GLORY DAYS

JohnnyGage said:
?GORY?  DAYS; Preamble

Sometime back in the spring of 1978 I filled out an application for NYC Emergency Medical Services Health and Hospital Corp as an ?Ambulance Corpsman?, an Emergency Medical Technician. I was hired that summer and assigned to the Liberty Outpost in East New York, Brooklyn. The NYC EMS was operated solely by Health and Hospitals (H&H) and not affiliated with the FDNY at that time. I worked for NYC EMS thirteen months before my next appointment  as a firefighter for the Washington DC Fire Department. But... BIG BUT!...I?m amazed at what I witnessed and experienced... to this day the memories still seem a surreal mix of fact and fantasy. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to take meticulous notes** when I got in the field, and if I did not write these notes in my own handwriting, I would doubt myself.

You have read on these forums exciting and stirring recollections from the FDNY and NYPD  ?War Years?. I hope to give you a small inside scoop...the skinny... of a NYC Health and Hospitals Corpsman's point of view from the back of the ambulance, or what New York City Cops and Fireman call; ?the Bus? during that turbulent period.

Caveat; Even though the above title is expressive, I?ll have to reserve a handful of anecdotes that even within the description would be to ugly and revealing...But, stay tuned... I have quite a few intriguing occurrences to which I made notes of and I think you will find very amusing.

(**Notes. I was told very early on from my EMS Supervisor that I should keep notes, just in case I would have to go to court. I bought a green pocket size 3x5? 100 page spiral notepad. The pad has sixteen lines per page. With the exception of allowing one space between each tour I worked, I compiled over 130 front and back pages of ?job? entries with a small note of any unusual circumstances pertaining to that job. Each tour, I listed the date, time, weather and my partner. Below that entry would be the time, address, and disposition of the run. The date of my last entry was 8/1/79)

                                                                  **********

I should also point out that 69Mets Garrett and I shared a midnight-eight tour at Liberty Outpost together in a bus on Saturday, July 21, 1979. Garrett and I responded to six jobs; a collision, 2 different stabbings, an OBS maternity, sick and injured call. All logged into my notepad!

Memorymaster has a history with EMS. I invite Garrett and Charlie to jump in with some of their stories! It will make for some very compelling reading from a different time and service. Hope you enjoy!



Click to expand...

Dan, I THANK YOU for introducing the guys to your days of working within the NYC EMS Health and Hospitals before the days of the FDNY/EMS merger.

Without a doubt these NYC War Years Hero's saved thousands of lives every single day. Yet they were NEVER recognized for the work they did. Just as the FDNY and NYPD was overwhelmed during those 1970s and 1980s, so TRUE was also the NYC EMS.

I would see those ambulances going by and at so many calls. Very often the conversation between myself and other fire buffs would be; "What a THANKLESS JOB THAT IS". Many of us were also firefighter/EMTs and could relate in our own very small way, of what it must be like to ride and work those NYC Health and Hospital "BUSES". Seeing those ambulances in the street was like seeing a taxi cab in some of our smaller cities these days. They just pass by with no concerns from the population.

I remember doing my fire buffing thing back in the early 80s and myself and another firefighter/EMT were hanging out around Clay/172 St (?) in the Bronx. Both myself and my buddy had just finished taking our first EMT class as we were told it was part of our job requirement as newly hired Probie Firefighters. So everything was fresh in our minds. Airway, Breathing, Circulation, then the secondary body survey. As we are sitting there, a civilian standing on the corner drops to the ground. My buddy says to me; "Willy, the guy across the street just dropped, we got to go check him out". As we go over to check him, he does seem to be breathing, but we don't have a clue what's wrong.

As luck would have it, a NYPD car pulls up. We tell the cops to call an ambulance and that we are Firefighters/EMTs from Connecticut. The cops call and they tell us it's a one hour delay for the bus. Then they open the back door of the police car and they tell us, put him in the back and we'll take him up to Bronx Lebonon Hospital, which is only a few blocks away. So myself and the other guy load him in and off they go. No vitals taken, no oxygen given, just get him up there. We wondered if he'd be okay or not.

