Gary Murphy has been chief of the Oakdale Fire Department for 30 years, but his first experience in the firehouse was on the other side of the chief's desk.

At 15, his mother insisted he walk to the firehouse to claim responsibility for starting a fire.

Murphy and other high schoolers were at their local hangout-an abandoned barn on Williams Road-when their campfire began to spread. When they couldn't control it, the kids panicked and ran home.

After hearing that the local fire department spent 24 hours fighting a fire that had consumed the property, Murphy's mother questioned him. Then she told him to explain the incident to the Oakdale fire chief.

As expected, Chief Joseph Venditto told the teenager he should have reported the fire right away. And then he handed Murphy an application.

Venditto said he was impressed by Murphy's courage. Murphy said he was impressed by the fire station's pool table, so he acquiesced.

He started as a junior member, unable to do much until he was 18, and worked his way up. He still remembers being a new member and insists he would never ask a volunteer to do something he wouldn't do.

"I really loved (the fire department)," said Murphy, who worked as a construction worked and then a corrections officer but has volunteered with the department for more than half his life.

He grew up in Montville and knows many of the people he helps. Since joining the department in 1975, he's delivered babies and mentored generations of firefighters.

"It's a very rewarding job," he said.

But it has a dark side.

"I've seen things," said Murphy, who has been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. "Things most people never dream of seeing."

He grew uncomfortable when he recalled a Sunday morning in 1999 when a 9-year-old boy was playing with his grandfather's shotgun and pointed it at his 7-year-old brother.

Then the older boy accidently "blew his (brother's) head off," said Murphy, who responded to the incident. When he entered the room the shooting occurred in, "I couldn't see this little boy anywhere," he said.

It took him some time to process what he saw. Even today, when he sees a shirt similar to the yellow and blue rugby shirt the victim was wearing it "snaps me right back to that," said Murphy, who had known the family.

It took the help of his wife - who Murphy said is very supportive and "my biggest fan and also my biggest critic" - for the fire chief to realize that the shooting and other incidents had traumatized him. Eventually, he sought professional help.

One of his most difficult tasks as chief is to ask people to respond to a call he knows will be gruesome, like retrieving a body that has been in a pond for a week.

"That's the worst part of the job," said Murphy. But he does everything he can to ensure the health of his staff. He calls and thanks them for everything they do and makes sure professional help is available to those who need it.

There have been times Murphy considered quitting, such as when his doctor told him it was going to be difficult to treat him because he was experiencing more and more trauma with every call.

But he decided he wasn't ready to let the fire department go. He takes pride in continuing his family's tradition of volunteer service. His mother and wife are EMTs and his grandfather was a firefighter. His nephew recently joined the Niantic Fire Department.

"This is where I belong," he said. "This is what makes me feel good."

K.CATALFAMO@THEDAY.COM