Famous last words.

Napoleon was wrong, skills and knowledge trump luck as I told new LFB recruits.

Napoleon famously asked of a newly appointed General in his army, “Is he lucky?” Maybe a valid question for the nature of battles and combat operations of that time. However, one can be lucky as a one off, but over a thirty year period, winning streaks don’t last.

It was a cold early spring day at Park Royal in North West London. I’d worked on the LFB/Babcock training partnership for some time, from it’s original incarnation at the historic Southwark Training Centre, bussing up to BM Trada/ “Chiltern Fire” for live fire training through to the current centres at Beckton, Croydon and Park Royal. But I was on the way out of the door as I’d handed my resignation in at the start of that week.

A couple of months earlier, I’d been passing the firehouse at Park Royal and noted that the smoke didn’t look “right”, poking my head around the corner, I saw some of the Babcock staff who’d been brought in as “cheap labour”, retained Firefighters in shire brigades (who hadn’t been Metropolitan Officers) debriefing a crew, I could also see the “Merlin” Entry Control Board with a tally still in and sounding full alarm, confirming that someone was inside. Grabbing the nearest SCBA set, I donned and made my way to the basement, where former Station Officer Dave Wilson was overcome by heat, prone and not moving. The smoke layer was low and flames were dancing within the gases. I picked up the branch (nozzle), dealt with the fire and then dragged Dave up the flights of stairs and out, by which time, the “Hampshire Homies” had realised something was up and some first aid was given prior to Ambulances arriving to take us both to hospital.

(Babcock’s firehouse at Park Royal)

I tell you this not out of any self-aggrandisement, not that a solo rescue carrying a fourteen and a half stone man in full SCBA up from a basement isn’t notable, but because of what happened next and it’s portent for the future.

In following days I was summoned to see Babcock’s management. I was obviously due to write a witness statement about what happened, any event whilst wearing breathing apparatus being “RIDDOR reportable” and a submission to be made to the UK’s Health & Safety Executive. I naively thought that this would be about that. I was wrong.

“We think Dave staged the whole event, and we would like you to support our point of view in your witness statement Ben.”

“I’ll tell the truth on my statement, but for record, Dave was completely unconscious and would have died, had I not gone down there.”

“Well think really hard about your future prospects here, Ben.”

The message was very clear. Toe the company line. Or get out!

Now, Dave had been critical of Babcock’s operating model. Initially the Training Staff were made up of secondees (current LFB Officers) and mainly retired Metropolitan Officers such as Dave Wilson, and a smattering of solid officers from the surrounding brigades such as Surrey FRS. We were also on relatively decent salaries at that time. But, like all things, it had to end and Babcock started recruiting retained (part time) Firefighters from (mainly) Hampshire, who were travelling up daily. Nice lads in the main, but not “seasoned” Firefighters or Officers and certainly not in a Metropolitan context. Teaching high-rise firefighting was not a problem for me; at Gateshead I’d spent more time in the sky than the R.A.F. But, some of these guys had never been to a “real” fire in a high rise.

As with anything, once a “tipping point” is reached where skills and knowledge are in the minority, bad things happen. This happened quickly as Babcock started returning secondees to LFB and cutting back on the experienced former Officers, in favour of the cheap hired hands of Hants. It was also relevant that Babcock staff on that contract were on a profit margin based bonus scheme, so it was in their financial interest to reduce staffing costs and levels. Dave Wilson had pointed this out. Vociferously.

I was in a situation where I was being asked to lie on a formal report, so that accountability could be avoided by those in positions of responsibility who had created a dangerous situation where a good man could have died and both of us had been hurt. (I discovered a few months later that I had ripped open five hernias in that rescue effort.)

I chose to resign rather than lie on a a formal report. To my knowledge, a RIDDOR report was never submitted and Dave Wilson was terminated.

So this is how we got to the morning of the recruits’s “passing out” parade. I wasn’t intending to stay for the usual bumflufferies, preferring the 1249 out of Euston to Lichfield Trent Valley and walking up to the Duke of York to meet L (my partner) for an early teatime pint. Matt Swan and I spoke to the recruits and wished them well, but as I turned to leave I got all Al Pacino.

“Well done, you’ve completed your course but this is only the beginning of your journey. But I’ve two things I’d like you to remember before you leave here today and start your careers.

Firstly, who you work for. It’s not me, it’s not your ADO, not the Chief, not the Mayor. Your bosses are each and every person that reside in, work in, travel to or through this massive metropolis. That is who you’re accountable to, and nothing less than 100% is ever, ever acceptable.

Secondly, there are two directions you can choose to go in now. You can invest in your own skills and knowledge by working, reading, learning and being a perpetual student of this game. Or … You can rely on luck- and many people in the Fire Service have done.

But, I’ll tell you this, skills and knowledge will prevail over bad luck, if you rely on being lucky you roll the dice ever single time you go out on that fire truck, and you’ll get away with it, you’ll get away with it and you’ll get away with it. Until you don’t. And when you don’t, that is when people die.

Choose wisely.”

It’s not lost on me, how the maxim that I tried to instil on those young, fresh faces on that cold morning, was proven right on the figurative battleground of the West Midlands, where those who had ridden their luck (for decades in some cases) came unstuck, and those who’d invested in knowledge, skill and their own resilience were able to overcome all the bad luck possible.

Anyway, there is only one way to finish this off today with Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes.

Until next time…