Windmill Point’s last hurrah is an instructive one

“Everybody goes home . . . whole,” Nags Head Fire Chief Kevin Zorc told almost 80 firefighters who had assembled at Station 16 before Saturday’s 9 a.m. training burn of the abandoned Windmill Point Restaurant.

The firefighters had come from across the county, as far north as Duck and as far west as Mann’s Harbor, south to Chicamacomico on Hatteras.

Zorc is passionate in his advocacy of training and proper manpower. If the public can get one message from the event, he said, it’s “the more personnel you have on the scene early, the easier damage mitigation becomes.”

He was more correct than he knew. The structure was almost fully engulfed within about nine minutes of the fire being set, and about 15 minutes into the exercise, crews had succeeded in “almost knocking down the fire too much.”

“There are not many opportunities for all of the county departments to work and train together,” Zorc said.

The fire would put a useful end to what had been a fixture on the Nags Head soundfront for more than 30 years. Starting out as a store with a functioning windmill in the late 1970s, the building later become Windmill Point Restaurant and the S.S. United State Lounge. It featured artifacts from the liner that set trans-Atlantic speed records.

I counted at least nine major pieces of firefighting equipment on site, from pumper trucks to extended ladder and nozzle units directing “elevated master streams” on the blaze. Coordination was required on several levels — radio communications, staging and setting up the equipment to best handle the fire and rotating units so every fire team” had a hands-on opportunity” to battle a fully involved large structure.

A rehab area was set up, manned by EMS teams, and fire fighters took mandatory breaks to rest, take in fluids and then return to action.

Sitting in the command post, one also began to understand the necessity for such training, especially where the safety of firefighters are concerned. As units checked in on “arrival,” the command post had to gather the names and number of personnel in each unit. At regular intervals, unit commanders were required to check in and report not only a team headcount, but their whereabouts. At all times, command knew if anyone was unaccounted for.

The crews had to designate certain radio channels for specific uses, and they were required to adopt uniform terminology relative to the geography of the building,  with fighting divisions named Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta.

As some firefighters battled the blaze on the front lines, others were required to man the pumpers, responding to radio calls for more or less water pressure and reporting on the status of their equipment. Other firefighters tended the hose lines, quickly locating and tightening leaky connections to maintain full pressure. Ladder units had to coordinate with manned hoses, not only to direct their water flow to various hot spots, but to avoid directing their flow on those firefighters on the ground.

While watching, and even feeling, the intensity of a fire was spectacular, especially for spectators gathered to the south of the burn, it was also revealing. As the wind picked up from the south, it became obvious how quickly a fire can spread. The flashover effect was also noted.

Two or three spots along the roof or on a lower floor would billow light smoke for a few minutes, then suddenly join and erupt into fireballs engulfing large portions of the building. Light smoke would turn dark and visibility dropped to almost zero as the fire touched various parts of the building made up of different materials — everything from roof shingles, PVC, flooring and, one supposes, old grease and other embedded chemicals as the fire consumed the old kitchen area.

But Saturday’s fire wasn’t the old building’s only contribution to mutual training. As part of College of The Albermarle’s fire and rescue program, units from the county had conducted numerous training sessions inside the building during the weeks leading up to the burn.

Firefighters, often with blacked out visors, were trained in “real life, real stress” situations as Zorc called them. Temporary walls were erected and normal exits blocked. Crews had to learn how to make their own escape routes by breaching those walls.

Wiring, pipes and insulation can become exposed in a real fire and can easily entangle and trap a firefighter. Extraction methods were employed, and crews learned to practice the two plus two method of firefighting — for every two firefighters inside a building, two more remain outside and in communication, ready to help. The firefighters also practiced window bailouts from the upper floor, as well as drag-and-carry methods.

Zorc said crews learned some hard lessons, and in some cases had there been an actual fire, casualties would have likely resulted. Thus, these “save your own” practice sessions were seen as equally, if not more valuable than the actual firefighting Saturday.

Saturday’s events began to wind down about three hours after the fire began, and all of the units worked seamlessly, a remarkable occurrence given how infrequently these departments ever have a chance to work together.

Zorc pronounced the event a success, but also wanted us to relate one more time that the more manpower and units, the quicker a fire can be put down.

Following that line of thought, Zorc wanted to encourage our readers to consider work as a volunteer firefighter — something he feels any town or region can also use in abundance.

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