My grandad was a fireman at Whitechapel during the war.
He didn't like to talk when he got home sometimes.
This was when children was involved in the fire.
He went on to become chief fire officer, but still had hes days of silence.
Then you knew it was a bad fire.
Like socks says, nothing prepares you for your buddy getting blown to pieces and you've got bits of hes body all over you. Nothing prepares you when you see mutilated children laying everywhere.
Some people can cope with this.
I certainly didnt cope with those sort of scenes.