After it was over we thought about how different things were in most cities. Even in Connecticut's largest cities like Bridgeport, Hartford or New Haven you could get an ambulance to transport a guy like this to the hospital without having a One Hour delay. A few weeks later we are back down there buffing from the same corner. Standing on that same corner is the same guy who probably had no idea of what had happened only a few weeks ago. So we were glad to see he was okay.

A few years ago, I got to meet "69METS", aka Garrett L., while in Florida where he lives now. He was a part of that NYC EMS, and later became a firefighter in the FDNY like Dan, aka "JohnnyGage", who I also have met and consider a good friend.

I have also been in contact with "memorymaster", aka Charlie T., who became a Lt within that NYC Health and Hospitals EMS, later merging into the FDNY/EMS. Take my word for it, Charlie has quite a resume and there is no doubt "he has seen it all".

Also, before this site owner Tommy Bendick became a firefighter in NYC, "he also worked with the NYC Health and Hospitals EMS".

These days we have guys like "Lebby", aka Phil D., and John Bendick's (site administrator), grandson, John T., out there saving lives just as those before them have. They are the Life Saviors of todays FDNY/EMS. We ALL APPRECIATE the Job "YOU" Do. Thank you guys and all your other Brother and Sister members of the FDNY/EMS as well. YOU are a part of the VERY BEST in OUR Society Today.

And now we take you back to the old NYC EMS days of the Webster Outpost located on Webster Ave, I think around 165th St in the Bronx. It is no longer there, but these are some of their stories. 

This CBS Special was made in 1986 and it was called "The Lifesavers", filmed from that very busy NYC EMS station called "The Webster Outpost". The video runs about 20 minutes.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPfLeYtq7Ks 
 
GORY DAYS; P 2
PESKY PARTNER

Upon our EMS “graduation” which really was not a graduation, I was given an empty black tech bag that actually looked like a wide briefcase similar to what lawyers carried transporting files back and forth to court. Inside the bag was an orange colored stethoscope with a matching orange blood pressure cuff, a yoke for an oxygen cylinder and a maternity “OBS” kit. Oh yeah, a yellow hard hat with EMS stenciled in red on the side to protect my coconut.

The black tech bag was clumsy and inconvenient as every roll of gauze, various sizes of sterile gauze pads, plastic airways and adhesive tape all got jumbled up and tossed around in the bag, nothing remained orderly. It was frustrating to try and find anything you are looking for especially when it had to be done quickly. Also carrying the black bag was dicey, as the local clientele often thought drugs were carried inside. For those reasons, I bought the largest metal fishing tackle box from Morsan’s Outdoor Store. I stocked the body of the tackle box with two boxes of 100 4x4 sterile gauze pads and a few large trauma pads, the double pull out tray holder had different size stretch gauze to wrap the wounds.

My partner tonight is an EMT Corpsman like myself, we were both hired together. His name is Moe, an Ichabod Crane-like character, tall and lanky. We are the same age and like me he is from Long Island, both of us are experiencing this new venture together in ENY. Moe is a bit of a pain in the ass, he is slow, lazy and arrogant. Even though we have the same amount of time on the job, he is condescending. Tonight is going to be a long night, but there is hope, in a few days he will be transferred to the day shift and out of my hair.

Anyway, tonight I take control of our assignments and responses, Moe and I are “roving” the ENY area. The roving protocol is similar to that of police sector cars, you rove in your area until assigned a call or you can ‘hang out’ at a particular location that usually provides a bathroom and coffee. Our hang out location is Pennsylvania Avenue and Liberty Avenue, there is an all night diner on the corner, good for coffee and greasy fries.
ENY is roughly 2 square miles and is bordered by Queens. Four subway lines and the Long Island Railroad traverses through ENY with plenty of stations in between. Major roads intersect and pass through namely the heavily traveled Belt Parkway, Linden Blvd, Pitkin Avenue, Sutter Avenue, Atlantic Avenue, and Fulton Streets, all major east west thoroughfares. The Conduit borders ENY on the eastern end and Pennsylvania Avenue dissects ENY running north and south from the Belt Parkway to Broadway and connecting to the Interboro Parkway.

