'The new normal'Station 16 deals with the past as life returns to the firehouse By Glenn Smith (Contact)
The Post and Courier
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Fire anniversary audio slideshow
Mic Smith Art Wittner, captain of Engine 16 of the Charleston Fire Department, fought through his grief and still is on the job today. Wittner was the lone surviving member of the Engine 16 crew sent to the fire that destroyed the Sofa Super Store and killed nine city firefighters on June 18, 2007. 
Mic Smith Art Wittner displays a tattoo he got to honor the fallen firefighters. 'I miss them. I think about them every day. I got my tattoo and every day I pat my tattoo, and it's like shaking hands with those guys.' Related storiesCapt. Villarreal can't stay away, no matter the pain Art Wittner trembled as he sat alone in his garage on a sweltering July afternoon. Sweat rolled down his brow. His hands shook. His brain boiled with images of smoke, flames, destruction. He could feel himself unraveling by the minute. One month before, Wittner was aboard one of two fire engines that raced from a West Ashley station house to a growing blaze at the Sofa Super Store on Charleston's Savannah Highway. The trucks carried six men. Wittner, alone, survived. He manned the pumps outside, furiously working to feed water into the store, when a fireball roared through the massive furniture outlet, killing nine of his buddies. He ran helplessly toward the building as flames roared from the windows and devoured everything inside. The images swirled in Wittner's head as he huddled in his garage, alone with his grief, rage and guilt. Dark thoughts crawled through his mind. Everyone else died. Why had he been spared? It wasn't right. Wasn't it his duty to be with them? Suddenly, something tumbled from a shelf and crashed to the floor behind him. Wittner whirled around and saw the box he had used to clean out the locker of his friend Earl Drayton, one of the firefighters who died in that June 18 blaze. A framed photo slid from the box. Someone had snapped the shot a while back as Drayton and Wittner shared a laugh with firefighter Michael French, who also died in the sofa store fire. Wittner stared at the photo. He felt sure Old Earl was trying to send him a sign. "All kinds of things were going through my mind," Wittner said. "But seeing that picture of me, Frenchie and Earl. ... It just kind of brought me back." The next day, Wittner picked up a phone and called a mental health counselor. So began his journey to the place he calls "the new normal." It's a place the Charleston Fire Department as a whole has been working toward in the year since the deadly blaze claimed a large piece of its heart and soul. Amid heartache, uncertainty and divisiveness, this proud Fire Department has been forced to shed its hard-charging, tradition-bound ways and become a modern outfit that places a premium on firefighters' lives. That has meant a host of changes for the men on the front lines, many of whom are still deeply wounded from losing nine of their own. Firefighter CoverageIn our special section with photos, videos, interactives, donation information and every story written about the tragedy.No place knows this better than Station 16. At the time of the fire, this tidy brick station on Ashley Hall Plantation Road housed engines 16 and 19. With the exception of Wittner, the entire shift on duty that night died. Alone in the aftermath Wittner, 48, collapsed into the arms of another firefighter when he returned shell-shocked and exhausted to the station the morning after the fire. He felt anxious and adrift, like a child lost at the county fair. His captain, Mike Benke, had a running joke that their shift was the most dysfunctional functional family in America. When the fire call came in, they were having their nightly argument over what to have for dinner. Now, all Wittner saw were empty chairs at that long wooden table in the station house. Wittner's only comfort was knowing that he helped recover Drayton's body from the rubble and was able to touch his best friend before crews zipped the body bag closed. "It was healing to know I was the last fireman who ever got to touch him," Wittner said. Go home, his commanders told him. Be with your family. He followed orders, but it didn't feel right. Wittner didn't know what to say to his wife or his two sons. He returned to the station early the next morning, a full day before he was scheduled to work. He remained there for days, leaving only to attend funerals or escort his friends' bodies from the county morgue. He tended to visitors, fought back tears and pushed aside questions about his own well-being. Wittner needed to tell people about the deeds and lives of the men who died. "It's not about me," he explained again and again. "It's about those nine guys and their families." Other firefighters were assigned to the station on a temporary basis to help cover the shift and keep the engines running. It was an awkward assignment, filling the shoes of fallen heroes as a parade of well-wishers shuffled across the concrete floor to offer condolences, flowers, memorial bumper stickers, cards