Through the piercing, intermittent screech of an alarm and the dense, smoky haze in the hall of the old yellow farm house, their commands and actions were a blur of urgent noise and frantic motion.
In the blinding flash of a flickering strobe, however, it was possible to catch staccato glimpses of an emergency unfolding – a small knot of firefighters, bogged down in heavy turnout gear, struggling to drag a fallen comrade to safety.
Well, almost. The house was real – a real training facility, where firefighters were drilling routines for situations they hope to never face: saving themselves or another firefighter from the imploding inferno of a structure fire.