The latest action movie Ladder 49 is based on the real-life experiences of Irish-American firefighters working in Baltimore in the US. Karen McCarthy spent a day with the team.
'Of any fire department movie, it's probably the best one to come out," says 30-year-old Peter Hanna of Ladder 49, a film that begins in a towering inferno where firefighter Jack Morrison (Joaquin Phoenix) is trapped after the 12th floor collapses. In a series of flashbacks, Morrison recalls his life as a firefighter, friend and family man, while devoted comrades led by fire chief Mike Kennedy (John Travolta) mount a desperate rescue mission to get him out alive.
Hanna chats affably about the film and fire fighting while he inspects Oldtown Firehouse's "Engine 6", the sparkling truck to which he's assigned. He checks his battered old "turn-out gear", the uniform that looks like it has seen its share of fires in the six years he's been on the job. The badge on the sleeve reads "Pride Protecting People".
"We're respected," he offers as an explanation of their compulsion to run headlong into burning buildings. "We see people for their need and give them all the help we can."
Actor Tim Guinee, who learned how to fight fires for Ladder 49 by riding with Hanna and the Oldtown men, developed this compulsion himself. By fighting real fires he not only earned their respect, he became hooked by what his teacher, Lt Stephen Cobo says inspires them all: "the gratification that comes from helping others".
But when any day can become a punishing test of character, added rewards such as satisfaction, fulfilment and a sense of belonging to the firehouse camaraderie reinforce Hanna's commitment "to be the best firefighter I can be".
This work ethic may come from his father, a hardworking bricklayer who moved the family from Co Tyrone to Baltimore in 1987 in search of employment. Or it may come from an inherent sense of compassion, as his wife Bernie from Co Galway suggests.
But when Hanna talks about racing to fires and describes the "greatest feeling" of putting them out, something else emerges - a deeply ingrained appetite for excitement.
When the high-pitched beeps of fire alarms sound, firefighters drop everything, bolt through corridors, slide down poles and jump onto trucks, where revving engines, yelling men and slamming doors blend with relentless radio chatter and the thundering clatter of firehouse gates swinging open.
Within seconds, engines peel off with sirens screeching as firefighters race to make good on their promise: "You call, we haul, that's all."
"All hell breaking loose" is how Hanna describes the fire scene, where sometimes distraught people wander the streets in search of loved ones. Medics deal with sights most people hope they'll never see.
Outside, the "Truck (or "Ladder") Company" pull survivors out of the blaze, smash windows and cleave doors to ventilate the fire and give the "Engine Company" a fighting chance. Inside, the Engine Company drag heavy hoses through pitch black smoke, and follow the only discernible indicator - the reflective tape on the uniform in front.
"You can't hear anything except your own breath inside your mask and the lieutenant behind kicking you on," Hanna says.
With adrenaline pumping, they clamber over "God knows what", unable to see if the building is opened up, or if the water will just turn to scalding steam. They won't know if the fire has consumed all its oxygen unless a window is popped and they hear the dreaded sound of a fire sucking air that precedes the blast of a perilous firestorm.
Hanna has been stuck, lost, burned, scalded and almost suffocated. He remembers pulling a trapped firefighter out of a firestorm, and the third floor collapse that hurtled Jimmy Smith all the way to the basement where his mask flew off and the blistering heat burned his trachea when he tried to breathe. He remembers how a medic kept Smith alive by cutting an air passage into his throat.
Cobo remembers the fire that ignited when a lightening bolt hit an old ironworks building. The roof collapsed, rupturing a gas line that further fed the fire and forced everyone outside, where foundry stones rained down on them.
"It was panic," says Cobo. "A hand was sticking out of the rubble. I grabbed it and kept yelling: 'Hang in there, we're going to get you out'."
The captain was found face down in water, but was quickly resuscitated by medics. When they realised firefighter Eric Schafer was missing, they combed the rubble in the rain and dark until they found him, crushed under a 500-pound rock. He was a 25-year-old newly-wed.
"If you stopped to think about it you'd never run in," admits Hanna, who refuses to look back at how harrowing a fire may have been. Instead, as the movie he calls "pretty accurate" reflects, comfort is found in the social events their families share, the tight bond of friendship between the men and their impulse to laugh a lot.
"We got a cow up here," someone yells. "We're not even cooking it up. We're just going to eat it." It's dinner time and firefighter Dave Stroup is cooking up a cauldron of spaghetti bolognese for 12 hungry men.
"Having dinner together makes this firehouse a home away from home," says Lt Michael Meyers. It's a rowdy home, where the clattering of pots and plates, cutlery and cups mingles with scrambled bits of conversations and riotous laughter.
"The Irish are huge in the Baltimore fire department," shouts Cobo over the racket. "There are generations and generations of them."
"But we can still get you a one-way ticket back to the motherland," someone jokes with Hanna, who's a Gaelic football fan and full back with the Baltimore Bohemians. "The hazing never ends," Hanna sighs.
During dinner they tell prankster stories, such as the time Cobo waxed Lt Colt Carter's seat so that he flew into the dashboard every time he jumped in the truck, or when they tied a sheet to the captain's car so it blew up like a parachute when he hit the highway, or how they unbolted a rookie's bunk and fell around laughing when he collapsed with it to the floor. The stories continue past sunset.
Ladder 49 is showing in cinemas now
