Possibly a bit sombre for the ‘well I never knew that’ thread, but I read a story this week about a firefighter in New York who was killed in the 9/11 attacks.
When I read the background about this guy, I couldn’t believe it, the bravery, determination, courage from this firefighter, it genuinely made me think because when he died, he was the same age as me, 42.
Timmy Stackpole was a 20-year veteran of the FDNY (Fire Department of New York City), had a wife and five kids and was a native of Brooklyn.
Apparently the two things he cherished the most was his family and the fire department. He was legendary amongst his comrades and was known by the nickname ‘Jobs’ because he loved jobs (firefighters refer to a serious fire as a ‘job’).
At a huge Brooklyn apartment house blaze in the summer of 1998, he heard that a woman was trapped inside. Without hesitation, he and two colleagues did what firefighters do: they ran into the flames to save someone.
While the three firefighters were inside, the floor collapsed without warning. “My whole body was trapped up to my neck,” Stackpole said in an official report. “The fire was still roaring all around us … I remember the excruciating pain in my ankles, burned to the bone. And I remember just praying to God: Just let me die bravely.”
Stackpole and his colleagues, Lt. James Blackmore and Capt. Scott LaPiedra, were trapped in the fire for almost a half-hour. “I had this tremendous sadness that I wasn’t going to see my children again, growing up, walking my daughter down the aisle,” he says.
Thirty-four of his colleagues put their own lives at risk to save the three men. They got them out, but Blackmore died at the scene. Stackpole and LaPiedra were rushed into ambulances with terrible burns. Sadly, LaPiedra didn’t make it and Stackpole suffered burns to over 40% of his body. For 66 days this brave man fought unimaginable pain, learnt to walk again, against all the odds came back stronger.
He could have retired from the Fire Department with a substantial pension, he could have opted for a desk job, but Lt. Stackpole chose to go back to the frontline and in March of 2001 he was back riding fire engines.
A few months later, September to be exact, he was promoted to Captain, the pinnacle of his career, a milestone after everything he’d been through to overcome his injuries.
He was assigned to the busy Truck 103 in Brooklyn and his first day as a Captain was Monday 10th September.
On Tuesday 11th September he responded to the World Trade Centre and had just managed to exit the towers when it collapsed, and he was killed.
You read about a person like him and your own problems pale into insignificance.
As I say, I found it a sad but fascinating story about a man who in my opinion had balls of absolute steel.