and gifts of food. As acting captain, it was Wittner's task to fill out the daily log of attendance and activity. He couldn't do it. Staring back from the ledger's pages was the handwritten roster from June 18. At shift's end, one name remained: his own. A plea for help Night after night, the inferno invaded Wittner's dreams; the scenes of chaos and confusion cycling through his mind like a newsreel on a perpetual loop. He'd wake up gasping, sweating, the bedsheets soaking wet. Two weeks after the fire, Engine 16 responded to a call at an apartment complex on Pebble Road, near the Sofa Super Store site. Wittner jumped off the truck and saw the warped silhouette of the sofa store's charred roof. He fell to his knees and began vomiting. He felt ashamed. It was the first time in his 17 years as a Charleston firefighter that he had been unable to do his job. Problems also were evident at home. He and his wife, Marcella, were high school sweethearts in Colorado. They'd been married 28 years. But he grew silent after the fire, moody. He just wanted to be left alone. "I couldn't hold a conversation with her," he said. "I couldn't stand her doting on me." One day, Marcella confronted him. I might not have lost you in the fire, she told him, but I'm losing you emotionally. "She told me that I needed to quit being so selfish, that I wasn't the only one with a guilt trip," he said. "I was like 'What are you talking about?' She said 'You know, I knew their wives and everything. How do you think I feel standing there knowing that you were the only one who came home?' "She kind of put me in my place," he said. The tide seemed to turn when Wittner entered mental health counseling about a month after the fire. He began treatment with a clinical psychologist provided by the city and spoke with peer counselors from the New York City and Worcester, Mass., fire departments, which had experienced similar losses. Talking about the fire helped him confront his problems, release his emotions, gain control over his feelings. He opened up to his wife and sons, saw their pain as well. It strengthened his resolve to be a good father and husband, and to remain a firefighter, carrying on the work of his fallen brothers. "People are not going to gauge me by how much I've suffered, but how I have recovered from it," Wittner said. "I can go into a shell, be mad at the world and go downhill, or I can stand on my own feet, pull my suspenders up and go. And that's what I'm doing." A changing of the guard Fire Chief Rusty Thomas promoted Wittner to captain in September. Wittner told the chief he didn't want the bump in rank if it meant leaving Station 16 for some other assignment. Thomas let him stay. "I want to finish my career at 16, because that's where I belong," Wittner said. "It's an incredible security blanket for me. It's the last place I saw those guys alive." Sometimes it's difficult to look around the station house dinner table and see new faces, different people sitting in the chairs of the dead. When Wittner closes his eyes, he can still see Earl smoking a cigarette, Capt. Mike filling out the journal, Capt. Billy Hutchinson downing an egg sandwich and Pepsi. "I think about them every day. I would do anything just to have them back for one more hour," Wittner said. The new guys will never be those men; nor does Wittner want them to be. Each crew has its own character, rhythm and bonds. And he likes what he sees in this group: skill, eagerness and concern for one another. "I couldn't have hand-picked a better bunch of guys," he said. Take Engineer Joe Simmons, a tough, wiry veteran. Simmons has been around the fire service for 20 years and can maneuver a big ladder truck through traffic like threading a needle. Or consider Stacey Robinson, a soft-spoken firefighter who knows how to work under pressure. He spent two years fighting fires in Iraq for a government contractor before returning to the Charleston Fire Department last summer. Then there's "the kid," Jeremy Roland, a lanky, 19-year-old country boy who chews tobacco and learned firefighting in his hometown of Barnwell. When they jump off the truck, each man falls quickly into his role: Wittner relaying orders, Robinson and Roland working the hoses, Simmons manning the pumps. It's as fluid as the banter that fills the station house, an endless stream of stories, jokes and good-natured needling. Roland is a frequent target because he's the youngest. They tease him about the endless cell phone calls from his girlfriend, his status as an expectant father, his rural roots. "Hey, did you know Jeremy had to go to the next county to find a girlfriend he wasn't related to?" Roland just shakes it off and shoots a stream of brown tobacco juice at the ground. He'll get 'em next time. Dealing with the past Each of the new men had his own thoughts about being assigned to Station 16. Roland had just joined the Fire Department and initially worried about the pressure of replacing someone who died. Robinson had no doubts. He worked with seven of the fallen. "All of the guys were hard-core firefighters. They would have wanted me here," he said. The station holds its memories, and