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(This
is the speech given by Penny McGlachlin at the
Cook’s Corner Fire Station in Brunswick, Maine
on July 15th, 2006 for the dedication of the new
Station and the memorial in which “The Fireman’s
Prayer” is inscribed.)
Alvin William Linn earned the name “Smokey” when
he was 15, by running into his Grandfather’s burning
barn, and driving out his Model T truck. He and
the truck made it out in one piece, but the seat
of his pants were smoking. This must have been
a sign of things to come, because it wasn’t the
last time he would charge into a burning building.
When I was about 4, I thought my Grandfather was
born a fireman and that he lived at the station,
and occasionally he would visit us at Grandmother’s
house. I learned a few things on my visits to
the station, one of them being if you walk in
front of a truck that is being cleaned, someone
will inevitably hit the siren button (just to
see how high you’ll jump). My Grandfather became
one of the first Red Cross instructors in Wichita
to teach and certify people for C.P.R. and First
Aid. I was the only 8 year old in my school that
was certified in both, whether I wanted to be
or not.
I’ve learned a lot about my Grandfather since
he left us two years ago. My Grandmother has told
me many stories that Grampa never told anyone,
such as his time in the Coast Guard during WWII,
on a ship in the North Atlantic that was hit by
a torpedo from a Japanese submarine. He was one
of the few survivors. But most stories were about
what had happened on the job. After each shift,
he would come home and tell his family about the
runs he had been on. Some were more difficult
than others.
A.W. “Smokey” Linn wrote “A Fireman’s Prayer”
after he had been at a call involving children
trapped in a burning apartment building. The firefighters
could see the children in the windows but could
not rescue them due to the iron bars that the
apartment owner had installed. All they could
do was try to contain the fire.
About 1 in the morning, he found himself sitting
at the station’s kitchen table, putting into words
the emotions inside of him from that evening.
The following words are one man’s prayer to his
Lord and Savior, from a man who was more than
a fireman. He was a husband, father, and a son
who knew how precious and short life can be. This
was his prayer:
A
FIREMAN'S PRAYER
When I am called
to duty, God, whenever flames may rage;
Give me strength to save some life, whatever be
its age.
Help me embrace a little child before it is too
late,
Or save an older person from the horror of that
fate.
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout,
And quickly and efficiently to put the fire out.
I want to fill my calling and to give the best
in me,
To guard my every neighbor and protect his property.
And if, according to my fate, I am to lose my
life;
Please bless with your protecting hand my
children and my wife. . -- Author A.W. "Smokey"
Linn
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FIREMAN'S WIFE'S PRAYER
The table's set, the meal's prepared, our guests will
soon arrive,
My husband once more disappears with a hope of keeping
a child alive. While waiting at home alone, our plans
having gone awry,
My first impulse is merely to sit right down and cry.
But soon again I realize the importance of my life,
When I agreed to take on the duties of being a fireman's
wife.
While there are many drawbacks, I'll take them in my
stride,
Knowing "My Daddy saved a life" our children can say
with pride.
The gusting winds and raging flames may be his final
fate,
But with God's help I can remain my fireman's faithful
mate.
-- Author Unknown
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WHAT
IS A FIREMAN?
He's the guy next door, a mans man with the memory of
a little boy. He's never gotten over the excitement
of the engines and sirens and danger. He's the guy like
you and me with warts and worries and unfilled dreams.
Yet he stands taller than most of us. He's a fireman.
He put's it on the line when the bell rings. A fireman
at once the most fortunate and the least fortunate of
men. He's a man who saves lives, because he's 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 held too many
small bodies that will never laugh again. He's a simple
man who enjoys the simple pleasure's in life hot coffee
held in numb, unbending fingers a warm bed for bone
and muscle compelled beyond feeling. The camaraderie
of brave men and the devine peace and selfless service,
of a job well done. He doesn't wear buttons or wave
flags or shout obscenities. When he marches its to honor
a fallen comrade. He doesn't preach the brotherhood
of man He lives it. -Author Unknown
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