By Karen “Kiki” Kruse

Americans crave heroes, but that is not unique to our land.  Even going back to ancient times, hero worship was prevalent.   The ancient Greeks had their tragic heroes, including such figures as Hercules, who was legendary for his strength and courage.

A little closer to home, we’ve had war heroes since the beginning of our history.  In Colonial times, we had patriots such as John Paul Jones, who fought for our freedom during the Revolutionary War, and Andrew Jackson, who defended New Orleans against the British during the War of 1812.  Both were considered heroes of their day.

Throughout the history of the United States at war, we have honored our heroes with the Congressional Medal of Honor.  Every recipient embodies the spirit of heroism.  Joe McCarthy, was a truckman on Truck 11 of the Chicago Fire Department before becoming a captain in the Marine Corps.  On February 21, 1945, during WWII, he aggressively lead the attack and capture of a Japanese stronghold on Iwo Jima, earning him the Medal of Honor.  Retired from the military as a colonel, he returned home, fully expecting to resume his firefighting career where he left off.

This is the character of a hero.  He does what he has to, then moves on.  When Joe returned home, he was instantly promoted to Director of Ambulance Services.  In that role, McCarthy revamped the entire ambulance service of the Chicago Fire Department, making it one of the largest and most efficient organizations in the nation.  He is the only firefighter to ever be honored with our Medal of Honor.

It is when we are without real heroes that we create them.  Such can be said for the comic-book heroes – making everything right, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way.  We have a need to believe good triumphs over evil.  After all, isn’t that what this country is all about?   Captain America, Spiderman, and the current X-Men, among others, have all defended our freedom and stood for the “right” principles.  Mild-mannered Clark Kent becomes Superman, embodying what we all hope we can become if called upon.   In his persona as Clark Kent he goes to work like the rest of us.  After he finishes his job as Superman, he goes back to his life as the quiet newspaper reporter, Clark Kent.  He never expects anything, yet he continues to do his job the best way he can.  It tells our collective unconsciousness we can do it, too.

Now, of course, our definition of a hero is changing.  It’s the person who does more with less and is often overlooked.   It’s the lady down he block who is an ICU nurse and hold the hand of a frightened child going into surgery.  It’s the disabled person who, because of needed medication, only has two of every three days to function, but still finds the time to research, write, and publish stories of Korean War veterans who have won our Medal of Honor.  It’s the health-care worker who cares for our grandmothers at the local nursing home.  These are only a few of our modern-day heroes.  They unselfishly give of themselves for the well-being of others.

We are still looking for the guy who can save us from the evils of the world, but now we realize, maybe for the first time, he’s living next door.  We suddenly recognize the everyday as heroic.  He’s the guy who works at the local firehouse.  Unless familiar with the fire services, most people didn’t give him a second thought until now.  He was no more than a public servant, there to be called if needed.

Police officers are known in every city as their “finest.”  Firefighters, by contrast, have always been referred to in this country as the “bravest.” It is no accident these special angels ran into the World Trade Center to help when they were needed, not giving a second thought to their own safety.   This is what they do.  They are heroes, every one of them, every day.  Sadly, it took the events on September 11^th for the world to finally realize it.

We’ve had firefighters for a long time, but most people don’t realize it.  Centuries ago, a courageous band of crusaders known as the Knights of St. John fought a group called the Saracens for possession of the Holy Land.  When these crusaders advanced to the walls of the city, the Saracens threw glass bombs filled with naphtha at the invading army.  As the knights became saturated with this highly flammable liquid, the Saracens would hurl a flaming torch into their midst.  This caused the knights to burst into flame, sure to die an excruciating death.  Sympathizers to the crusaders ran into this inferno often trying in vain to save the crusaders from this horrible, fiery end.  They were revered as heroes and our first brave firefighters. 

With the nation now appreciating our firefighters a bit more, perhaps the best way to conclude this tribute to our heroes is with the poem below.  It has appeared in Ann Landers’ column several times over the years, but unfortunately the author is unknown.

What is a Fireman?

He’s the guy next door – a man’s man with the memory of a little boy.

He never got over the excitement of engines and sirens and smoke and danger.

He’s a 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 puts it all on the line when the bell rings.

A fireman is at once the most fortunate and the least fortunate of men.

He’s a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death.

He’s a gentle man because he has seen too much of the awesome power of violent forces out of control.

He’s responsive to a child’s laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again.

He’s a man who appreciates the simpler pleasures in life… hot coffee held in numbed, unbending fingers… the flush of fresh air pumping through smoke-and-fire convulsed lungs… a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling… the camaraderie of brave men… the divine peace of selfless service and a job well done in the name of all men.

He doesn’t wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities.

When he marches, it is to honor a fallen comrade.

He doesn’t preach the brotherhood of man.

He lives it.

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Karen "Kiki" Kruse is the author of "A Chicago Firehouse: Stories of Wrigleyville's Engine 78."  For further information, or to contact the author, please visit:  www.achicagofirehouse.com.  Plus, she is a friend of mine!