Inside volunteer firefighters’ grueling effort to battle the SPS Technologies factory blaze

Over two decades of fighting fires, never had Michael Jones seen such destruction.

The night sky above SPS Technologies was ablaze with a menacing orange glow Feb. 17 as Jones, an assistant chief with the Abington Fire Company, raced with his crew members toward the flames engulfing the hulking factory in the township.

On the way, the firefighters recounted the training that had prepared them for the possibility of a massive blaze at the 600,000-square-foot manufacturing plant that produced critical bolts and fasteners for aviation companies and the military.

But nothing could prepare Jones for the radio call he received in those frantic opening minutes.

» READ MORE: SPS Technologies was once an anchor in Abington, but the massive fire has prompted questions about its future

Six workers remained inside the building. Then, realizing he’d misheard the dispatch, Jones’ heart dropped.

Actually, it was 60 people.

Smoke continued to consume the structure, creating an ominous cloud that billowed into an even darker winter night.

“Conditions were deteriorating rapidly,” said Jones, tasked with coordinating the search and rescue operation that evening. “Just standing outside, looking at those three entrances [fire crews] were going into, you could see that we only probably had minutes before we had to evacuate.”

Crews extinguished the SPS Technologies fire last Saturday following five days of fighting it. Members of nearly 80 fire companies descended on the Montgomery County community to battle the four-alarm blaze.

Many who answered the call are unpaid volunteers, those working everyday jobs in public service or the corporate world. And as Pennsylvania faces a critical shortage of volunteer firefighters, the coordinated, weeklong effort was a Herculean feat in itself.

Now those firefighters are sharing their accounts of the chaotic opening moments of a disaster that has decimated the historic factory.

Miraculously, no one — neither employees nor firefighters — was injured or left unaccounted for.

Harsh conditions meant Jones’ crew and other responding companies were only able to last around 15 minutes inside the flaming walls of SPS before having to evacuate.

As members of the Abington company made their way to the center of the factory complex — where the fire threatened to spread to nearby buildings housing hazardous chemicals — they faced walls of smoke that left just several feet of forward visibility.

Crews used bolt cutters and brute force to break down doors, while dodging periodic explosions that shook them to their core.

Along the way they deployed thermal imaging cameras, searching for heat readings that would hopefully locate the unaccounted for factory workers.

But smoke was so thick that it rendered those cameras barely legible, some recounted.

“You would wipe the lens and get maybe five seconds to pan the room,” said Vincent McGurl, assistant chief of the Roslyn Fire Company. “You’d keep going to the next section and start over.”

Meanwhile, the intensity of the explosions coupled with scorching heat made the search particularly fraught.

“The smoke came down on top of us,” said Richard Jones, another assistant chief with the Abington company. “You could see the heat rolling over top.”

Richard Jones and his crew would only make it around 50 to 75 feet inside. His group went left. Bob Woodard, the company’s captain, took another group right.

“We could see nothing,” Woodard said, recalling smoke that was “down to our knees.” The 65-year-old’s crew was inside for around 10 minutes, clinging to a search rope that anchored them as they navigated the dense haze.

But no employees were found.

“It felt like an eternity in there,” McGurl said. For newer recruits like Ryan Merkel, who joined the Roslyn company in 2023, the experience was a trial by fire.

“Really, I was following their lead,” said Merkel, though the younger firefighter was underselling his role.

McGurl said Merkel was instrumental in carrying the “blitz line,” a stationary hose that doused the flames, affording the crew more time to search before picking up the cannon and moving to the next area.

Finally, a call of relief: All 60 employees had managed to safely exit the factory on their own.

The bogged-down crews quickly decided to evacuate; their best chance of taming the fire was now from the outside.

The SPS fire comes at a critical moment for Pennsylvania fire companies.

The state is facing a historic shortage of volunteer fighters, and companies in communities big and small are stuck in a doom loop of understaffing and underfunding.

In the 1970s, Pennsylvania once had around 300,000 volunteer firefighters. Today, it’s around 30,000.

That’s because companies are struggling to find younger recruits who can balance volunteer firefighting’s demanding training load and unpaid duties with a full-time career and other responsibilities.

Modern firefighting demands around 200 hours of intensive training. Some who would like to join simply don’t have the time.

“It’s a lack of manpower,” McGurl said. “The numbers are really going down. It’s a dying thing.”

Tom McAneney, chief of the Edge Hill Fire Company and Abington’s director of fire and emergency services, said his company receives around one to two new volunteers per month — but those recruits are only filling the place of those leaving the squad.

Meanwhile, diminished crews have a tougher time managing a busy calendar of fundraisers that are critical for funding.

And equipment costs have only increased coming out of the pandemic.

McAneney, standing before a well-polished ladder truck, said his company purchased the vehicle in 2022 for $1.2 million. Today, he estimates the same vehicle would cost $2.5 million or more.

The Edge Hill chief now faces another daunting cost: the SPS fire.

McAneney said that while some of the firefighters’ protective equipment had been decontaminated from fire-related toxins, members were wary to put the damaged gear back on. The company is instead pursuing claims through insurance.

Still, some firefighters hope that widespread interest in the SPS fire will lead community members to appreciate the work of volunteers — and perhaps consider joining themselves.

That’s what Merkel, the younger Roslyn company member, did during the pandemic, when he was stuck at home working in corporate asset protection for retailer Burlington and needed an outlet.

“It is a time commitment,” Merkel said, “but at the same time, it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done with my life.”