By Demian Bulwa
San Francisco Chronicle
SAN BRUNO, Calif. — As residents of a San Bruno neighborhood fled from a soaring pipeline blaze Thursday, others rushed toward the inferno.
There was Anthony Ottoboni, a firefighter from South San Francisco, who had been off duty at his son’s baseball practice. His wife heard the blast, looked at her husband and said, “Go.”
Ken Chetcuti, a South San Francisco police officer who grew up in San Bruno, drove toward the blaze thinking about all the friends he knew who lived near the fireball.
And Bill Forester, a San Bruno fire captain, rode in on an engine believing he was responding to the crash of a plane from San Francisco International Airport — or a terrorist attack two days before the anniversary of 9/11.
“Somebody said it was like they took a Saturn 5 rocket and turned it upside down,” Forester said. “Quite honestly, it was pretty scary.”
About 400 first responders — firefighters, police, paramedics and others — charged into San Bruno’s Crestmoor neighborhood after a high-pressure Pacific Gas and Electric Co. gas line ruptured, creating an inferno that killed at least four people.
They told their stories Tuesday as a group, gathering near the blast site.
It was, they said, a once-in-a-career incident that made them feel helpless at times — but one in which their disaster training and the concept of mutual aid paid off.
What they saw
The firefighters and police officers became aware of the blast in different ways. Forester was upstairs in a fire station when a woman ran in screaming. “We looked out and saw the fireball,” he said.
As the first responders entered the area, they saw chaos. San Bruno police Sgt. Mike Guldner said many people flooded out of the neighborhood that was engulfed in flames, but others moved closer, trying to get a better view or to take pictures.
“I realized immediately how overwhelmed we were going to be,” Guldner said.
At one fire station, burned residents were streaming in, said John Priolo, a San Bruno firefighter who had been off duty when the blast happened. Without enough ambulances, Priolo said, the firefighters asked able-bodied residents to drive those with the most serious burns to hospitals.
For about 20 minutes, Forester said, firefighters thought a passenger plane had crashed. The San Francisco Fire Department’s airport division asked those on the ground to look for a fuselage or wings.
When word came down that a pipeline had ruptured, he said, “that was a big sigh of relief.”
Water problems
But there was also frustration, as the pipe blast had knocked out the water main that fed hydrants in the neighborhood.
“It’s a sinking feeling, to say the least,” Forester said. “You count on that water, and if there was ever a time you needed it, that was it.”
Firefighters finally laid down hose lines from hydrants that were blocks away, with neighbors helping out.
Chetcuti parked his car at the edge of the fire, spotted Guldner and asked him what he could do to help. Within moments, he teamed up with four others on an evacuation team.
“We got down there as close as we could,” Chetcuti said. “There was a sense of relief when residents saw us.”
Residents in shock
They knocked on doors and forced open others. Some people, the officer said, thought they had more time to grab belongings and keepsakes. They had little idea of the grave danger they were in.
On the other side of the fire, Ron Carlino had a similar experience.
The police lieutenant, who had been on duty as the watch commander for the South San Francisco force, was going door to door, entering smoke-filled homes to evacuate residents. People seemed to be in shock, he said, and “just felt like they wanted to grab anything. They didn’t want to leave empty-handed.”
Looking across the valley, he said, the fire and smoke obscured the other side.
“We could only go so far,” he said. “It was a helpless feeling knowing there were people we could not get to.”
Crucial help
The first responders made a point of saying they were awed by the response of ordinary people who helped. Some offered to hand over their vehicles — or their garden hoses — if needed.
In one instance, Guldner said he was able to leave a burned man in the care of an off-duty doctor and paramedic who appeared before him.
“We had everyday people running into houses helping us,” said San Bruno Officer Scott Rogge. “Those are the true heroes. We chose to do this. We do it every day. But those people really stepped up.”
Copyright 2010 San Francisco Chronicle