www.CANADA911.ca

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 6 in the morning as I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible was done to try and save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a call. "Is this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What Hazards awaits me? Is anyone trapped?". Or to call and ask what is wrong with the patient? Is it minor or life threatening? Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?

I wish you could be in the emergency room, as a doctor pronounces dead, the beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the past 25 minutes, knowing she will never go on her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy", ever again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the ambulance or engine or cruiser, the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When you need us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage years from the remains of her automobile. What if this was my daughter, sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What were her parents reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters and paramedics out and when we call for them and our heart drops because no one answers back or to here a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife needing assistance.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally and sometimes physically abuse us or belittle what we do, or as they express their attitudes of "It will never happen to me".

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain of missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be there in time of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy tugging at your arm and asking, "Is my Mommy okay?", not even being able to look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy having CPR done on him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never truly understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our job really means to us...I wish you could though.

PLEASE APPRECIATE AND SUPPORT THE LOCAL EMS PARAMEDICS, 911 DISPATCHERS, FIREFIGHTERS, and LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS IN YOUR AREA. ONE DAY THEY'LL PROBABLY BE SAVING YOUR PROPERTY OR YOUR OWN LIFE. WHEN YOU SEE THEM COMING WITH LIGHTS FLASHING, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY QUICKLY, and THEN PLEASE PRAY FOR THEM!

For the Keepers of the Peace
By Jaeme Ahern
Penobscot Regional Communications Center, Bangor, ME

May the nights you work be short,
and the nights off be long.
May the roads be straight,
your cruiser reliable
your hands sure on the wheel
When families are in trouble,
may you have the wisdom to know
which side of the story to believe,
and the fortitude to do what is right...
Act first with diplomacy,
then certainty,
then courage,
always with integrity.
Know that those who scorn your presence
are the same as those
who will call for your help.
That your efforts will sometimes gain praise
more often contempt
and most often will go unnoticed. But you make a difference,
in a moment, a day
in one life at a time.
Stay safe... For your families, your friends,
and those who count on you
to keep the peace.

I'm an Officer
by Christine Michelle

You need to believe I'm on your side
It's the criminals I hunt as they try to hide

I won't bother you if you just behave
I am an officer of the law, I am not your slave

You were driving too fast, I want you to live
This ticket is just a deterrent I have to give

It's my responsibility to protect you in the end
I'd give my life, what more from a friend

Daily I roam the streets checking the halls
Driving around waiting for calls

I see so much injustice not just once in a while
That's why I get so serious, it gets hard to smile

You don't know how I feel by the look on my face
I'm an officer in this jungle, caught up in this race

My badge I wear shields my heart,
It's not a wall to keep us apart.

In Memory of all Police Dogs
by John Quealy

They handled themselves with beauty & grace
and who could ever forget that beautiful face
Weather at work; or at home; whatever the test
they always worked hard; and did their best

They were real champions; at work or at play
but their lives were cut short; suddenly one day
While working on the job with their partner one day
they put themselves out on a limb; out into harms way

They gave the ultimate sacrifice; any dog can give
they gave up their life; so someone could live
The best of their breed; as his partner and anyone would say
many hearts are now broken; that he had to prove it this way

Now as the trees are blowing in the gentle breeze
the sun is shining; thru the leaves on the trees
The meadows are green; and the grass grows tall
off in the distance they can see a waterfall

As they look over the falls; down through the creek
the water flows gently; as a rabbit sneaks a peek
Far up above; in the deep blue sky
they see the birds soar high; as they fly by

They see animals playing; at the bridge by a waterfall
chasing each other; and just having a ball
They play all day; from morning to night
there's no more rain; just warm sunlight

Off in the distance; they hear trumpets blow
then all the animals look up; and notice a bright glow
The harps would play and the angels would sing
as they know they've come home; they've earned their wings

We remember that they died; in the line of duty
and are now with the Lord; sharing in heaven's beauty
Off to the meadows now; where they can play and roam free
with an occasional rest stop; under a tall oak tree

No more bad guys to chase; or bullets to take
just a run through the meadow; down to the lake
A quick splash in the water; then back to the shore
then it's off to the forest; to go play some more

These special dogs are back home; up in heaven above
they're cradled in God's arm's; and covered with His love
We'll light a candle for all of them; in the dark of night
in loving memory of all; these very special knights

Judgement Day for a Police Officer
Author Unknown

The policeman stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining.
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, Policeman.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?

The policeman squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry badges
Can't always be a Saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my work was rough,
and sometimes I've been violent,
Because the streets are awfully tough.

But I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep,
I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills just got too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fear.

