When firefighter Shamim Ahmed was pulled from the flames in Tongi on the night of 22 September, his colleagues could barely recognise him. His uniform was in tatters, his skin seared, his breathing shallow. Hours later, he was taken to the National Institute of Burn and Plastic Surgery, where doctors told his family that more than 100 per cent of his body had been burned. He clung to life for less than a day. On 23 September, the fire service added his name to the long and growing list of its dead.
Shamim was only one of four firefighters who rushed into the chemical warehouse that day. Two others remain in critical condition, their bodies burned almost entirely. They went inside believing the blaze to be manageable, but no one had told them what was really stored there. A sudden explosion turned the warehouse into a furnace, and the men into victims.
Their deaths and injuries did not come as a surprise to fellow firefighters. Theirs is a job shadowed by danger, but in Bangladesh, it is not only fire that kills them. It is silence.
A deadly pattern
Since the Fire Service and Civil Defence Department was officially formed in 1981, at least 49 of its personnel have died in the line of duty. In the past decade alone, 24 have been killed and 386 injured. The majority of these deaths happened in fires fuelled by chemicals, hidden from those who came to put them out.
The Sitakunda container depot disaster of June 2022 stands as the darkest chapter yet. Thirteen firefighters were killed in one night, the highest single death toll in the service’s history. They had rushed in to douse the flames, not knowing they were surrounded by chemicals primed to explode.
The roll call of the dead includes 35 firefighters, seven group leaders, three drivers, a senior station officer, a station officer, a diver and a nursing attendant. Some of them perished in sudden explosions, others while suffocating in toxic smoke, but many simply because they had been denied vital information.
‘We jump into fire knowing it is a death threat’
The firefighters themselves are painfully aware of the risks. Some speak quietly, unwilling to give their names. “We jump into the fire, knowing that it is a death threat. But when the type of fire, explosives, gas or chemical information is concealed, then the death march of our workers increases,” one said.
Another described the danger from crowds of onlookers who often pressurise the service into reckless action. “After reaching the scene, the excited crowd attacks the fire service to quickly put out the fire. For this reason, when they are forced to enter the fire site at risk and an explosion occurs, the firefighters die. But the locals do not tell in advance what kind of goods were there.”
Families left shattered
At the burn unit in Dhaka, Professor Alamgir Kabir waited helplessly outside the ward where his nephew Nurul Huda lay with 100 per cent burns. His words broke with grief. “We often hear news that firemen are getting injured or killed. But it is not decreasing. The government and the fire service should pay attention to this. Because if those who work to protect people’s lives and property are the casualties, then who will save them? I hope that no other firefighter will suffer 100 per cent burns like my nephew.”
His voice carried the pain of dozens of families across the country, who have seen their sons, brothers and husbands return from fire scenes either broken or not at all.
The toll of neglect
The statistics are grim. In 2015, one firefighter died and 37 were injured. The following year saw no deaths, but 72 injuries. In 2017, two were killed and 47 injured. The years that followed continued the bloody rhythm: one death in 2019, one in 2020, two in 2021, and then the horror of Sitakunda in 2022 with 13 lives lost and 40 injuries. Last year brought another death and 54 injuries. In 2024, two more were killed and 38 injured. This year has already claimed Shamim Ahmed.
Behind each figure is a household left without its breadwinner, its protector, its hero.
Experts call for accountability
Brigadier General (retd) Abu Naeem Mohammad Shahidullah, former Director General of Fire Service, believes these deaths are preventable. “The government, private sector and business people need to come forward regarding chemical safety. Every organisation that uses chemicals should use them according to the specific place and MSDS. For this, they should be trained, form a safety committee, create their own safety and finally, if a major accident occurs, the fire service will bring it under control,” he said.
He added: “In all the incidents that have occurred so far, it is necessary to see whether there was a safety committee at all. Not just the formation of the committee, but whether they have been trained and whether they have such equipment. As the first responders, they are supposed to take action and they have to take responsibility for their failures. If exemplary punishment and accountability are brought for failures, not only fire service personnel but also ordinary people will not die from chemicals. Accidents can happen, but if the safety net is right, at least people will not be injured or killed.”
‘We were not informed’
Inside the fire service, officials say their hands are tied not by lack of equipment but by lack of knowledge. “The Fire Service has adequate equipment to control any chemical fire. But after the fire broke out, the Fire Service is not provided with informational assistance at the scene. We could not find anyone to tell us what kind of goods were in the warehouse in Tongi,” said Shahjahan Sikder, officer-in-charge of the media cell.
He recalled how the firefighters who were burned in Tongi had suspected chemicals inside and were preparing for defensive action. But a furious crowd demanded they rush in. “At that time, the fire was very small. A sudden explosion occurred. Three people are fighting for their lives in the hospital after being injured. Four firefighters were forced to enter the warehouse due to pressure from the locals. Otherwise, defensive efforts would have been made to control the fire.”
Sikder believes warnings must be made visible. “If there are chemicals in a warehouse or factory, instructions should be given at the main entrance. It should be written there: ‘There are chemicals or flammable materials here; public access is reserved.’ Such instructions are given according to the building code. But most factories, except garment factories, do not have such instructions. Because most factories do illegal business.”
The unanswered question
The stories of Sitakunda, Tongi and many smaller fires are variations on the same tragedy. Firefighters race through traffic with sirens wailing, arrive to scenes of panic, and step into flames without the truth. They rescue others, yet too often fail to save themselves.
And the same question echoes in every funeral procession, in every hospital corridor where families wait: how much is the life of a firefighter worth?
Until businesses, regulators and communities choose honesty over silence, Bangladesh’s bravest will continue to die not just from fire, but from what is hidden inside it.