odd things have happened there since the fire. One morning, a window that Capt. Billy long complained about cleaning shattered for no apparent reason. Another time, the air pack alarms started blaring from the empty truck. One firefighter who was stationed at 16 for a spell asked for a transfer after he spent nights pacing, unable to sleep, seeing things in the shadows. It doesn't bother Simmons. He was already accustomed to working amid grief. He came over from Ladder 5, which lost a three-man crew in the fire. He arrived at his former station the morning after and saw the dead men's cars still parked outside. No one from the next shift would sleep in their beds. The cell phones of the fallen rang all day with calls that went unanswered. One phone had 68 missed calls by the time Simmons switched it off. It belonged to Michael French. A week before the fire, French expressed hope that he would someday learn to drive the trucks as well as Simmons. "I told him 'Don't worry. You're a bright young man. You'll go far in this department,' " Simmons said. Coping with the present Engine 16 rumbled down Savannah Highway on a recent afternoon, the men joking and chatting about lunch options on their way from testing the truck's pumps. Suddenly, they fell silent as the truck rolled by the sofa store site, now a vacant expanse of sun-bleached dirt and gravel. Simmons shook his head. "Something just comes over you when you go by that place," he said. His head floods with images of flames, echoes of the cries for help, the panicked feeling of being trapped. Wittner understands. During a recent exercise in rescue techniques, trainers dropped a net over him to simulate a roof collapse. As the weight pressed down on him, his mind flashed to the sofa store. It was June 18 again, and he could see — no, feel — the flames chewing through the building. It felt like his legs were on fire. "Then I felt Capt. Mike and Earl right there, and I swear they helped me through it," Wittner said. The crew members have tried to respect one another's ways of dealing with the fire. For Simmons, it's best not to dwell on the tragedy; for Wittner, it's better to talk it out. Sometimes, the memories pull at Wittner and he has to step outside for a minute, collect himself. No one questions him except to ask if he's all right. When counselors come to speak with him, the others wait in the engine bay or busy themselves with tasks around the station. Wittner doesn't press his men to join the discussion, share their feelings. They'll do so when they're ready. Wall of plaques The healing process is slow. But it can be seen in Wittner's returning confidence, the new faces that surround him and in Station 16 itself. Some months back, the station was something of a shrine with plaques, banners and other tributes to the fallen nine covering every wall. The memorial area is now limited to a wall of plaques and a small area where news clippings, pictures and other mementos recall the tragedy. On the opposite wall hangs a collage of photos showing the crews of 16 and 19 since the fire — smiling, joking, sharing good times with their co-workers and families. They call the collage "The Happy Wall." Nancy Gilman, a nurse at Roper Hospital, created The Happy Wall. She was on duty the night of the fire and saw the collective pain of the firefighters who came through the hospital's doors. She's since adopted Station 16 and acts as its den mother of sorts, stopping by regularly to cook meals, offer hugs or simply chat. Others come as well. Retired firefighters, neighborhood kids, citizens who drop off cookies or offer their thanks. Some widows of the fallen bring their children to Station 16 to visit and sit in the trucks where their daddies once rode. It all feels right to Wittner, to see life slowly returning to the station house. "We still have a long way to go, but it's getting better," he said. "It will never be the same, but I don't want it to be the same. This is the new normal." One night, as the sun set through the oaks beside the station, Wittner hefted 8-month-old Madisyn Doctor into the air, cooing and giggling as he coaxed a smile from the little girl. Her mother, Megan, is a single parent who lives across the street. The men of Station 16 have taken them under their wing. Wittner just can't get enough of the kid. As he cuddled the infant close, the alarm tones sounded over a loudspeaker, followed by the crackle of a dispatcher's voice. "Engine 16, Engine 16." Wittner gave the little girl a peck and handed her back to her mother. He smiled as he turned toward the truck. "Bye baby," he said. "Time to go to work." Reach Glenn Smith at gsmith@postandcourier.com or 937-5556. |
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Comments
This article has 30 comment(s)
Posted by SUNTANNED on June 18, 2008 at 5:57 a.m. (Suggest removal)
A SAD DAY IN CHARLESTON PEOPLE SHOULD BE KIND AND UNDERSTANDING AND KEEP THEIR CALLOUS COMMENTS TO THEMSELVES.SHOW SOME RESPECT ON THESE COMMENTS.
Posted by UberBlitzkrieg on June 18, 2008 at 6 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Well you were right about one thing... you are a callous bastard.
