Tires screeched. A siren wailed. It was spring 1975. And an ambulance was racing through the streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
At the wheel was a man named John Moon. He was part of the Freedom House Ambulance Service. It was the first modern paramedic crew in the country.
Moon stopped on a bridge. A man was lying still on the walkway. Between him and Moon was a 12-foot-tall fence. On top was razor-sharp wire. Moon hesitated for a moment. Then he began to climb. What choice did he have?
For this patient, Moon was the only thing standing between life and death.
Tires screeched. A siren wailed. It was spring 1975. An ambulance raced through the streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
At the wheel was a man named John Moon. He was part of the Freedom House Ambulance Service. It was the first modern paramedic crew in the country.
Moon stopped on a bridge. A man was lying on the walkway. Between him and Moon was a 12-foot-tall fence. On top was razor-sharp wire. Moon hesitated. Then he began to climb. What else could he do?
The patient needed him.
Tires screeched. A siren wailed. It was spring 1975, and an ambulance was racing through the streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
At the wheel was a man named John Moon. He was part of the Freedom House Ambulance Service, the first modern paramedic crew in the United States.
Moon stopped on a bridge. A man was lying still on the walkway. Between him and Moon was a 12-foot-tall fence with razor-sharp wire on top. Moon hesitated for a moment—and then he began to climb. What choice did he have?
For this patient, Moon was the only thing standing between life and death.