Our first call came in shortly after midnight just as we came on duty for an ‘active’ maternity on Hemlock Street in the northeastern section of our area near Cypress Hills. The young Mom was brought to Brookdale Hospital without incident. It is a little after 0130 hrs now, and Moe and I are slowly roving the dark and tranquil streets. I catch a glimpse of fire out of the corner of my eye as we stop near Glenmore Avenue, a few blocks down on Essex Street a van is completely ablaze and there is no fire apparatus there yet. For a few minutes the van fire will provide us a little entertainment while the neighborhood seems quiet. I drive the ambulance toward the fire and park a block away awaiting the arrival of FDNY, shortly E 332 whisks by.

Moe and I are watching the troops extinguish the van fire and sort or zoning out, my window is open and my head supported on my raised hand, when out of nowhere a police sector car comes to a screeching halt inches from me. Startled, I just about jumped out of my skin as the police officer on the passenger side sticks his head out of the window of his patrol car and excitedly spits out that two people have been shot a few blocks behind us on Shepherd Avenue. ”Got it!”, I flip the two toggle switches for our emergency lights, one switch for the clear gumball red and white lights on the roof, the other for the four red lights on the ambulance patient cabin, there are no warning lights on the side of the rig. I don’t bother to make a U-turn, I back the rig up the one short block and drive down Shepherd Avenue for two blocks while my partner calls in the “verbal” to Brooklyn CO.

In our headlights we notice two male victims lying in the middle of the street, both appear to be young males. One victim has been shot in the left shoulder and the other one has been shot in the head and hip. Since Joe is the “tech” this tour, he takes the head shot victim and I work on the other shoulder gunshot victim. My victim is conscious but the other guy is not doing too well, it’s close to being lights out. Moe and I work feverishly on our victims and in short order able to stabilize our respective victims quickly, with their wounds wrapped we apply oxygen from a mask to the head shot victim.

I sit my victim on one of the benches in the back of the bus, then Moe and I pulled the stretcher out for the second victim, getting him loaded for the ride to Brookdale Hospital a couple of miles away. I notify the CO by radio that we are bringing in two gunshot victims to Brookdale Hospital with one critical. Linden Boulevard is empty during this time of the morning and I make good time high tailing it. Upon our arrival I sweep the ambulance then back the bus up to the emergency room ramp there is a small cadre of doctors and nurses standing by. The Hospital team takes over and rushes our gunshot victims to the emergency department. Meanwhile Moe and I go about finishing our paperwork and restocking our supplies. A nurse walks by, tells us the headshot victim has died.

Sometime later in the night, we ran into the same cop who screeched up to my door, I told him the victim died. He told us the two victims had just stolen the van, were being chased then set it on fire. Both were shot attempting to run away from it. Street justice metered out in Dodge.

EMS Tech bag

tech bag.png
 
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Hal Bruno (the late national political correspondent for ABC News and Firehouse Magazine columnist) was a big DCFD buff. DCFD Radio was always 'on' in his office at the ABC News Bureau on Desales Street. He told me twenty odd years ago that DCFD was a great department brought low by chiefs brought in from outside the department. Tellingly, it is now DC FEMS.
 
‘GORY DAYS’: P 3; OBS & DOA’s

MATERNITY OBS:

During my time with EMS I responded to numerous ‘OBS/ maternity’ jobs. Although I did not actually ‘catch’ the baby as it was delivered I was on the scene within seconds after three successful deliveries, thankfully a grandma or midwife was present, however I caught the ‘other stuff’, cut the umbilical cord and made sure the baby was breathing. Unfortunately I also responded to many unfortunate miscarriages, particularly one where I retrieved an embryo from the bathroom while the young girl was crying in bed. Below is the log of my delivery assists:

1/2/79, 0700 hrs Sutter Avenue...female baby born.
4/8/79, 0525 hrs Blake Avenue...male baby born.
5/3/79, 0730 hrs Hinsdale Avenue...male baby born

And in case you’re wondering, none of them were named after me, the nerve!

DOA's

DOA’s were not uncommon, especially during my shift. The PD would get to the scene with an obvious DOA, and then we would get the call to pronounce the DOA. Later we’d be called back to retrieve the body after the PD investigation and remove it to Kings County Morgue.

