The fire raged while I was in a deep slumber during that frosty October night. I heard about it on the T.V. news that morning. It was a nearby neighbor’s house up the road from mine about a quarter of a mile. An adult and three small kids were its victims on that horrible night. Although, I did not know the family that well, I felt drawn to do something to help, for my son was a classmate of the oldest child, who was only 7, that was killed in the fire with his two siblings. The fire engines were still heading back to the station, while my son and I waited for the school bus that morning, at the end of our driveway. You couldn’t help seeing the fixed sadden faces of those firefighters as they drove by slowly. I thought, then and there, I would try to do what I could to help this family.

The following day, my wife and I gathered up some provisions and clothing and drove up to the burnt remains of what used to be a large two-storied home of a family of six. Not much was left of the structure only half of a brick chimney, some brick steps to the front of the house and the block foundation straining to contain the tons of blackened partitions and rubble scattered in piles everywhere you looked. It had to be a terrible conflagration, observing how trees 70 feet away were seared and burnt. I also saw the bedspring where the children huddled together in their last desperate attempt to escape the consuming flames. I later found out the children could be heard screaming for help, but it was too late to get them out, even though the father had made several attempts. Another adult, who was upstairs was killed trying to get to the room to get them out. A few people were there trying to pick through the destruction and told us the family, the husband, wife and older son, were staying in a trailer that was further down the driveway in the woods. As we ventured down the driveway now walking, because litter and debris was everywhere, we met the wife, at the door. With teary eyes, we hugged her and shook hands with the husband, for he was in considerable pain from burns he received on his back in his futile attempts to save his children. Being pretty much complete strangers to them, we offered what solace and sympathy we could as they related to us the details as to what transpired that awful night. Their faces so worn with tragedy, it was hard to hold back tears as we tried to be strong for them. They wanted to talk, so we listened sympathetically … and their story only got more tragic, as he told us he was just given a pink slip from his job the day before. They lost their young children, all their worldly possessions and he was without work. All they were able to save was a photo of the kids, which his wife intuitively grabbed off a shelf as she fled from the flames and smoke. We bonded with them before we left, and told them where we lived and if they needed anything to contact us, as we lived just down the road from them. We were neighbors.

We attended the funeral, a very modest one, for all the remains of the three children were all buried in the same casket. The adult that was killed had a separate funeral, he was a troubled lad that the husband was working with to help him. It was his cigarette that caused the fire upstairs… but he was also a hero in going back in an attempt to save the children’s lives, he could have gotten out and saved himself. The funeral expenses were paid for by collections from the local townsfolk.

A few days later, he and his father-in –law, surprised me with a visit, still sore from the burns on his back. He wanted to know if I knew anyone with a bulldozer. He needed desperately to get help removing all the debris from the dreadful sight of that standing rubble which once was his home in the woods of Maine. It was too much for his wife to bear seeing, each time they had to drive into or out of their driveway. I quickly thought of my friend, Jim Cobb, who just recently acquired a bull dozer and backhoe, and I gave him a call that day. Jim, was one of the best friends anyone could ever know, his motto was always:
“If you want a friend, BE a friend”. When I called, he already had heard about the fire and agreed to come over to see what could be done. He came over that day and surveyed the amount of destruction, and promptly told me it was too big of a job for one person… we were going to need a lot of help, but leave it to him.

PART 2

WE decided to call the local TV news people and they came over and brought their cameras. We set a date for cleanup for that Saturday as Jim and I were interviewed and made our appeal for volunteers. Jim called as many contractors that he knew in the surrounding towns to get them on board.

Early that Saturday morning I arose and put out signs on the roads to guide in our help. We had no idea of what to expect, for it looked like it was going to be a cold rainy overcast day. Nobody would be paid that day for doing a lot of dirty work, and it was hit or miss if anybody would show. I knew Jim and I would be there, though no matter what. He would be bringing his dump truck and the bulldozer/backhoe. I hurried up the road praying that people would show. As I neared the drive way of the destruction, my eyes welled up, for right along the road, were parked not one, but three 10 wheeler dump trucks and two more inside the property. The contractors came bringing the heavy equipment: frontloaders, 2 dozers and even a log crane. That piece of equipment with its mechanical arm would be the most important machine there. Looking at the logos on the trucks I saw at least 4 different townships. And cars were arriving with lots of hand labor, even a couple of principals came from nearby schools to get their hands dirty that day. Somehow, they were all waiting for me to get started. I took a few minutes and shook hands with them, all big burly guys, and thank them individually, as Jim made the introductions. Then we started,and the whole enterprize got organized on its own. No yelling and no bosses. It was incredible to watch, as the two bulldozens working from opposite sides began pushing the piles of debris to the center, while the powerful claw grabbed and pivoted the load to the waiting convoy of dump trucks. The hand laborers picked up glass, and boards with nails that could have easily caused an expensive flat tire for the participating contractors. Others drove their cars tailgating the trucks to gather up any fallen material that occasional would fall off on the way to the dump. I did a lot of construction work working my way through school, bur I must admit of never seeing such impressive team work. It almost seemed that the whole thing rehearsed. before. I felt so proud of these guys and the volunteers. As the word got around, some of the local stores brought coffee and donuts and three old ladies, who said they were sisters, showed up with sandwiches and homemade cookies. The men wolfed down this nourishment not stopping, for the clouds were going to open up at any moment and drench us.

The husband and wife came out during the cleanup operation. He was too sore to help and she was weeping, so Jim told them you two go back to the trailer or your going to have a lot of grown men crying here and we will probably never finish. The husband then came to me and asked if I would see to it that the brick steps were not damaged in the cleanup effort, and I gave him my word on it, waving off the dozers more than once when they came close. Those two left us to our work. As load after load went out and they were finally scraping the large slab clean, the first drops of cold rain began to fall on us, spattering the soot and black ashes all around. Then the floodgates opened. The heavy rain was washing those steps clean of ash and grime as i stood there being soaked. I later discovered that those steps had meaning for him, because his kids helped to build them.

Those steps are still there and form the entrance to the new house he built, and when you go into his house the first thing that catches your eye is that photo of his precious children on the wall, the only thing they were able to save, that terrible day.