If you've a place for me here, Lord
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was silence all around the Throne
Where the Saints had often trod.
As the policeman waited quietly,
For the judgement of his God.

"Step forward now, policeman,
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."

My Job
By E. DeLeon

When squad called my unit I would respond.
Whether it was a stabbing, a shooting, or another dead john.
10-4 I would say I am enroute.
Not knowing the situation or what the call was about.

It was my duty to serve and to protect.
A mentor, a counselor, all I asked for was some respect.
At times I was nervous, even a bit scared.
My adrenaline pumping when our sirens blared.

So many killings to them it's a game.
Kids caught in the middle, a bullet knows no name.
So young, so innocent they had so much left to do.
So forgive me if I cry, because I am human too.

Never once did I take something that was not mine
Not a ten, a twenty, not even a dime.
Always tried to show some respect and kindness.
Because I was proud to be one of Chicago's Finest.

Never did I think when I got this call.
That this would be my last job, my last 5-Paul.
When the shots rang out I didn't feel the round.
Until I heard my partner say "Officer Down".

Now as I lay here trying to be strong.
How could things have gone so wrong.
Not knowing that tomorrow was never on it's way.
The lord had something else in mind, for me that fateful day.

This can't be happening; I'm too young to die.
To my family, my friends, I don't want to say good-bye.
You didn't have to shoot, my life you didn't have to rob.
Because I was just doing what was my job.

My Policeman
By Deanna Gee

In the evening about 8:00 p.m.
On the sofa where we've snuggled for a while.
"It's time for your crime-fighter to get ready.
"With a lump in my throat, I manage a smile.

While he showers, I lay out his clothes.
I'll keep myself busy until he goes.
I don't want him to know I worry so much
He knows anyway, he can feel it in my touch.

He took an oath to serve and protect.
It's a huge responsibility and that I respect.
He wears his badge with so much pride.
That makes me proud to stand at his side.

I pray, I pray, I pray every night
God will protect him and keep him from strife.
When the road to danger and unlawfulness is paved,
His skills, training and God's grace keep him safe.

We hug and we kiss good-bye-I feel the cold badge press on my cheek,
I feel the worry welling. It's hard for me to speak.
I whisper, "I love you and be careful" with one last embrace.
"I love you too, baby" he touches my face.

Oh, how I hate that nagging, chilling fear
What if this is my last chance to hold him near?
It's not all the time that I feel this way.
Just days like today, I could beg him to stay.

I wish all people could understand this occupation,
Not unlike a soldier protecting this nation.
Risking his life to take care of you and me.
An angel in uniform could he be?

I close the door behind him wishing morning were here,
When his shift has ended and so has my fear.
I'll be strong and support his commitment to serve.
It's honorable and selfless to do such work.
It's protecting communities, property and life...
He's a policeman and I'm his wife.

Policeman's Prayer
Author Unknown

When I start my tour of duty God
wherever crime may be,
As I walk the darkened streets alone,
let me be close to Thee.

Please give me understanding
with both the young and old.
Let me listen with attention
until their story's told.

Let me never make a judgement
in a rash or callous way,
but let me hold my patience,
let each man have his say.

Lord, if some dark and dreary night,
I must give up my life.
Lord, with your understanding love,
protect my children and wife.

Speeding Ticket
Author unknown

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop
catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."

"Hello, Jack." No smile.

"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."

"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.

"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct." Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.

"What'd you clock me at?"

"Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely

nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

"Please, Jack, in the car."

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?

Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.

Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in

the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:

"Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it -- a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have left.
Bob"

Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

Life is precious. Handle with care. This is an important message; please pass it along to your friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are not the only things recalled by their maker.

The rape victim
By Steve Whitson
stevehwhitson@cs.com

What once was beauty was now all blood
Teeth were missing and nose askew
Her vagina torn, and ribs broken too

She saw the badge and leapt at it
It seemed the door of Canterbury
Sanctuary, sanctuary

The arms on his neck were just as steel
There was no stopping the blood and tears
The violent hold was of her fears

Others strived to unwind the pair
Pull and push, try harder and strain
“You’ll hurt her” he said, “Cause no pain”

In taut embrace to care they raced
The nurses there had seen it before
Narcotics stopped the tug-of-war

Her death grip went a little slack
They fell apart with no goodbye
And now it was his turn to cry

TO THE ONE I LOVE
by Christopher Wynslow, SrA, USAF
Firefighter / EMT - III
Elmendorf Fire & Emergency Services
rescuephoto@msn.com

To the one I LOVE,

I became involved in emergency service work because there is a need for people to help others who are in trouble. Sometimes there are calls I respond to, that are difficult to talk about even with the person you love and trust most in the world.
Please accept that.