I’m twenty-one years old. During my first week of orientation I have to work the day shift with a veteran female Corpsman who will be training me in EMS procedure, her name is Barbara. She reminds me of Diana Ross of the Supremes. She is very kind, very patient, experienced and has a ton of street sense. One of our first jobs is to respond to a DOA. The PD is on scene of the DOA, code 10-83, at a residence on Wyona Street. This will be the first time that I will have to pronounce someone dead.

Barbara and I arrive at the address, I am the tech and we proceed into the house where there is a middle aged gentleman lying unconscious on the living room sofa. Family members are standing nearby in the kitchen and two police officers are near the victim. My heart is beating rapidly, all eyes are on me. I examine the body, the body is not cold or stiff, apparently the victim must have just passed away not too long ago. I feel for a pulse, and I place my stethoscope over his bare chest. I think I can hear a faint beat.

I gradually stand up so as not to alarm anyone, and ask Barbara to come into the next room so that I can tell her of my observations. She assures me that the victim is deceased, she reassures me that the beating I hear is my blood pressure pulsing in my ears. She also gives me this streetwise tip that I will use over and over again, she tells me to nonchalantly and gently touch the eyeball, as this is the last muscle reflex to leave the body. If the eyelid does not flitter, you can be assured the victim is 10-83. I go back to the victim, use my penlight to examine his eyes and touch the eyeball.The eyeball does not flitter. Confident, I turn to the family and give my condolences, and then turn to the police officer with his pad open, I state; “DOA, Badge 2388”.

******
Tonight is extremely cold, polar bear frigid cold, it is early into the graveyard tour that I work when we receive a job from Brooklyn CO that PD is on the scene of a DOA and we are assigned to go to pronounce the DOA. In NYC a Corpsman has the authority to pronounce someone dead instead of waiting for a rep from the Medical Examiner’s Office. The address is 3143 Atlantic Avenue, a block or so away from the only fast food joint in the neighborhood, a White Castle.

I am working with Hall, the MVO for this tour, all he is responsible for is to drive the ‘bus’ and help me load the stretcher or stairchair, otherwise he has no EMT training whatsoever. Hall is a nice African-American gentleman in his early sixties and he is a Church going man. Sometimes he antagonizes victims that have been shot or stabbed by telling them if they were in church, none of this would happen. I politely ask him to get back behind the wheel, he’s not helping matters, well, maybe times not so politely.

Atlantic Avenue is a main east-west four lane thoroughfare that is divided by an island and goes through the length of Brooklyn including the ENY neighborhood. Upon our arrival there is a police car from the 7-5 parked at the curb in front of a mechanics garage idling with both officers still inside. I leave the heated bus and walk over to the passenger side of the patrol car instantly feeling the biting cold go through the layers of my clothing. The police officer slightly cracks his window just enough to say the DOA is on the other side of the parked car that is parked next to us in the parking lot. With that the police officer closes his window and remains inside his car.

Shining my flashlight beam and illuminating the ground I walk around the parked car, mist coming out of my mouth every time I exhale. My light shines on the ass of a civilian who is on his knees with his ass arched towards me resting on his elbows and looking under the parked car. The DOA must be under the car, I assume. “I got it partner, slide over”, I announce, thinking I’m going to wind up dragging him out. ”Hello”, I said “I got it buddy” and with that I nudged the civilian with my foot. My foot felt like it was nudging a marble statue, the subject I was talking to and trying to nudge is frozen solid. I shined my flashlight into a bluish face that is frozen in a small pool of frozen vomit with his head twisted facing the parked car. He was my DOA, died right there on the spot in the middle of vomiting.

******
There were times that a body was discovered days after it’s death, and of course we would have to pronounce it DOA. I remember walking down the hall and begin to encounter the foul odor of decay, the smell of death. With the first onslaught of this odor, it was time to reach into my tackle box where I kept a small jar of “Vicks, Vaporub” with its medicated vapors. I’d place a small dab under both nostrils to overcome the stench.

Working the graveyard shift there were the early wake up morning calls for “an unconscious” that most often turned out to be DOA’s as people were waking up and discovered their loved ones who passed away during the night. There were more than a few times we received the dreaded early morning assignment of “Unconscious Baby” that often resulted from SIDS; Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I had my fair share of telling young parents that their “sleeping” baby had passed on, a disturbing and uncomfortable distressing moment.

