"Fire", My older sister screamed as she jerked back the covers and got us out of bed. "The house is on fire. We've got to get out"
I was 11 years old when our house burned down. The year was 1939. My Dad and baby brother died in that fire. Glen, nine months old at the time, died the next day not from burns but from smoke inhalation. Dad died 3 days later, his body burned black.
I woke up to a house full of smoke. Our bedroom was on the second floor of this old wooden farmhouse. I and my three brothers slept in this room. Dad, Mom and the baby slept across the hall in the other upstairs room. My three sisters slept in the downstairs bedroom.
The sound of the fire rushing up the stairway was frightening. The smell was acrid and I could already feel the heat from the fire downstairs. We all rushed out the door onto the porch roof to temporary safety. The girls and my mother shinnied down the porch posts and took the twins, now three or four years old, as I handed them down from the roof. My brother Leonard and I jumped off the roof edge to the yard below. I remember how bad my feet hurt when I hit the ground.
All of us were out but Dad and the baby. We could see through the front window into the burning house. My dad was crawling around on the floor, apparently blinded by the flames. I could see him feeling his way around searching for the baby who was sitting in a high chair. He was just a few feet from Dad's fingertips. But daddy turned the other way and we lost sight of him in the flames.
My older sister found a brick and broke the window glass intending to go in and get the baby. Mother grabbed her and held her back for fear the roof would cave in. My little sister then jumped through the window and rescued baby Glen from the fire. LaVerda's hair was burned so bad they had to cut it all off and let it grow in again. She had other burns too but she was a hero that day and for a long time after. I still think of her as a hero, she was afraid of nothing and thought only of the baby's life. We all called to Daddy that the baby was safe and he must have heard us.
While Mother and the girls cared for the baby I ran around the house to the back door just as Daddy came crawling out of the fire. What was left of his clothes were still on fire and his body was burned black and cracked like an alligator's skin. I was about to find out what kind of a man my Dad really was. He never cried out or groaned. He just took control of the situation like he felt no pain.
After asking if we got the baby out of the house he told me; "Billy, go get a blanket and put out the fire on my clothes." I said; "I can't, daddy, the house is on fire" He said;"there is a blanket in the truck, go get it and put out these flames." I did.
Then he said; "Billy, Get me a drink of water." I said; "I can't, daddy, the house is on fire". He said; "Find a tin can, get some water from the horse tank and bring it to me." I did.
He said; "Get in the truck and go get help." I said; "I can't, daddy, there's no water in the radiator." (We always drained the radiator in cold weather to keep it from freezing)
He said; "We did not drain it last night, get in the truck and go get help."
My sister jumped in the truck with me, we did just as he said and found help. That is the last time I ever got to talk to my dad. He died before I got a chance to see him again but I will never forget that last conversation with my dad. He taught me a lesson in those last 10 minutes that I will never forget. "I can do it if I have to". "I will never again say "I can't".
Sometimes I wonder if he was preparing me for the job I had ahead of me. I was my father's oldest boy left at home. It became my job to take care of Mother and my younger sister and brothers. Mom and I did it along with help with my older siblings not living at home. I hope Daddy can see us from heaven and I hope he is pleased with the way I handled the job he gave me to do.
I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A MAN LIKE MY DAD.
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