My first 9-1-1 call was actually my first call as a "third man" trainee right out of EMT class #2 at Santa Ana College. I thought taking a night-school EMT course might help me deal with stuff I was bound to cover on the street as a police beat newspaper photographer. Third year student, flat broke, I just bought a Nikon-F with a 105mm f2.5 lens and now it and my other cameras were gone. I was assigned to an old red and white 1968 Cadillac hightop ambulance, Unit 299, owned by Bright Morgan of Morgan Ambulance Service in Santa Ana, CA. I couldn't sleep anyway, listening to the dispatch scanner echo down the hall, all worried about what I might be thrust into, in this strange world of private ambulance service-there might even be a story or two to tell. All I wanted to do was earn enough money to pay my books and tuition for my photojournalism training at Cal State Fullerton. My Nikons had been stolen from my apartment and I needed money, fast. That would have been in 1973, late fall, early December. A young lady got drunked up with her office friends out for a night on the town at a popular bar in the city. Got 86'd for being drunk and disorderly by the staff. She got in a tussle with an older cop who arrived onscene after reports of a combative female in the parking lot, and he would brook no disrespect. She got uppity and in his face; he whacked her upside the head with his nightstick, arrested her and transported to the jail. The girl was near hysterics. Partners said, "She's all yours, let's see what you can do." I was so young then, had hardly had any dates and now I'm bandaging up this pretty brunette woman who just got shocked back into the world of the sober. Big split in her scalp...somewhere under all that hair...perfume, sticky blood mixed with hairspray, mascara running down her cheeks-the details you remember... Got her calmed down and off we went. Code-2 into the night. When the guys unloaded the gurney at Orange County General ER, they were puzzled over what I said to make her cheerful and laughing when she went in sobbing uncontrollably just minutes before. They had left me alone with her in the back enroute to the hospital, with the partition window open so I could call for help, "If I needed it..." Crazy. I just talked to her while I bandaged her head, mostly so I wouldn't be so nervous. No judgemental words, I was learning to make humor work for me, just caring for someone in distress. We got her on the ER gurney, she thanked me for my help and seemed surprised when I told her she was my first call and she said she thought I found my calling. I'll never forget that call in all it's detail. The cool, misty night air, the PD jail sally port, the big chrome B&M Superchief wailing enroute to the scene, how it "burped" when we slammed into the road camber at each intersection. How had that beat-up Caddy managed to stay alive after all the abuse of ambulance work? And how the red lights from the rotating beacon bounced off in a blazing lightshow, reflected from highrise windows as we raced up the boulevard enroute to the call. "Bleeding head injury...," dispatch said, "You're rolling Code-3 for Santa Ana PD, second-in fire unit responding." Welcome to a busy Saturday night... The old cop saying he might cut her some slack if she behaved herself; he seemed like a decent guy. The crawling out of the rack for the first call on the first night on duty, the scanner blaring the FD "All Call." "Station-71 to all Santa Ana fire cars, female in custody with head injury, Santa Ana Jail sally port, Morgan Ambulance rolling Code-3..." Running down the hall to the unit, trying to get my shirt buttoned with nervous hands. Later, the ER nurse asking, "Who bandaged this patient?" Like I was already in big trouble. I fessed up. What could I have possibly messed up? Then she says, reading my nametag, "Well, Mr. Victor, nice job, I almost hate to cut it off..." Wow, I was hooked. Big time. I kinda forgot that I was only doing this thing temporally until I could scratch up the dough to finish my studies. Never regretted it a bit, I miss the job. I miss the life. I'll never forget that first call.