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 6:13 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Whoever you are, I really think you need to take a long look at yourself in a mirror. None of us do this job to die you friggin idiot! Wew don't "expect" to die. Thats why we train, thats why we ask for equipment and staffing. Take a long look at yourself in the mirror you prick. If this subject does not interest you then don't read it. Of all days you pick to spout venom you picked today? I really hope you never need our help.
Posted by moonpie on June 18, 2008 at 6:24 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Unbelievable one year later and it still is hard to read about this.
I'm sorry you "callous bastard" I wondered the same thing but for a different reason. Is the city of Chas Fire Dept doing these tributes every year because they're on some sort of guilt trip? You know how expensive this is going to be every year? And NO 9 MEN LOSING THEIR LIFES IN ONE NIGHT IS NOT "TO BE EXPECTED".
PS, I never knew these women were talking about that I need to pay better attention!
Posted by charlestonpride on June 18, 2008 at 7:50 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Callous bastard...It is one thing to die doing your job, but it's quite another to die "trying" to do your job. When the equipment or training isn't adequate to "do" your job and you DIE from it! These are heart felt stories that I have not heard before. The reality of surviving with out the family you have created in the work place, to be the only survivor left to shoulder the "guilt" from the question, why me? Today my heart goes out to the survivors who have to live with the memories of that night.
Posted by Tulane75 on June 18, 2008 at 7:59 a.m. (Suggest removal)
jifdeng3 said, " I really hope you never need our help."
I know you don't mean it, but it sounds like you would do your job less enthusiastically if you knew that the fire victim had views that oppose yours.
What did you mean by, " I really hope you never need our help."?
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 8:16 a.m. (Suggest removal)
No, we do our jobs regardless of views.
I just hope that someone who has that viewpoint on the people that go to work everyday to save their butt in a bad situation does not ever have to face the people who do the job. Then again, maybe if he(her) did need us it it would change their viewpoint. Like I said before, we do not go to work "to die". I cannot believe that someone would thing we go to work expecting that! Add to that, I really do not care what he is tired of. He has to freedom to say his opinion, however, it is the wrong day.
The "blame game" is being done so that very important changes can be made and someone without experence and knowledge in this field sould refrain from saying what "needs" to happen. If he is in the fire service then I pity him. If he does not want to hear about it anymore then he can choose to use his mouse and click another article that may be more up his alley.
Posted by bickleseagrave on June 18, 2008 at 8:19 a.m. (Suggest removal)
The Post and Courier have been doing some very touching well written stories.
Can y'all forget the bickering for a day and let's all remember the "Charleston 9" RIP brothers
Posted by highclass on June 18, 2008 at 8:49 a.m. (Suggest removal)
I couldn't even finish reading this story. Mikey and Brandon I knew since we were little kids. It breaks my heart that they along with all of the others are gone. Put aside all the BS for today and remember the price these guys paid and the price their families still pay everyday.
Posted by LiveYourBestLife on June 18, 2008 at 8:59 a.m. (Suggest removal)
While the coverage of the Charleston Nine may seem over the top to some, it is part of the healing process. Please understand I said part, not all. Allowing us to remember nine lives who served our community is a wonderful thing; however, bickering and fighting over the source, cause and hind-sight will do nothing be reopen those wounds and never allow them to heal.
The true healing process begins to heal at a greater speed when we are able to use our experience to help someone else. Instead of the bickering on this list, help someone today. Say a prayer for those involved.
If I was a visitor to our "Holy City" and saw this bickering, I would sure understand how it is slowly becoming the "Un-Holy City." The bickering increases hateful emotions' so pray then find someone to help.
That is my opinion and time.
Posted by proudmomma on June 18, 2008 at 9:03 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Art-I am praying for you and Marci and the boys. It will take a long time to heal, but you will get through it. Thanks so much for your service to our community.
Posted by oldglory on June 18, 2008 at 9:29 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Well, jonsey, perhaps you should move farther north, where normally an event such as this has been makes the front page only once. One of the good things about the south is that all seem to stay in touch, much like a small town. Had you been connected in some way--relative, neighbor, friend--you would feel a bit differently. My wild guess is that you are not terribly old and really cannot process life and emotions well yet. However, you are definitely entitled to your opinion, feelings, etc., as is each of us.
At 70, I know for a fact that many callous-appearing people just have never experienced ultimate losses nor have had enough life experiences; therefore, they have hardened themselves to others' pain as well as their own pain. Once we have walked the many footsteps in life, we begin to understand life a bit better.
