Fire Stations in Nizhny Novgorod

I saw a column of smoke. A fire. As we got closer I could see it wasn't just a campfire — it was a blaze stretching 500 meters. About 200 meters from the road.

I call 112.

— Hello! On the Balakhna bypass, a few kilometers from Moscow Highway, there's a ground fire. The fire front is visible from the road, about 500 meters wide… — One moment, I'll transfer you… — Hello. — Hello! On the Balakhna bypass, a few kilometers from Moscow Highway, there's a ground fire. The fire front is visible from the road, about 500 meters wide… — Ah, that's not our department. Transferring. — Go ahead. — Hello! On the Balakhna bypass, a few kilometers from Moscow Highway, there's a ground fire. The fire front is visible from the road, about 500 meters wide… — You need to call Dzerzhinsk, that's their district… — Look, I've done my part: I CALLED THE UNIFIED EMERGENCY SERVICE. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIGHT FIRES, and frankly I'm scared… — Thank you. And they hung up.

An hour later I call back (took five tries to get through): — Hello, connect me to the Dzerzhinsk fire brigade (I've learned my lesson by now). — Connecting. — Go ahead. — Good evening. I reported a forest fire an hour ago. Is anything being done? — One moment… Beryozovaya Poyma? — No! Four kilometers from there. — We have no information about this. Where is the fire? — Right there, in that location. I called an hour ago and gave all the details… (five minutes of explaining how to get to the fire). — We'll look into it…

Dear Kuzhugetovites! I'm so glad I've stopped paying taxes and am no longer feeding you…

Seven years ago our fire service was reformed and merged into the Ministry of Emergency Situations (MCHS). Before that, Prioksky District had three militarized fire stations. One of them — the best-equipped and most modern — was cut and handed over to a commercial service center.

Two stations remain: on Shaposhnikov Street and on Golovanov Street.

Specifically, Station No. 27 on Golovanov Street currently has a firefighting crew that is TWICE as small as required — two shifts of 4–5 people each, of whom one is on the phone, one is non-deployable, leaving only three who can actually respond to a call.

On top of that, rank-and-file MCHS personnel — those who weren't laid off — have had their uniforms and benefits stripped away, and there are precious few of them left, so there is nobody willing to work there now and there won't be in the future, since the average salary of a civilian firefighter is no more than 8,000 rubles, and for those still in uniform — at most 13,000.

In 3–5 years the remaining uniformed staff will retire and only civilians will be left. Except there won't be any civilians either, because no sane person is going to run into a burning building and risk their life for 8,000 rubles. So right now our entire safety net rests on those veterans who have 12–15 years in the fire service and took an oath in their time — and there is no influx of new specialists of that caliber, nor is there likely to be. The state of specialized equipment is a whole separate topic. Draw your own conclusions about how we're supposed to live going forward, what our safety is actually worth in light of the MCHS reforms, and how firmly everything is under control.

WE ARE ASKING FOR HELP!!!

Logging has been banned for a month now, yet the Leskhoz (forestry authority) has been steadily hauling out timber — 10 to 15 logging trucks every single day. Even two days ago, when we were trying to put out fires in the villages, a fully loaded logging truck came toward us. And are you aware that the exhaust pipe of a truck carrying 30 cubic meters of timber throws off sparks that could easily have started a fire? Why does our administration turn a blind eye to this? The Leskhoz has effectively become a timber monopoly in the meantime…

Near the village of Snovedʼ, firefighting has been going on for 7 days now! The administration was asked for permission to clear a firebreak around the edge of the village, but OUR ADMINISTRATION again refuses to take responsibility. Permission denied. People are defending their homes and the collective farm by their own efforts. Women and men are fighting the fire while our authorities keep resting! People have nothing to eat, no water, no food; they haven't slept for days, standing watch and fighting the flames. You can't hold out long on cucumbers and tomatoes.

Forty conscript soldiers and an MCHS fire crew were sent to help fight the fires in Snovedʼ. But the military command and the authorities forgot that these people need to be fed and given water. No food or water is being delivered. Local residents, who have barely enough for themselves, are feeding the soldiers and MCHS workers with whatever they have. Fortunately, one kind person organized a field kitchen at his own expense — for the locals as well — and at his own risk brought a personal generator, grain, canned meat, and bread from the city (the roads are blocked by burnt trees and the forest periodically flares up again). No medical supplies are being brought either. People have burns and injuries.

