Most of us have heard of firefighters rescuing cats from treetops. Some may have read of the British firemen who did just that, then accidentally ran over the cat as they left.

While I was in Charlotte the other day, two Cherry Lane volunteer firefighters rescued my aunt from her lift chair, which had stalled in the reclined position by another of BREMCO’s power outages. We sometimes take these dedicated men and women for granted, knowing very little of the commitment that pokes unexpected holes in their lives. Two other such groups suffer the same fate; Alleghany’s Emergency Medical Service and Rescue Squad.

Our county has five volunteer fire departments: Sparta, Piney Creek, Glade Creek, Laurel Springs and Cherry Lane. Intense training is a certainty, and takes place at the fire station and in the field. Dilapidated old houses make excellent classrooms, since a fire can be started and extinguished several times before there’s nothing left.

However, the real thing teaches more serious lessons very quickly. One such call brought firefighters to a house blaze that pumped billowing clouds of smoke from under the eaves. In an effort to isolate the hottest spot, firemen went inside the burning building and felt their way along a sheetrock wall. It didn’t take long to locate the flames between two rooftops. Investigation blamed the fire on the old bugaboo of a creosote-filled chimney that may have been smoldering for days.

An automobile accident in 1969 involved two local teenagers, one of whom was Dr. Terry Johnson’s younger brother, Johnny. Lacking the equipment and personnel necessary to get them out of the wrecked car, a neighboring county’s rescue squad was called to help. After more than two hours, the car’s roof was peeled back and both victims were transported by ambulance to Baptist Hospital. Unfortunately, they died on the way.

Within weeks, a countywide fundraising effort was begun and collected $8,000 to start a squad here. That money paid for a truck provided by the local Chevrolet dealer. Several area families soon became heavily involved in the start-up and brought EMS instructors from cities nearby. Today’s Rescue Squad is the direct result of area citizens who made it possible.

“That just goes to show,” Dr. Johnson adds, “that good things can come out of tragedy.”

Gerald Leftwich, the county’s Emergency Management Coordinator, was involved in Rescue Squad activities for more than 25 years before being hired for his current responsibilities. His new assignment sometimes includes laying a faint trail through the woods so search and rescue students learn to track lost hikers.

Gene Crouse, a top-level EMS instructor, teaches search and rescue, extrication, farm-rescue, and high-angle rescue classes here and in other areas of the state, as do other local trainers. His part in one such class included Charity Gambill, one of the Rescue Squad’s charter members.

The course took place at Stone Mountain and was intended to teach safe ways to rescue fallen hikers and rock climbers. The team began from the mountaintop and lowered rescuers one at a time down the rock’s face toward the “victim.” When Charity’s turn came up, she attached the rope to her harness and backed cautiously toward the edge.

“What do I do now?” she called.

“Just lean back and work your way down,” came the reply. Charity’s explanation of what happened next took longer to tell than it did to happen.

“All of a sudden I flipped over and was hanging head-down! My helmet whacked the rock and jiggled sideways, but it stayed on.”

Instructor Crouse promptly hooked in and had the other pupils lower him toward Charity. The mountain’s curvature hid Crouse’s rope, so she assumed he was just stretched out on the rock and refused to take his outstretched hand. Since the choice of being lowered headfirst all the way down the mountain had little appeal, she finally reached for his hand and was gently rescued. The spot will long be known as “Charity’s Rock.”

Alleghany’s real strength is in its people. It appears to have been that way since the first settlers, and will continue as long as folks treat one another like family.

That’s what prompted those two Cherry Lane firemen to stop what they were doing and come help a friend they hadn’t met yet. We are indebted to them both.