Sometimes, you make a decision that even you can’t explain — but in 2022, I found myself doing just that.

For most of my life, I’d wanted to serve in some way, though I wasn’t exactly sure how. At one point, I even dreamed of joining the military, and still feel a hint of regret for not giving it a shot. ‘Volunteer more’ always made its way onto my New Year’s resolutions, but it seemed more like one of those vague ideas I’d get around to ‘someday.’

Then COVID-19 hit, and I realized quickly that I didn’t have a single skill the world needed in a crisis. I didn’t know CPR, couldn’t fix a flat, and had no idea what I’d do in a real emergency. Meanwhile, my wife, Lauren, was on the front lines as a physician assistant, calmly handling overflowing hospital wards like it was just another Tuesday. Her bravery was inspiring, but it also made me feel… well, a bit useless. I wanted to change that — to prove to myself that when things went sideways, I could be someone worth calling on.

Then Lauren and I moved out of the city and into the suburbs, where volunteer firehouses seemed to be everywhere. An unexpected thought occurred to me, “What if I became a firefighter?” My immediate answer was an emphatic no. I lacked the time, the skills, and especially the guts to leap out of bed at 2 a.m. and rush into a burning building.

But between the pandemic, moving, and seeing friends in the military and FDNY handle any situation thrown at them, I realized how much I wanted that same level of capability. I craved the purpose, service, and confidence they had. Becoming a volunteer firefighter was daunting, but it was exactly what I’d been searching for.

Even though I didn’t know the first thing about being a volunteer firefighter, I knew it was the perfect combination of meaning, commitment, service, skill, and purpose that I was looking for.

So, in January 2023, I officially joined the Huntington Fire Department.

What is a Volunteer Firefighter?

When most people think of firefighters, they picture FDNY hunks working shifts around the clock. But not everyone knows about volunteer fire departments — where “firefighter” isn’t a paid job but an act of service.

Historically, volunteer departments date back to the early days of firefighting, when communities relied on local citizens to fight fires. Today, around 70% of the fire departments in the U.S. are volunteer-based. Both types of departments are essential, but they operate with different funding models, training requirements, and community involvement levels.

The first question people ask: “Wait, so you don’t get paid?”

Correct. Hence the word volunteer. While the dispatchers might be salaried, every firefighter, from the chiefs down, is unpaid. We’re regular people — cops, nurses, teachers, tech workers — who show up to emergencies when we can, juggling our day jobs and families with a pager that pings us whenever there’s a call.

Second question: “So, are you on call right now?” Sort of. We don’t work scheduled shifts; instead, we respond when we’re available. If the pager goes off and I’m not busy, off to the firehouse I go.

Most people assume we only show up to fires, but we assist with tons of other emergency services — we’re there for car accidents, medical assistance, brush fires, animal rescues, hazardous materials, and even water rescues. In our suburban area, most calls turn out to be false alarms: burnt toast, a shower steam setting off a smoke detector, or the classic ADT alarm with a dead battery. Still, every alarm means suiting up and making sure there’s no hidden danger or carbon monoxide in the air.

And while there’s plenty of routine, volunteer calls come with plenty of surprises. We’ve rescued an osprey tangled in fishing line 50 feet up a tree, jaws-of-life’d passengers from an overturned car, even navigated a lifeboat to rescue people trapped in cars during a hurricane. I’ve seen hidden rooms, hoarders, and more drama than a reality show — including the time we calmed down a blowout fight between a couple, right in their kitchen. But the worst? Assisting an elderly man off the toilet after a case of explosive diarrhea… You really never know what’s coming when you step off the rig.

Being a volunteer firefighter means expecting the unexpected, whether it’s a full-blown fire or untangling deer antlers from soccer nets (that actually happened). And while there’s no paycheck, the experiences — and the occasional wild stories — are more than worth it.

The Training

For my first year in the fire department, I was what’s called a probie — or a probationary firefighter — meaning I was in an evaluation phase. I was a fresh recruit, so my role was merely to be a sponge, demonstrate my ability to fit into the team, and perform whatever task was asked of me.

I expected training to be tough, but I’d wildly underestimated how much there was to learn — and how heavy the textbooks would be. Every firefighter starts with a 6-month Firefighter I Basics course, which felt like boot camp disguised as night school. We spent three hours in class studying fire behavior, building construction, SCBA (Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus), and more.

And that was just the classroom stuff. For hands-on training, we had to show our proficiency in hose handling, ladder skills, forcible entry, search and rescue techniques, and donning our PPE gear properly while managing sufficient oxygen in our SCBA tanks. By the end of the course, we faced a 150-question exam and a series of live skill tests. Somehow, I passed and earned a “half-shield” — meaning I could finally step into a burning building, even though I was still technically a probie.

After a full year with no major screw-ups, my probie badge came off, replaced by my official company badge: 398. I was officially a certified firefighter, and while I still felt like a novice, I knew I was finally part of the team.

A Day/Week in the Life

Every volunteer department is different, but for us, there’s one key rule: We’re expected to respond to at least 20% of our annual calls — about 140 out of the 700 we handle each year. Sounds like a lot, but that breaks down to roughly three calls a week. I try to knock out as many as possible early in the year so I can ease up around the holidays.