Thanks for reading. KMG-365

emsdan.jpg
Me and MVO Hall
 
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nfd2004 said:
Dan, THANK YOU for all those GREAT STORIES and EXCELLENT PHOTOS of your early riding days with some of the busiest companies of the FDNY. Of course during my buffing days of the Bronx, I'm sure that we were at a few of the same jobs together. 

Reading these stories takes me back to those very busy days of chasing the rigs of E88/L38, E82/L31, E45/L58, and some of those other very busy companies throughout the area. It was an education that you couldn't get from a book.

I look forward to reading about your EMS days coming up. I know at the time it was the NYC EMS before the merge into the FDNY. Like all of the city's services, they were stretched to the breaking point. It was almost impossible to get an ambulance due to the overwhelming number of calls going on. ETA's for EMS units of One Hour were not uncommon due the staggering number of incidents going on.
Click to expand...

Johnny, I'd like to go back to A Glory Day memory of mine that I would like to share with the members here. It certainly wasn't the FDNY but it was in the kitchen of the firehouse that I once worked in around June/July, 1975.

I was a newly hired Probie and young Willy D is working a Day tour at the old fire headquarters on Chestnut St in Norwich, Ct. On this particular day, Willy D gets up a little late but still makes it in time for the 07:00 hours Day Shift to begin. In his hurry, he has no time to eat breakfast so in just a little while, "he's kind of hungry".

The afternoon meal at the firehouse is going to be a pasta/sauce dinner, along with Italian bread/butter etc. The smell of that sauce cooking fills the entire second floor.

But being the junior man and new Probie Firefighter with just a couple of weeks on, I know that I will be the last guy to sit down. My father, a Bridgeport (Ct)Firefighter at the time told me, "that's just the way it is". It was also before the firehouse had a dish washer and he told me as Probie, "it will be your job to clean those pots and pans after the meal".

I finally get to dig in and sit down. I didn't take too much because I didn't think it was my place to do that. As I sit down, there is plenty left over. But I figure it's for the other guys, not for me. But I'm still hungry after eating my portion. Then one of the guys tells me: "if you want more, help yourself". That was just what I wanted to hear, so I load up again, and I think again.

All the guys are pretty much still sitting around the table as I put down a couple more platefuls. Then another guy says to me; "You got some potential". I thought he meant about being a good fireman (firefighter). He said: "I'm betting on you". I later learned he was referring to "when it comes to an eating contest". Telling me I had some potential had NOTHING to do with being a good fireman. BUT, he was right, "I did win a lot of firehouse eating contest". I didn't disappoint the guys too many times.

We now move the clock about 44 years ahead. My brother (also a retired firefighter) and I are at our favorite local restaurant. The waitress is also the sister of one of the current active firefighters, but we hadn't seen her in a long time. But she remembers us from one of our previous visits. She also remembered what I ordered. A chicken palm dinner that is HUGE in size. She was right, that's exactly what I ordered several months ago.

I was amazed that she had remembered that, so I asked her, "how did you remember that" ? She says to me: "I remember that because NOBODY else has ever been able to finish the entire dinner and YOU DID".

Well, I guess as they say: "Some things NEVER change". And I got to tell you, "that is one dinner that you sure won't walk away from hungry".

THANK YOU GUYS. We give it back to "JohnnyGage" to continue with his great stories of "GLORY DAYS" as he has just introduced us to the stories of working the streets in the crime ridden area known as East New York in Brooklyn, during his days with the New York City Health and Hospitals EMS. 
 
