8:30 A.M.
On shift back at Consumnes.
FIREFIGHTERS CALL THEM “challenge coins.”
Like military insignias, law enforcement patches, or wedding rings, these coins, the size of a 50-cent piece, bearing your department name and logo, have a lot of significance among us firefighters.
They express our brotherhood, “We have your back. We are in this together. Whatever you need. We are family.”
Sometimes receiving one as a token of appreciation means “You did a good job, man. We’re proud of you” or even “Hey, the drinks are on me.”
I have a special challenge coin. And, of course, there is a story behind how I came to receive this particular one.
Monday morning, the day that Jayann, Heather, and I were expected to be released from the Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center, Captain Brad Warr and his 16-year-old son came to see us. Going up to reception, Brad asked, “Could you tell me what floor Brian Brown is on?”
The receptionist, with media sneaking in, was fully prepared to be the roadblock of security. She responded, “I am sorry. There is no one by that name here at the hospital.”
Surprised, Brad figured, “Okay. Because of the media, they are using a different name.” He gave it another try. “I am with Nampa Fire Department. I ran the ground operations on the rescue yesterday. We just wanted to say hello to Brian and his family.”
That went over like a flat tire. Suddenly, a security guard appeared, a guy who looked like he was having a tough day. He said in no uncertain terms, “There is no one by that name here.”
Brad tried to reason with him. “I know that they are here. I just want to see them. Can you just call up…?”
“Sir, you need to leave.”
Just then, another man approached. “I am sorry to interrupt. You were with Nampa Fire on that rescue yesterday. I am with the Owyhee County Sheriff’s Office. I was at the dispatch center while you were on the mountain. I heard your voice on the radio. What’s going on?”
“Well, they are not letting us see Brian.”
Officer to officer, the deputy tried also to reason with the guard. “He was there yesterday.”
No good. And it was getting testy. “Sir, there is no one here by that name. You need to leave now or we are going to call the police.”
Calm down. Fine. No problem. Brad walked out of the hospital with his son and the deputy. Once outside, the deputy spilled the beans, “They are on the eighth floor.”
“Thanks.” Brad called the eighth floor switchboard and spoke with the charge nurse, explaining who he was. “Yes. Just come up,” she said. “He wants to see you.”
Just then, Deputy Chief Doug Strosnider showed up, neither firefighter knowing that the other one was coming to the hospital. Together, the three of them got to the eighth floor without any trouble.
When I saw my brother firefighters walk into my room, men who had done so much to get my family and me off the mountain, sure, I got emotional. Memories flooded back, because when Nampa Fire showed, I felt reassured, being a firefighter myself. “Okay. Everything is rolling now. I don’t quite know how yet, but we are going to get out of here.”
There I was, my head bandaged up, looking like I had gotten kicked in the forehead by a horse with Doug and Brad acting like brothers, giving me such a hard time.
During the rescue, Doug, Ted Hardy, and a few others from Nampa Fire had ended up on a four-wheeler that got them on the wrong side of the ridge. Funny thing. The misdirection actually turned out for the good. Certified as a flight medic, Ted also flew on his days off for an HEMS outfit out of Elko, Nevada. When the firefighters reached the LZ, Doug worked his way down to the crash site while Ted along with Chief Malott stayed at the top to assist with patient transfer.
Turned out that, due to the shifting of crews, ASL was short a flight medic when Heather got to the LZ. Jeff Weize, the ASL nurse there, nabbed Ted, saying to the pilot, “I know Ted. He is flight certified. I have worked with him before. He has an active certification.”
Two seconds later, “We’re taking him with us.” Cool. Had Ted not been available, Heather would have been on the mountain longer. Just another example of responders in community using their heads and working together to get the job done.
Hiking down to the crash site, Doug’s focus was on his rescuers. Did they have what they needed? How were they holding up? Then, discovering I was a firefighter, there was the instant response of being there for my family and me. Something that few people outside of firefighting understood.
That generosity continued with his visit to us in the hospital. Doug offered my family and me help with anything we needed. “Do you need a car? How are you going to get back to California? Do you have a place to stay? You and your family can stay at my home, if you need it. I also have a vehicle.”
There is no other career like firefighting. We are family to each other.
You call 911 and firefighters come out. Many times, they will put their own lives on the line, willing to die to save your life. We are people who will go to exceptional lengths to care for those we don’t know and will never see again, all the while having the time of our lives. Believing in what we do. And in each other.
After a few minutes, the guys were about to leave. That’s when Brad reached into his wallet and pulled out something. A Local 804 challenge coin. With the Nampa Fire Department logo on it.
“I have probably carried this around for ten years. So that you will always remember Nampa Fire. That we were there for you and will always be. Here. You sure earned this one, brother.”
Tears rolled down my face. I couldn’t help it. Once again, in the worst experience of my life, I had been given expressions of caring, comfort, and heroism.
The TODAY show has come and gone. My family is no longer hounded by the media or by telling the story over and over again. Our wounds have healed, our hearts becoming whole, and that scar around my forehead, well, it has made me “better than normal.” I have even started flying again and I hope, someday, will get a LIMA 2.
A day doesn’t pass without me thinking about the crash and the people who came to our rescue there on Turntable Mountain. And I become grateful. For my family. For the kindness of strangers. And for God who was there.
How could something so awful turn out to be so good?
Our plane hit the trees in a way that slowed us down. LIMA belly flopped but stayed intact. Dancing Queen. Cell phone coverage in a place no one would have anticipated. We were hurt but alive. Yes. This was divine intervention. God had answered our prayers, putting His angels on our wings.
He showed up in our moment of greatest need. In the voice of Lori Collins. In the persistence of Scott Prow. In the confidence of Brad Warr. In the words of Jeremy Elliot. In the compassion of Robert Toronto. In the comfort of Ruth Goldthwaite. In everyone, including the many strangers, who played a part in saving our lives—even those kind, willing folks from Emmett, Idaho, who shoveled snow for the rescue vehicles.
God was in the midst of them with a huge smile on His face, carrying rescue gear and having the time of His life.
As a man, husband, father, firefighter, and child of God, I have come to realize something significant. My heavenly Father was not upset, disappointed, or angry with me over the choices I had made on that Memorial Day weekend. Before time began, He knew that I was going to make each one of them.
Rather, like a father being with his son as he acted like a man, He was proud of what I accomplished on that mountain, having already been in the midst of my lifetime’s worth of decisions. Moreover, He was there with me, even though I was not a praying sort of man.
When the crisis hit, I knew what to do. I was a skilled firefighter with decades of experience in emergencies. I was a trained pilot who knew exactly what to do when a plane stalls. I was your Average Joe who happened to love rescue survival shows. A guy who liked being prepared, so much so that he had an iPhone with a strobe app.
I am a man who has been humbled by his own shortcomings. I understand now from firsthand experience what it is like to be helpless and needing a rescue.
Still, I have come to the place of letting go of my guilt over what I “should have done” or “would have done” because it has been dealt with on the cross by Jesus Christ. I can give this to Him because He has already paid the price for my redemption. No longer do I need to carry the past on my shoulders. Instead, I can get right back up into that wild blue yonder. Happy. Free. Enjoying the life that God has given me.
Brian and Jayann
No. God is not frowning. In fact, He is pretty pleased because He created me to rescue people in need.
He has made men and women like me to do noble, heroic work, showing His love, compassion, and care to the hurting and suffering…to helpless, vulnerable people in desperate need of a rescue…just like we were on that day on that mountain.
That is who God is. That is who we can be. Heroes. Well-loved by God. Those who have been given His challenge coin.