Why should ordinary citizens — not our elected authorities — have to take care of the people fighting the fire and defending their land?!! Why is the local government doing nothing? People have been left alone to face a raging natural disaster! Why pay taxes to a government that doesn't care about its own citizens?!! Enormous thanks to the local residents, the soldiers, and the 4 MCHS workers for saving the village of Snovedʼ. It is the only village in the area still standing, and that is entirely thanks to THEM! Local residents have nowhere to go — burning forests surround them on all sides, the city is 40 km away. They are simply besieged by fire!

On behalf of the elderly residents I am reporting: in Shimorskoe on July 30, on N. Andreyeva Street and Gorky Street, nobody managed to hear any announcement about a bus for evacuation… word of mouth came too late… Children with fever, elderly people choking on smoke — no one was notified; and there were old people who could barely walk and wanted to leave (many needed medical assistance)…

I personally heard a public-address announcement only in Zhukovka; apparently the local petty bosses sent the buses just for show… there was no intention of ACTUALLY evacuating people…

More than 35 people are prepared to give witness statements.

Abroad they practice PREVENTION; here everything is… (the rest is unprintable).

I remember from childhood that near every village in Borsky District there was a system of ditches and fire-reserve ponds. As a little girl I nearly drowned in those ditches myself. And now? Now they're dried-up hollows. Where, I ask, are the fire crews supposed to refill their water tanks? All of that infrastructure existed because the district was known for peat extraction and had been specially drained for it. And what do we see now? The extraction was abandoned, which created even more favorable conditions for fires — and the fire-protection system that should have been maintained has been completely destroyed.

Sharing personal experience

What it's like to become one:

Friday, 10:00 – browsed topics related to the fire in Vyksunsky District; Friday, 12:00 – called my friend Gorky79 and suggested driving out to help the residents of Vyksunsky District. Gorky79, in his usual manner — after a minute's thought — agreed, and we decided to contact the regional and district headquarters of the Ministry of Emergency Situations. That mission fell to Gorky79; Friday, 12:25 – Gorky79 called back and reported the following: The regional headquarters says volunteers are needed; The Vyksunsky headquarters — volunteers are not needed (!!!); The Navashinskiy headquarters — if they need any, they'll call (they asked for a phone number); The Kulebakskiy headquarters — volunteers are needed, urgently. Friday, 12:30 – decided to go; Friday, 15:00 – set off from the city, already packed up (met on the ring road); Friday, 16:40 – a call from the Kulebakskiy headquarters asking us to come as soon as possible (caught us in Vorsma); Friday, 18:20 – arrived in Kulebaki, found the headquarters (located in the Forestry complex), checked in and registered as volunteers; Friday, 20:00 – we, 27 volunteers, were loaded into a Ural truck and taken into the forest, where we were unloaded at 300-metre intervals, each handed a shovel, with five people additionally given water-pump backpacks — and given our assignment.

What it's like to be one

The task for volunteers is not overly complicated, but it is extremely exhausting and demanding — 12 hours (from 20:00 in the evening until 08:00 the following morning) with a shovel in hand, preventing fire from one section of forest (already burned and still smoldering and burning) from crossing a firebreak (a strip ploughed through sand) along your assigned stretch (between 100 and 500 metres) into an intact, unburned section of forest. Sand for extinguishing hotspots is taken from the firebreak itself and used to smother all smoldering (smoking) areas within 2 metres of the firebreak, as well as all burning spots — as far as you can realistically reach to put them out.

We repeat: it is extremely exhausting. In a burning forest something is constantly smoldering and burning; flames will suddenly shoot up from a spot that gave no sign of trouble just moments before, or a thin wisp of smoke rising from beneath a trunk will explode into flame — and within two minutes a tall tree becomes a torch. On top of that, walking across the charred ground your feet keep sinking slightly, and in the depressions below — smoldering grass. A kind of fiery footprint.

We barely made it to morning. Exhaustion, heat, and on top of it all constant smoke — working in a mask is difficult, and within five minutes it's already in your pocket. Smoldering stumps are impossible to extinguish by any means — an hour later a stump completely buried in sand starts smoking again.

The task is genuinely critical. During the daytime shift (08:00–20:00), around 400 (!!!) people using fire engines do the same thing — shoveling sand, spraying water. Those 400 people are drawn from local enterprises, which, naturally, only send their employees for a single day. Firefighters collapse at night — not because they're idiots and lazy slackers, but because all day long (from 06:00 to 23:00) they're constantly on their feet. At night, some 50 people are posted along the entire perimeter. If even one of them slips up and lets through so much as a single spark, the fire jumps to a new section of forest — and voilà — 400 people are needed all over again. Plus equipment, of course.