I know this is mostly about other facets of FD ops but Willy has peaked "my appetite" with his FH food story.....i am generally not an exceptionally big eater but i will relate a story from yesteryear....we got a new FF in R*2 ...he was a young fellow who came from a nearby "rival" Busy Truck.... he was of course very eager to become accepted & on one of his early days there he volunteered to make lunch..... the menu was "Monte Christo" sandwiches which half of us did not even know what they were....he explained that each one was 3 slices of french toast bread with swiss cheese & turkey & ham ? between the layers then the thing was heated & covered with powdered sugar....it took a little work to make it ...i ate my 1st one & just as he was about to sit down for his first one i asked for another...he said "well in my old house no one could ever eat two....of course i had to reply "this is not your old house i want another"....he gave me the one he had ready for himself & went back to the stove...i ate it & as he was coming back with his first one again i said "let me have another"....(i really did not want another but since he had said nobody could eat two ).... he said you can't eat three...i said this is R*2 not LAD*1XX...give a third....he said if you can eat three i will pay for your meal....now i knew i was going to finish it & i did....1800 & the tour was over....driving home i was little uncomfortable...by dinner time i did not want to even sit at the table...by 2200 hrs i felt like my stomach was going to blast out of my body....these things were expanding exponentially....by midnight i went to bed as i was due back in the AM at the FH...got to the FH & after a few cups of Coffee i checked into "the head" & returned the remains.
 
There are actually 2 versions of the Monte Cristo, Dan.  The one you pictured is the one I'm most familiar with . . . basically a ham & cheese sandwich that is dipped in batter and then deep fried.  Served with powdered sugar and raspberry preserves.  The one Chief JK described is the other version (pictured below).  Maybe a little bit easier to put together, but probably just as good (especially if you add the raspberry jelly), and just as deadly on the digestive system.  As for you, Chief . . . payback's a bitch, ain't it?

1200px-Monte_Cristo_Sandwich-1.jpg


And Willy, stop drooling.  It puts a Big Mac to shame any day.
 
My top three favorite sandwiches while OTJ;

3: During 9/11 recovery stage days at the WTC there was a "volunteer" walking around the pile with a satchel of P&Js that a scout organization put together with the jelly weeping through the white bread just like my school days. The P&J was perfect and delicious and not a moment too soon!
2: Jimmy Amato (RIP 9/11) covered a day tour in L 112. We broke down sausages from their casings, pressed them together to make patties. He had a home made type mayo slathered on a seeded bun, fresh romain lettuce, lightly squeezed lemon and raw onion. Outrageous.
1: Early 90's the city and FD brass was making radical changes to the FDNY including closing down fire companies...in protest thousands of off duty firefighters wearing turnout coat and helmet walked across the Brooklyn Bridge from Brooklyn to Manhattan in protest. When we arrived on the other side the protest disbursed and we headed straight to the local gin mill. One guy ordered liverwurst on rye with bacon, raw onion touch of mustard...soon there were twelve more orders. Good buddies, cold draft and that glorious sandwich... as close to a little slice of heaven I would ever know!


 
‘GORY DAYS’; P 4 “SHOOT ‘EM UPS”

I usually started my graveyard tour by cleaning out the back of the bus providing the Brooklyn CO was not holding any calls at the time, during the weekend it was not uncommon for the CO to be holding less severe calls for two hours. While I went about sprucing up the back of the bus, the MVO would check the fluids in the vehicle. With a bucket of ammonia and water the first task was to remove the stretcher and wipe down the three leather benches. The ammonia mixture to water was strong enough to bring teardrops to your eyes. One bench was against the driver side wall that had a small sliding window above it, the second bench was up against the front of the rig with a small sliding window to talk with the driver and the third bench was the long bench that sat alongside the stretcher with storage below it. After the seats I’d wipe down the cabin walls and finally swab out the back of the bus.

With regards to “holding calls”, oftentimes the CO would advise us he was holding multiple calls, some at least for two hours. It was no picnic to finally arrive at an address confronting some mighty angry threatening neighbors.

The back of the bus held a stretcher with a small spinal backboard underneath, hung on the cabin side door was the stair chair. Unless you were unconscious, couldn’t amble or seriously injured, you were strapped into and transported in the stair chair and if you could walk, you walked and sat on the small bench seat with the window above. The stretcher only came out if you were DOA, unconscious or severely injured.

There was a large cabinet over the stretcher with four clear plexiglass doors. The small compartments were haphazardly stocked and jammed with small splints, 4x4 gauze pads and various size rolls of gauze thrown in in no special order. The compartments were so disorganized that nobody really used the supplies, the clear plastic doors had no latches or
handles. The doors were held closed by using adhesive tape. I can’t tell you how many times rounding a corner the adhesive tape would become unglued and the contents of the storage would spill out into the back of the bus.

