'You Hear the Horn, You Go' Becoming a Firefighter With Eric Black
A quiet New Jersey town, a blaring horn, and the adrenaline-fueled moments that follow
Hi friends,
Firefighters are some of the most heroic people out there. They show up in our worst moments, without hesitation, without fanfare, and do the hard, dangerous work of keeping us safe. And many do it without pay.
I met Eric Black in college, where we worked together at the student newspaper, The Daily Orange. Back then, he struck me as steady and thoughtful, certainly the kind of person you could count on. Today, he lives in Fair Haven, a small town in New Jersey (near the shore!), where he volunteers with the local fire department.
I reached out to Eric because I wanted to understand what that life is really like: what it feels like when the alarm goes off, how you learn to stay calm in a crisis, and what keeps someone coming back to serve again and again. What follows is his story, in his own words.
May it help you see firefighters—not just the ones in big cities, but the thousands of volunteers across the country—a little differently.
-Matthew
I never thought I’d become a firefighter. I grew up in Fair Haven, New Jersey, a small, two-square-mile town of 6,000 people, and went to the firemen’s fair every year. We host the biggest one in the state. But even then, there was never a part of me that thought, “I want to join the department.” It wasn’t because of 9/11 either, even though I lost my uncle in the South Tower. He wasn’t a firefighter, but he did save someone that day. We still keep in touch with her family, which is pretty special.
It wasn’t until after COVID hit, summer of 2020, that I started thinking about it. I had just graduated, was living at home, working at a pizza shop, and I was probably in the best shape of my life. I don’t know if I saw something on social media or what, but I remember being at work, thinking, “Why don’t I just try to become a firefighter?” Journalism, which I studied in college, didn’t feel like a sure thing anymore. I figured I’d give this a shot. And once I committed, I really committed.
I did the Fire Academy in the spring of 2021. Once you finish, you’re good to go. You can respond to any call. The first time that alarm went off, my heart was pounding. I’d be fumbling with my shoes, taking too long to turn the car on, doing everything too fast. Even for minor stuff, my adrenaline was through the roof.
Now it’s second nature. I still get a jolt, but it’s more focused. I live half a mile from the station. When the fire horn goes off, three blasts for EMS, five for fire, I hear it, my dog hears it, and I grab my gear. There’s also an app on my phone, I Am Responding, that gives more detail: where the call is, what the dispatcher heard, what kind of emergency it is. But sometimes you don’t even read that: you just go. I tell my fiancée, Syd, I love her, throw on my Crocs, and I’m out the door. One stoplight away from the station.
At the firehouse, there’s a drill we’re all tested on in the academy called the two-minute drill. It’s where you go from street clothes to full gear…hood, boots, pants, jacket, radio, and your SCBA (self-contained breathing apparatus)…in under two minutes. It sounds fast, but with reps, it becomes automatic. On the way to a call, we’ll often throw our packs on in the truck, so we’re ready to jump out the second we arrive.
The biggest call I’ve ever had came just a couple of months ago: a garage fire on a narrow street, sparked by an e-bike battery. I remember getting the alert, seeing it was a structure fire, those are the big ones, and just going. I don’t even remember what I was thinking. My body just did what it had been trained to do. I was in the jump seat of the truck, which means you get out first. That day, I was assigned to hit the hydrant: my least favorite task.
People don’t realize how important that role is. If you mess up connecting the hydrant and people are already in the house, they don’t have water. And then they’re screwed. That’s a lot of pressure. And it’s not always as simple as turning a cap and hooking a hose. This one had bushes all around it. We had to fight through the landscaping just to get access. It turned out fine, but four years ago, I would’ve been panicking. It’s amazing what experience and training can do.
Another time, at a car fire, I hurt my thumb so bad trying to get the hydrant cap off, it was sore for a month. That’s the kind of thing no one really sees: how physical and precise even the “simple” stuff is.
Emotionally, it varies. You do feel the adrenaline, but I try to stay stoic. I want to be the guy people can rely on, especially in those first intense moments when everything’s chaotic. Afterwards, there’s always a wave of pride. We just spent four hours on a Sunday saving three homes from going up in flames. No one got paid. We all just showed up. There’s something beautiful about that.
People are surprised when they find out most firefighters in the U.S. are volunteers. In New Jersey, it’s 75%. In New York State, outside the city, it’s something like 90%. That’s just how it is. And in a town like Fair Haven, we have everyone from 14-year-old cadets to 90-year-old life members. It really becomes a second family.
I run the cadet program now. I also help lead recruitment. Four years ago, I didn’t know a single person in the department. Now, I have a whole network of friends: people whose lives I care about, who care about mine. That’s what keeps me coming back. There’s the pride of doing the job, yes. But there’s also this camaraderie. You pull up to a scene and everything else including emails, errands, stress, fades away. You’re just working as a team. You hear the horn, you go. That’s it.
Nice piece on the value of these brave volunteers. I never realized how many were volunteer fire departments outside of major cities.