Mr. Wittner is still alive. He saw his family's needs and responded. He's working it out each day just as he should for himself and those close to him. The pain is inevitable, but you will make it, Mr. Wittner, because you are doing the right things for you.
As always, Glenn Smith is a superior writer, fact finder, able to capture the 'feelings' of a subject, etc. I always look forward to the news that he covers.
Posted by LadyTarHeel on June 18, 2008 at 9:48 a.m. (Suggest removal)
I must say, the P&C has been successful in bringing me to tears just about everyday this week. I cried on the way in this morning when the radio station did a tribute to the Charleston 9. I watched the piece ESPN did on Louis Mulkey and posted on my Facebook and I cried. Like a big baby. I didn't know any of the firefighters personally, but it just made me think about how fragile life is and in one moment it can be taken away. My thoughts are with all of the firefighters and their families on this day. I'm sure it will be difficult, but always remember to look to the hills from which cometh your health.
Posted by Weeeee on June 18, 2008 at 10:54 a.m. (Suggest removal)
I agree with jonsey.
jifdeng3 said, "I really hope you never need our help." What an F'd thing to say. It's this ignorant cowboy attitude that got the "9" killed anyway. Methinks you should reconsider your choice of profession if this is going to be your attitude.
On a more (of what I think at least) humorous note, they're going to mourn every year for nine years...you guessed it...a year for each of them. (It wouldn't really surprise me if the media did drag it out that long.)
Posted by captivated on June 18, 2008 at 11:10 a.m. (Suggest removal)
Mr. Art Wittner, I would like to thank you for your devoted service to the citizens of Charleston and assure you that you will learn to live with the pain of losing your comrades on that fateful day. Just keep the faith and use what you learned that day to help your brothers in firefighting. I would also like to thank Mr. Glen Smith for a very well written story. I just noticed yesterday that they are starting the memorial at the site of the old SSS. I can't wait to see it.
Posted by oldglory on June 18, 2008 at 11:38 a.m. (Suggest removal)
jonsey, thanks for your explanation, and you surely are no 'weirdo'. With your explanation, I see that you're a fine person.
I do get your point that we -all- process things differently, such as you not wanting it in your face. Actually, I think many people feel that way. And I? I prefer talking it out with another until the pain abates somewhat.
I'm sure I came off sounding critical, but I didn't mean to sound that way. Obviously, I was not clear even though I said, "However, you are definitely entitled to your opinion, feelings, etc., as is each of us." (Meaning also that we are all in different steps of the life process.)
Posted by coolfreaknbeans on June 18, 2008 at 12:57 p.m. (Suggest removal)
A little off topic sorry.Does anyone know where they put all of the shirts,posters and mementos people left at the site?Is it at the fire museum?
Posted by UrGatorbait on June 18, 2008 at 1:25 p.m. (Suggest removal)
Well said jonesey. No you aren't callous you just might have moved on a little faster than others.
To firefighters or whatever they call themselves. Saying " You hope those with a different opinion never need our help" what an ass. I agree with the poster that stated it first. You're immature, don't have your emotions in check dude. I wouldn't want your emotions degrading your ability to save someone's life by seizing. So get the hell over yourself, your cavalier attitude will get more injured. It's the same f'd up mentality that helped get those guys killed in the first place. I don' think this is your cup of tea sport.
Time to move on and make sure the firefighters and as a matter of course, have all the first responders given the best training and equipment possible. It's in their best interests and ours as citizens. I think that'll be a legacy the men who were lost will appreciate.
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 1:32 p.m. (Suggest removal)
Weeeee
Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about? Cowboy attitude? Why don't you read my reply to that comment. Excuse me if Im a little pissed off over some of the peoples frigging attitudes about this situation! If I happen to hurt someones feeling because they can't refrain from complaining about an article that was written in the rememberance of nine firefighters that died one year ago then too damn bad. Cry me a river. Fact is that when I am operating at the scene of an emergency the safety of my crew comes first. Period. So don't sit there typing your comments and act like you know anything about me.
