The day after...
Jun. 11th, 2014 04:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousmeMy icon feels a little too happy for what's happening, but it's my only RCMP icon, so there you go.
The first night at work went as well as could be expected. Working 911 is a bit like riding a bicycle, luckily enough. I made mistakes, of course, but all of them were of an administrative nature rather than operational, and so no one cares. I'm back to square one when it comes to understanding the French accent here. OMG, how does anyone understand anything the Acadians say, ever? *headdesk* Still, we're managing well enough thus far.
The outpouring of both grief and support here has been overwhelming. The operators are all doing our best to get the members through these few days. So many officers breaking down in tears because they've lost their friend, their co-worker, their troop mate from when they first became RCMP officers. One of the operators had to go help an officer who was so overwrought that he couldn't bring himself to put on his "red serge" for the funeral. We didn't escape unscathed either. All night the various news stations showed clips of the funeral service on loop, and not a single one of us remained dry-eyed during the night. I had to start looking away from the screen so I'd be able to answer calls without my voice breaking.
We do a lot of handholding in our job sometimes, and while we're happy to do it, it's at times like these that it's incredibly hard to keep your own cool.
The reverse of that coin is that the whole of Moncton and Canada has come together to help us. There were several charter flights with Air Canada to bring members here (I was on one of them), and when Air Canada asked its employees for volunteers to be on the crew, they received 200 names. They had to pull names out of a hat at random because there were too many people who wanted to help.
We are inundated with food. Everyone has cooked for us, brought food to the detachments, to the memorial services, to local churches. Last night we had to coordinate among ourselves because we worried the food would go bad and be wasted, so we collected as much as we could and spread it out among as many local shelters as we could find. So, for this week at least, a sizeable chunk of the population of Moncton will not go hungry.
Although the flood of calls has died down, I would say that even now about half the calls I received last night was about the fallen officers and yesterday's funeral. People wanted to know what would happen to Officer Ross' dog, Danny (he'll be retired and placed with a family to live out his days, as far as I know), or wanted to express their condolences or their thanks for our service, or both.
Around 20:00 last night the clouds parted just enough to let a double rainbow arc through the sky above Moncton. We could see it through our window, huge and bright against the stormy sky. As I was gazing at it, my phone rang, and an older woman from the city spoke to me.
"I think it's your three officers, looking down over the city," she said, her voice breaking. "I think it's God, giving them one last moment to bless all of us."
I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned even if you don't believe in God per se, the sentiment is a beautiful one.
RIP
Constable Dave Joseph Ross, 32.
Constable Fabrice Georges Gevaudan, 45.
Constable Douglas James Larche, 40.
The first night at work went as well as could be expected. Working 911 is a bit like riding a bicycle, luckily enough. I made mistakes, of course, but all of them were of an administrative nature rather than operational, and so no one cares. I'm back to square one when it comes to understanding the French accent here. OMG, how does anyone understand anything the Acadians say, ever? *headdesk* Still, we're managing well enough thus far.
The outpouring of both grief and support here has been overwhelming. The operators are all doing our best to get the members through these few days. So many officers breaking down in tears because they've lost their friend, their co-worker, their troop mate from when they first became RCMP officers. One of the operators had to go help an officer who was so overwrought that he couldn't bring himself to put on his "red serge" for the funeral. We didn't escape unscathed either. All night the various news stations showed clips of the funeral service on loop, and not a single one of us remained dry-eyed during the night. I had to start looking away from the screen so I'd be able to answer calls without my voice breaking.
We do a lot of handholding in our job sometimes, and while we're happy to do it, it's at times like these that it's incredibly hard to keep your own cool.
The reverse of that coin is that the whole of Moncton and Canada has come together to help us. There were several charter flights with Air Canada to bring members here (I was on one of them), and when Air Canada asked its employees for volunteers to be on the crew, they received 200 names. They had to pull names out of a hat at random because there were too many people who wanted to help.
We are inundated with food. Everyone has cooked for us, brought food to the detachments, to the memorial services, to local churches. Last night we had to coordinate among ourselves because we worried the food would go bad and be wasted, so we collected as much as we could and spread it out among as many local shelters as we could find. So, for this week at least, a sizeable chunk of the population of Moncton will not go hungry.
Although the flood of calls has died down, I would say that even now about half the calls I received last night was about the fallen officers and yesterday's funeral. People wanted to know what would happen to Officer Ross' dog, Danny (he'll be retired and placed with a family to live out his days, as far as I know), or wanted to express their condolences or their thanks for our service, or both.
Around 20:00 last night the clouds parted just enough to let a double rainbow arc through the sky above Moncton. We could see it through our window, huge and bright against the stormy sky. As I was gazing at it, my phone rang, and an older woman from the city spoke to me.
"I think it's your three officers, looking down over the city," she said, her voice breaking. "I think it's God, giving them one last moment to bless all of us."
I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned even if you don't believe in God per se, the sentiment is a beautiful one.
Constable Dave Joseph Ross, 32.
Constable Fabrice Georges Gevaudan, 45.
Constable Douglas James Larche, 40.
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no subject
Date: 2014-06-11 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-12 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-13 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-15 05:43 pm (UTC)(Also, it's possible that you'd have an easier time understanding actual Acadians; in Moncton, you're getting a lot of Chiac, which is Acadian with a lot of English mixed in.)