Concerning patients, the rule of thumb was that any routine patient sick or with a survivable injury would be transported to the nearest receiving hospital, Brookdale. In my judgement, those who were critical I’d shoot for Kings County Hospital a little further away that had a more suitable Emergency Department.

In my arsenal first aid kit I kept large trauma pads on top with 2 boxes of 4x4 gauze pads and variety sized rolling gauze from 2” to 6”. Also kept very handy was a box of Glad Leaf Bags.

Drunks, overdoses and the common sick mortal sat on the small bench, if they were likely to spew their stomach contents I plucked out a leaf bag from my first aid kit, made a hole in it and slipped it over their head. When it became that magic moment I’d hold up the front end of the bag for the delivery. Drunks and overdoses were transported to a small hospital called Lutheran, where the staff usually had to wake up the attending physician.

Calls for a mentally disturbed person were taken to Kings County usually accompanied by a Police Officer in the back of the bus to a facility called “G Building” that accepted them. DOAs were taken to the Kings County Morgue. Imagine, visiting the Kings County Morgue on the graveyard shift!

2909 FULTON STREET; 2 SHOT

We are 53 minutes into a clear and cool Monday morning. I am working with a new partner that has worked for EMS many years, he has recently transferred to Liberty Outpost from Kings County Hospital and is a highly respected veteran of EMS, his name is Lawrence. Right now, our assignment is to pronounce two bodega store owners DOA who have been brutally gunned down at close range by numerous shotgun blasts.

Apparently two bodega owners got into a beef with local gang members who waited outside the rear entrance then ambushed them with blasts at close range when the store owners opened the back door. The PD investigation is about to start and I enter the tight vestibule to a horrific site, the vestibule has a swampy stench of blood and I cuff up my pants before entering to pronounce the two bloodied bodies blown away. Later that morning we are called back to remove the bodies to the Kings County Morgue.

IN FRONT OF 329 NEW LOTS AVE; SHOOTING

Clearing up our last job, the graveyard tour almost over I’m working with MVO Hall and returning from Brookdale Hospital, we will be going home soon. Downstairs of Brookdale Hospital the cafeteria in the morning has a splendid buffet breakfast of pancakes, eggs, omelettes, ham, sausage, you name it. And the price is right, for EMS personnel there is no charge. Hall and I load up a styrofoam container of breakfast to take back to the Liberty Outpost to devour. There is only a few minutes left on our shift and we’ll be able to eat comfortably and peacefully.

Cruising down New Lots Avenue I notice a large dead black rottweiler laying on the sidewalk that was shot. Not unusual to see in this town. We hang a left turn onto Pennsylvania Avenue and closing in on the Outpost and breakfast. “Brooklyn to Liberty 374 K”. I responded “Liberty 374 K”. “Liberty 374, Man Shot front of 329 New Lots at Georgia Avenue”.

Hall and I looked at each other, “no way, that’s the dog”, we just drove by five minutes ago. Streetwise protocol was to wait for a confirmed shooting from the PD or at least make sure PD was on scene. Since we just drove by the site and did not see anything, we whip the bus around and respond back to the location. On the sidewalk is a man shot and writhing in
pain, the dead dog is not too far away. Grabbing my first aid kit from the back of the bus I start a quick assessment of bullet entry and exit and begin to treat the victim while awaiting the arrival of the PD. While preparing to bandage the shooting victim I hear a voice behind me, the voice speaks clearly and deliberately next to my ear; “Yo my man, if I wanted him to live I wouldn’t have shot him”. I don’t budge or turn around, pretending to ignore the voice, and realize the monumental mistake of not waiting for PD confirmation and letting my guard slip. Just then, out of the corner of my eye I spot the sector car from the 7-5 pulling up. The voice behind me is now gone. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I made a mistake, and one I would never make again. Street protocol was for us to wait for a “confirmed” shooting from PD, or at least hang out nearby and wait until they arrived.

The egg breakfast got tossed. Thanks for reading! KMG-365

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This is the address today on Fulton St, the vestibule where double homicide took place is the rear door under the "tax" awning.
 
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