There are at times experiences I suffer which hurt me very deeply, and I might bring my suffering home. Sometimes my feelings bother me so much so that I can't even talk about them. Maybe it's because I don't want you to even imagine what I've suffered or maybe it's because I'm afraid you won't fully understand the depth of my feelings. During these times I'll become moody or irritable, and I may not SEEM to care much about your feelings or problems even though I DO CARE very much.
Please accept that.

You love me for who and what I am. I choose to do what I do because it is so important to me and to those I help, and although it's sometimes very difficult and maybe even dangerous, I love doing what I do, and I do it well. In short, I'm proud of what I am, and I hope that you are proud of me.
There are times, though, when I feel that I didn't do enough - so many people out there depend on me; there are even times I get frustrated and even angry at my co-workers, myself and the victims of tragedy. There are times that the horrors I have to deal with just overwhelm me. That's when I have to sort things out by myself, or others who were there with me.
Please accept that.

So PLEASE, if I have a really bad call and just can't talk, it isn't because I don't love and care for you. It's not because I doubt your love and concern for me. I'm just not ready to open up. When this happens, don't try to understand - just accept the fact that I'm hurting - and that I'll talk to you when I can.
I PROMISE.

When God Made Peace Officers
Author Unknown

When the Lord was creating peace officers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this order? A peace officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle his uniform.

"He has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify in court the next day.

"He has to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten meals. And he has to have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands... no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "It's the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before he asks, "May I see what's in there, sir?" (When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that accounting job.) "Another pair here in the side of his head for his partners' safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, 'You'll be all right ma'am, when he knows it isn't so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."

"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the peace officer very slowly, "Can it think?" she asked.

"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the elements of a hundred crimes; recite Miranda warnings in its sleep; detain, investigate, search, and arrest a gang member on the street in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop... and still it keeps its sense of humor. This officer also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the peace officer. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."

"That's not a leak," said the lord, "it's a tear."

"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."

"You're a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," he said.

Je reviendrai
par Cédric Smeets
commissaire, zone Bruxelles-Capitale-Ixelles, Belgique
cedricsmeets@hotmail.com

Mon amour, c'est le cœur déchiré que je m'en vais
Et si ce soir devait commencer ma dernière nuit
Et si je te fais défaut, et si, à ma parole, je faillis
Sache que pour toi seront mes dernières pensées

Mon amour, je te supplie d'avance de me pardonner
Si demain matin c'est un autre qui vient te l'annoncer
Aux premières heures, le soleil pas encore levé
Que désormais, tu vivras sans moi, abandonnée

Mon amour, toi au moins, tu pouvais le comprendre
Que c'est de me sentir utile dont j'avais besoin
Cette nécessité aussi de la vie d'être un témoin
Mais pas de ceux qui passifs refusent d'entreprendre

Mon amour, c'est le cœur déchiré que je te repars
Mais je te le promets, ma belle, demain je reviendrai
Car c'est auprès de toi que je refoule ces pensées
Qui naissent de trop voir, dans les âmes, le plus noir

Tu te sens seul
par Cédric Smeets
commissaire, zone Bruxelles-Capitale-Ixelles, Belgique
cedricsmeets@hotmail.com

Tu te sens seul entouré de tes frères,
Le bruit alentour ne couvre pas ce cri
Qui l'âme toute entière te remplit
S'y love, y dort, y rêve, te désespère.

Jamais aucun son au-dehors ne fuse
Et tu ne peux prononcer ces quelques mots
Te sentant trahis par de probables trémolos
Tu te remplis donc telle cette vieille écluse.

Tu y as cru, à cette facile légende du dragon,
Celle qui en fait le portefaix d'un ange déchu,
Dans tes songes tu les affrontes et les tues,
Mais le Mal vit dans nos coeurs et nos actions.

Mon frère, pourras-tu nommer l'immonde bête ?
Pourras-tu oublier que des hommes elle est née ?
Retiendras-tu ta propre main qui dans l'obscurité
Voudras te ramener, que tout enfin s'arrête ?

Accepteras-tu de vivre ta pénitence de crédule ?
Ne succombe pas, mon frère, à cette douce voix
Ne te laisse pas glisser dans la nuit et la soie,
Rejoins-nous, parle-nous, et fuis le crépuscule.

Dis-nous tes craintes, tes peurs, tes doutes,
Rappelle-nous qui nous sommes et pourquoi
Laisse-toi aller, pour nous, à la faiblesse et l'émoi
Car ton échec serait pour tous une déroute.

Tu te sens seul entouré de tes frères,
Le bruit alentour ne couvre pas ce cri
Mais une fraternité solitaire nous unit
Dans une muette chaîne de prière.

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