We received around 8–10 calls (we didn't count exactly, as we had neither the strength nor the time). Such eagerness is welcome, and we are genuinely glad of the response, but nonetheless (however harsh this may sound) we will share our thoughts on the typical questions asked over the phone:

1. Are volunteers needed? Yes, specifically for night shifts.

2. What to wear and what to bring? Forgive me — are you small children? Can't you work out what you'll need at a forest fire? Very well. Here are a few pointers. For your feet — trainers are not ideal (you can get by in them, but they burn and singe a bit). Rubber boots, ankle boots — something along those lines. By the early morning the forest is genuinely cold. A simple jacket may no longer be enough; you may want a jumper (put on in the morning). Ordinary cotton trousers. A cap or sun hat. If you plan to grab a water-pump backpack — bear in mind it leaks terribly; after five minutes of carrying it your back is soaked. You'll have to decide for yourself how to deal with that;

3. Where are volunteers accommodated? This is a genuinely sore — and at the same time absurd — question. Our position on the matter is this: nobody officially invites us. Because if the Ministry of Emergency Situations did so, it would be obliged to house us somewhere, and that costs money — there are no more state-run hotels (as there were in the USSR), which means accommodating you would cost the Ministry a pretty penny, and your help would end up more expensive than professional assistance. So — count on being completely self-sufficient! Bring everything with you. Bear in mind that you won't rest your legs properly sleeping in a car overnight; it's better to stretch out fully. That said, the excellent and level-headed chief of Fire Station 65, Shilov A.A., allowed us to spend the day (after our night shift) in the fire station's rest room. It has about 20 bunks, all empty during the day (the firefighters are at work). We also had a bite to eat there (cooked ourselves, in the kitchen), and it was possible to take a shower. However, it should be understood that this was a one-off, and while bunks may have been found for two people, they won't be there for twenty. So we repeat — be prepared to be fully self-sufficient. If things work out better than expected, that will be a pleasant surprise. But during the day it is quite realistic to sleep on a foam mat beside the lake (there is one nearby);

4. Is food provided? Yes. On Friday it wasn't great (we essentially spent the whole night on still water), but on arrival we were immediately offered porridge and canned meat, and on the second night more food was available — everyone could take zucchini caviar, canned meat, a loaf of bread, kefir, mineral water, and canned fish. In reasonable quantities, of course. In any case, the group heading out on the night shift won't let you take more than your fair share.

We repeat the main point once more — we are volunteers, and there is no reason to expect any compensation (money, hotel rooms, privileges, medals, or admiring bows from local residents). In this situation you must reckon on GIVING only, RECEIVING nothing in return. That is what voluntary assistance means. Anyone who thinks otherwise — it's better not to go anywhere.

5. What do volunteers actually do? Only what is described above. Bear in mind — it's like an army out there. Nobody is interested in your preferences or wishes. You are assigned a post and you go do the job. If that doesn't suit you — it's better not to go. You are assigned only to these perimeter sections (containing the spread of fire). If you want to stand heroically on the roof of a fire engine with a hose, casually spraying hotspots — you should also stay home. Same goes for romantics who picture themselves facing a wall of flame — don't go. There's no romance there — just real blisters on your hands from the shovel, an aching back, a cough, and by five in the morning your eyes start closing when they mustn't and your legs start giving way.

We trust that nobody — not even the most die-hard romantic — wants to end up in a critical situation (a crown fire travelling at 10 metres per second).

The situation is genuinely serious. For now the fire is being held, but that's only until the wind picks up. By Saturday evening, equipment had begun arriving from Kstovo, Dzerzhinsk, and even from Tatarstan.

We repeat — people are especially needed for night shifts.

UPD1. I just spoke with the headquarters chief — they've even set up hot meals there now. But I think any help will be welcome all the same.

And if things don't work out in Kulebaki, move on to Navashino. Or Vyksa. It's all the same situation — for the fire, the distances between these towns don't exist.

The foresters in Kulebaki told me that for tonight they have enough volunteers for the night shift; for tomorrow — they'll figure it out tomorrow.

UPD2. An important point: when we arrived, they asked whether we had any equipment. Evidently they had been expecting ten Ural tanker trucks and 100 supermen with water cannons inside them, because the headquarters chief's face fell when we cheerfully reported that we had none.

So a flat-bladed shovel would not go amiss. One per person. So as not to depend on the foresters and the Ministry of Emergency Situations.

Once again I ask — please confirm with the headquarters that your arrival is actually needed.