Brooklyn This Opinion Just In... BROOKLYN FIREHOUSE RELIES ON KINDNESS OF STRANGERS by Deroy Murdock

Lt. Kevin Calhoun reckons that he cheated death by about two minutes. He remembers racing across Brooklyn toward Manhattan at about 70 miles-per-hour along Bedford Avenue. As Calhoun and his colleagues crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, they saw the second of the World Trade Center's towers crumble before their eyes. "Two minutes sooner, and we would have been dead," Calhoun says of himself and his associates from FDNY Engine Company 235 in Brooklyn. Calhoun and his men proceeded to the fresh pile of rubble and tried to hook up their hoses to begin extinguishing a fire that ultimately burned for nearly three months. With water mains smashed beneath the wreckage, street hydrants and building standpipes ran dry. They had no water pressure until FDNY fireboats tapped into the Hudson River late on the afternoon of September 11. Calhoun worked at Ground Zero for 14 consecutive days. "I saw nothing recognizable for two weeks," he says. He finally pulled a stapler from the gray dust, the first identifiable artifact he encountered in a fortnight. While such wretched memories still haunt Calhoun, he's lucky. Six of his 28 colleagues from Engine 235 were killed when WTC Tower Two took the world by surprise and suddenly, inexplicably imploded. While 66 other FDNY units lost members on 9-11, Calhoun's has another interesting distinction. Engine 235 just may be New York City's poorest firehouse. While companies such as Ladder 3 -- which lost 12 of the 27 men who lived around the corner from my East Village apartment -- have enjoyed the generosity of their prosperous neighbors, Engine 235 is located in Bedford-Stuyvesant, one of New York's poorest neighborhoods. "The Eye of Bed-Stuy," as the firehouse calls itself, received hugs and kisses from grieving members of its community after the terrorist attack. However, few in this low-income area could offer the survivors very much money. "In the first three weeks after the attack, we got a total of $12," Calhoun says. "People dropped by to see us, but they don't have a lot of resources." Such funds surely would help the families of those who were murdered on September 11. The fallen have been dubbed "The Monroe Six" after the street on which their firehouse stands. Local news reports have described them not just as heroes but as amiable family men with widely varied interests. *Battalion Chief Dennis Cross, 60, was nicknamed "Captain Fearless." This Vietnam veteran spent 37 years on the FDNY and, according to his wife of 37 years, JoAnn, he had no intention of retiring. He skied, ran, biked and lifted weights to stay fit despite his advancing years. His hope, she said, was to spend 50 years with the FDNY. He also avoided further promotions which likely would mean more time behind a desk and less time extinguishing fires. His favorite saying was "Take care of men, and men will take care of you." Some 3,000 people attended the funeral of Cross, the son of an FDNY member who died of a heart attack while fighting a fire when Dennis was 13. Battalion Chief Cross leaves behind his widow, daughters Lisa Wylie, 34, Laura Sheppard, 32, Denise, 28 and a son, Brian, a 29-year-old New York City fireman.

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