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 1:34 p.m. (Suggest removal)
That goes to gator bait too
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 1:34 p.m. (Suggest removal)
That goes to gator bait too
Posted by SpongeMunkie on June 18, 2008 at 2:05 p.m. (Suggest removal)
I have to agree with Jonesy, too. I understand that it has been a year since it happened, and remembering those that have fallen on the one year anniversary is appropriate. To a point. I hope that the media does not rehash it so much next year. I am sorry that these men lost their lives. I understand that they are human and have friends and family that still mourn them. Is the media running with this because they were firemen? Because there were 9 lives lost? There were 2 police officers shot and killed on duty here in Moncks Corner on March 25, 2007. I don't recall reading too much about that tragedy. Maybe its a lesser tragedy. Although I don't believe their friends and family would agree. Let time work its wonders and let the wounds heal. It cannot be all too helpful to keep bringing this up. My mother passed away a few years ago. I know that if I had to keep hearing about how she died it would have taken so much longer to accept it.
Posted by jifdeng3 on June 18, 2008 at 2:30 p.m. (Suggest removal)
jonsey:
I humbly and sincerely apologize that you took my comment that way. I absolutly would never wish that upon somebody. I took from your comment that you do not understand the work that firefighters do and was implying that I hope you would take the time to understand us. I was making that comment the context that if we did have to respond to you that you would be un-appricitave of the service.I have done this job for 12 years so I am well aware of what it entails. It is a very emotional day for alot of us so yes, I may have jumped on your comment a little harshly. One again, I apologise and I will no longer comment on this story.
Brothers, Rest well!
Posted by Weeeee on June 18, 2008 at 2:34 p.m. (Suggest removal)
Uh. Listen moron. Perhaps you should read what I wrote instead of babbling about the safety of your crew. You act like jonsey said he was glad they died or something. You even responded with that trash of a comment implying that you'd like to see him die in a fire. As for me, you're lucky I didn't say something heartless like "too bad it wasn't the Charleston 10" or "too bad you didn't rush in first". That would make me as much of a buffoon as you are though...and you know...I'm better than that AND you.
And Thomas, who is saying anything to "spit on their memory"? How exactly do you equate "enough with the media coverage" to "spitting on their memory"?
It's sickening how dense some people are.
Posted by JohnS on June 18, 2008 at 4:02 p.m. (Suggest removal)
This whole thing reminds me of Greta on Fox. Lot's of hype surrounding death. I hope after today this story goes away and the love ones can get some closure.
Posted by UberBlitzkrieg on June 18, 2008 at 4:15 p.m. (Suggest removal)
coolfreaknbeans - The items left at the fire scene are now in storage with the City of Charleston to await what is going to be done wiht a memorial. They are not at the fire museum.
Posted by coolfreaknbeans on June 18, 2008 at 4:46 p.m. (Suggest removal)
Thank you so much UberBlitzkrieg.I heard so many rumors and didnt know what to believe.I woud like to see all of it used in a good way.
Posted by SpongeMunkie on June 18, 2008 at 4:50 p.m. (Suggest removal)
Thomas1776... just because someone's opinion differs from yours does not make them a sociopath. Maybe you are the sociopathic one for believing that everyone should share your views. I did not see anyone making light of the tragedy, just concerns about the media coverage.
Posted by coolfreaknbeans on June 18, 2008 at 5:06 p.m. (Suggest removal)
I was attacked yesterday because I questioned why the memorial(held in a public place)was gonna have screens put up and traffic redirected to make it "private".Sounds like an oxymoron to me.I'm all for private grieving.But I know enough to know that when Im in public-Im grieving publicly.
Posted by FLFireMedic305 on June 19, 2008 at 9:55 a.m. (Suggest removal)
This article touched me more than the news of the tragedy one year ago... Capt. Wittner's emotion could be deeply felt as I read... I thought of how difficult it would be to sit at the dinner table in my own firehouse and see nothing but the empty chairs that use to hold those whom I have worked with so closely, as a family... I actually felt a pain in my heart and my eyes started to well up with tears for Capt. Wittner as I read towards the end of the article about the children of the fallen coming to the station to "visit and sit in the trucks where their daddies once rode"...
This article is a tribute to the men that lost there live one year ago... This is not the media picking a scab as one "commenter" puts it... These men as well as the ones that are still on the job in Charleston, SC and across this great nation deserve gratitude for the risks that the they take every shift of their careers... And I know that none of us in this profession ever "expect" to die in the line of duty...
May the Charleston 9 rest in peace and may those left behind in the wake of this tragedy feel the hand of God upon then and continue to help them through this time in their lives...
Firefighter/Paramedic
J. Loukota, Jr.
Charlotte County Fire & E.M.S.
Punta Gorda, FL
I.A.F.F. Local 2546