The Firefighter

Sirens sound! He awakes with a start and hastily grabs up his clothes, dressing on the run, as he has so many times before. Thumping of footsteps, motors churning, directions yelled, chaos! TOTAL CHAOS! Or so it seems...yet, within seconds, dispatch...they are on their way, racing down the street, sirens at ear-splitting pitch. Meanwhile, his mind dashes to other nights-days of grueling, heartbreaking tragedy-ridden, heat-searing work. And he cries to the depth of his soul, "WHY DO I CONTINUE ?" Loaded with nets, roof cutters, ladders, axes, etc. they don air masks as they arrive. It is another bad one. Flames are shooting everywhere, lighting the darkest of night with an eerie glow. Screaming, a man and woman clutch to each other in panic. Nothing but PURE Intuition, or so it seems, takes The Firefighter through collapsing beams, up the stair, past flaming bedrooms and into a tiny closet to the side of a smoke filled bedroom. He quickly gathers two squirming bundles in his arm, darts to the nearest window and throws them to the waiting nets below...He leaps. Restrained no longer, the man and woman bound for the nets. The Firefighter, weakened, hears sounds that are so far away, of a little dog's whimper, happy cries and excited voices. Then, an explosion rocks the very ground upon which he lay. Through the pain of a broken arm, he feels a little dog licking his face, and slowly opens his eyes, the depth of his soul is touched, he will never be the same, he needs no thank you's, because he now knows the very reason "WHY HE CONTINUES"; for within her happy parents' arms..... a child
smiles. 
-unknown author 

What is a Firefighter

He's the guy next door - a man's man with the memory of a little boy. He has never gotten over the excitement of engines and sirens and danger. He's a guy like you and me with warts and worries and unfulfilled dreams. Yet he stands taller than most of us. He's a fireman. He puts it all on the line when the bell rings. A fireman is at once the most fortunate and the least fortunate of men. He's a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death. He's a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power of violence out of control. He's responsive to a child's laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again. He's a man who appreciates the simple pleasures of life - hot coffee held in numb, unbending fingers - a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling - the camaraderie of brave men - the divine peace and selfless service of a job well done in the name of all men. He doesn't wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities. When he marches, it is to honor a fallen comrade. He doesn't preach the brotherhood of man. He lives it.

 -unknown author