When someone walked up to me and said, “Oh, you’re the ‘Charlie 10,’” I knew the story of the nickname I picked up while training at the Illinois Fire Service Institute had become bigger than I had ever imagined. In fact, it has created a larger-than-life image of myself that I don’t necessarily think I deserve.
The origin of “Charlie 10”
The origin of this tall tale can be traced to that spring day when I began training at the institute.
Back then, the fire academy was six weeks long, and during that time, challenging, early-morning workouts were followed by intense and demanding hands-on drills often held in dangerous environments. Classroom sessions and menial tasks, such as cleaning, were mixed in, as well. Sore and exhausted, I looked forward to returning to my hotel room to sleep, but night meant working on homework assignments to fulfill the academy’s academic dynamic. Time at the institute was much more than being taught to put water on fire; you were tested in all areas of the job, including physical fitness, work ethic, academics and character discernment.
On that first day, I stood with 33 strangers in the academy’s parking lot before we were brought inside and organized into three companies: Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. We then were assigned roster numbers. I was “Charlie 10.”
One of the first things we learned at the institute was to sound off, which taught us a method of accountability. In the fire service, accountability is paramount, making it an invaluable lesson to learn. Alpha Company would begin by sounding off, “Alpha 1,” followed by “Alpha 2” and so on. This continued until Alpha Company’s last man sounded off and informed the instructor that everyone was present. Bravo Company repeated in similar fashion, as did Charlie Company. I was familiar with this kind of drill thanks to my time in the military, and when sounding off then, you made sure it was loud and thunderous. So when it was my turn at the academy, I screamed “Charlie 10”at the top of my lungs.
Throughout the six weeks, it felt like we were sounding off more than breathing, but we were learning how imperative it was to keep track of one another. We would sound off in the most miserable of situations—cold, hot, tired, sore, wanting to quit—and each time, I would shout my designation as loud as I could. Eventually, my boisterous “Charlie 10!” coming from the back led to laughter from my fellow students as the grueling days went on.
There were instances, however, when my distinctive response wasn’t received well, and I learned that it had its time and place. Gradually, I figured out that groove, and I was able to apply it even when we weren’t sounding off.
Sometimes, “Charlie 10!” would ring out as we were exhaustedly advancing hoselines and going through multiple bottles of air. Smiles would crack across my weary friends’ faces, and it gave us a spark to keep going. “Charlie 10” became our battle cry, an audible war face that we showed that challenge, that fire, that academy that we weren’t backing down.
In his 2014 commencement speech at the University of Texas, Admiral William H. McRaven talked about a time during Navy SEAL training when they began singing in the mud, and it made the experience a little less miserable. That’s what “Charlie 10” meant to us. It might have started as my roster number, but it became something everyone could rally around to get us through the hard times.
“Charlie 10” lives on
Years later, I’m an instructor now at the fire academy, and “Charlie 10” emblazons my helmet and jacket. In the minds of people much better than myself, I earned that name, and I will be forever grateful for the honor that comes with it. But “Charlie 10” doesn’t belong just to me. It’s a mindset for everyone.
“Charlie 10” means you’re a team player, someone who puts the success of the group ahead of his or her own achievements. It means you’re a hard worker, because if you aren’t pulling your weight, the team doesn’t care what you’re screaming. “Charlie 10” means you’re intelligent and perceptive, not simply loud. It’s about recognizing when your team needs you to raise your voice to the rafters and when it needs you simply to shut up and do the work. And although it might not seem that way on the surface, “Charlie 10” means being humble and respectful as a student of the fire service profession.
While “Charlie 10” might have been the way I was identified during sound off, it’s a high honor and distinction that I share with those I trained with at the fire academy. But the qualities that name carries with it can and should be passed along, too. “Charlie 10” will always be a part of me, and I encourage others to make it a part of them.
