easier, including a nice, pressurized shower, porta-johns, weight room, a dayroom with TV, microwave, toaster oven and refrigerators. We are able to watch the news to see what is going on over here.

We have four engines, two 6,000-gallon water tankers and five hummers.

Two of the hummers are rescue vehicles equipped with the “Jaws of Life” and other hydraulic rescue tools.

We work 24-hour shifts, one day on, one day off. Shift change is at 8 a.m. every day. That’s when we have a briefing and receive any new orders or intelligence for the day. We do maintenance checks on our vehicles and gear so we are always ready for a call, have cleaning details and conduct regular fire inspections in all the tents. On our off days we are pretty much free to do whatever we want, unless there is a major fire or some military detail.

Things are still a mess in Iraq. Baghdad is a dangerous city, a whole different world outside the gates. We don’t leave the base much.

We have plenty to do at the airport. We respond to a variety of different calls such as structure fires, tent fires, vehicle fires, spills, hazmat incidents, vehicle accidents, brush fires, aircraft emergencies, fuel fires, mortar and rocket strikes and standbys at incidents possibly involving explosives. Then there is constant training. We conduct live structural burns, train in the shutdown and rescue procedures of the different types of aircraft we have to deal with. We also do rescue training on scrap vehicles, popping and removing doors and roofs. Besides all of that, we have helped to train Iraqi firefighters.

Back home in Vera Cruz, we average about 150 fire calls a year. We had about that may calls in just our first two months in Baghdad. We were pulling our hair out in the beginning. That was good because it helped the time to go by quicker. Things have slowed down a little, but the attacks are still frequent and, in my eyes, they are getting a little worse.

Our toughest call was a fire in a huge aircraft hangar. The fire was too big and intense for us to do much with, considering we don't have all the resources and constant water supply. We did the best we could though. Part of the hangar collapsed. Luckily, nobody was injured. We did manage to save a lot of aircraft parts worth millions of dollars.

We were at a fire call when President Bush came to visit for Thanksgiving. It was a room and contents fire in the hangar that burned earlier.

The food here is edible. It is not the best, but it is better then eating MREs (“Meal Ready to Eat”). When we first arrived, that’s all we ate. Over the holidays they did a good job preparing special meals to make us feel a little more like at home.

Home -- and everything about it -- is what I miss most. Fortunately, we have good contact with our families and friends through e-mail. There is not much letter writing anymore because snail mail takes about two weeks. Still, it is amazing the amount of care packages and letters of support that we all receive from a variety of people, majority of whom we don’t even know. We have telephone access. It is limited, but it sure is nice to hear our loved ones’ voices over the phone. All of that really helps to boost our morale, and makes us feel a little better.

As it stands now, we are expecting to come home toward the end of April, 2004. I can’t wait.

Well, I must get going. Thank you (“shokran lak”) to the Vera Cruz Fire Department and everyone else who supports us. Take care, and keep in touch. See you later (“araka lahikan”), Georgie