Calls aside, there’s a ton more to the volunteer gig than just hopping on a truck. Here’s what a typical month of duties and events might look like:

• Equipment Maintenance: Bi-weekly truck inspections and gear checks. We’re basically our own pit crew.
• Fire Prevention & Education: School fire-safety seminars and walkthroughs of new buildings to memorize layouts.
• Company Meetings: Voting in new members, catching up on town events, and reviewing finances.
• Training: Monthly department drills and county-wide sessions. Our district scenarios range from car wrecks to building rescues, while the county brings us into full fire environments for hands-on practice.
• Fundraising: Raffles, fairs, Christmas tree sales — you name it.
• Community Events: Blood drives, election site support, funerals of former members, flag arches for events.
• Holiday Celebrations: St. Patrick’s Day, Memorial Day, 9/11 tributes, and a full-on Christmas parade.

People ask about the perks, and to be honest, they’re pretty modest. There’s camaraderie, of course, plus access to a firehouse gym, library, movie room, kitchen, and even a bar for Friday happy hours. We also get a property tax discount, a small pension plan, retail discounts, and free training and gear. Other than that, we’re here for the community, not for a benefits package.

Requirements to join are simple: be 18 or older, have a clean record, live in the district, and complete the basic fire and EMS training. Once in, you’re expected to keep up with training, meet the 20% call quota, and put family and work above the department. Early on, I wore myself out trying to attend every meeting, call, and training. But I’ve learned that I don’t need to overdo it to meet my quota or make a difference.

In an average week, I may spend about 5–6 hours at the firehouse. That includes a truck inspection, 3–4 calls, a meeting or training session, and some gym time. Outside of the firehouse, I juggle my full-time job (3 days remote, 2 in the city), family time with my wife, and my personal passions — reading, writing, and podcasting. It’s a packed schedule, but I wouldn’t trade the experience.

Lessons I’ll Take with Me

Sadly, my time as a volunteer firefighter must come to an end.

With a baby on the way, a heavier workload, and enough side hustles to keep anyone busy, I just don’t have the time or energy to give the fire department the dedication it deserves. After just two years, it’s time for me to hang up the helmet.

It’s been an incredible ride. I’ve made friends for life, learned a ton, and got a firsthand look at what it means to be a first responder. And while I could feel down about having to step away, I’m mostly proud that I took the leap in the first place. Life would’ve been a lot easier if I’d never stepped into that firehouse, but it definitely wouldn’t have been as fulfilling.

Looking forward, I know it’s best for me and my family to step away before life gets too hectic. But man, it’s been a thrill to be “the cool uncle” who could take the kids on fire trucks. Now, with a daughter on the way, I hope my experience shows her never to shy away from something just because it’s challenging or unconventional.

And, of course, it wouldn’t be a Kyle Brennan story without some life lessons to round things out. So, here’s what my time as a firefighter taught me about life:

Don’t Be Scared to Ask For Help

• As a probie, I had no choice but to stay humble and ask a million questions. Every call, no matter how small, was a lesson. Always keep that beginner’s mindset — you’re never too experienced to learn something new.

Take Pride in the Little Things

Fire departments obsess over spotless trucks and neatly coiled hoses because that’s what the public sees. Doing the small stuff well leads to doing the big things well.

Try Before You Pry

When I got my first opportunity to smash a door with an axe, I was ready to go full firefighter mode until someone said, “Maybe try turning the handle first?” It’s not just about saving doors — it’s a reminder to stop overthinking. Sometimes the easiest solution is right in front of you, and you don’t need to bring out the big guns (or axes) for it.

Slow is Smooth, and Smooth is Fast

When the sirens are blaring, it’s tempting to rush around like a headless chicken. But doing things right beats doing them fast — every time.

Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it

Sure, when there’s no smoke or flames, it’s tempting to skip lugging 30 lbs of gear up three flights of stairs. But the chief always seems to need something, and there I’d be, empty-handed, looking like an idiot. Moral of the story: always bring your tools, even if it feels pointless — you never know when you’ll need them.

Bonus

The peer pressure to grow a mustache is REAL.

From Firefighter to Civilian

Looking back, it’s wild to think of all the unexpected situations and adrenaline-filled moments. I went from being a guy behind a desk to a full-blown first responder, answering calls from overturned cars to house fires. One Friday, for example, I was working from home in my usual collared shirt and jeans, firing off emails, when my pager went off. At 4:30 p.m., a car had flipped in a traffic accident. Twenty minutes later, I was in full bunker gear, sawing the back seat out of an upside-down SUV, with glass, sweat, and yelling all around me. We got the passenger out safely, sent them to the hospital, and — sure enough — I was back at my desk answering emails an hour later.

As I step away from the firehouse, I can’t help but feel a bit like a retiree with a trophy case full of stories — some wild, some weird, but all meaningful. Sure, I’m leaving the department, but the lessons I learned, the friendships I made, and the adrenaline rushes will stay with me forever. I’ll miss the calls, the drills, and especially the mustache jokes, but I’m excited to trade in my bunker gear for diaper duty. And with a daughter on the way, I hope she grows up knowing that it’s never too late to take a leap, no matter how crazy it seems — especially when it’s for something that matters. So, here’s to the next chapter… hopefully with fewer fires and more family time.

Kyle Brennan

Firefighter

Hose Company #398

Huntington Fire Department

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