Sometimes, it's more important to be first than it is to be right. One of those times was last Dec. 7, for Eddie Rainville of Griswold, as he headed home on Route 201.

"I was just going down the road, came up over a little hill," he said. "When I came around the curve, I saw a car on fire. I called 911."

State police released a recording of the call this week. It was the first report of the car crash that killed Griswold High School students John Clapper, Sativa Cornell, Steven Szklarz and Dillon Clifford. A fifth occupant, Joel Gallup, is recovering from his injuries, including breaks to both legs, one arm and several facial bones.

"It's flipped over. There's bodies in there, too, man," Rainville is heard to say on the call.

Rainville did exactly the right thing. He called 911 as quickly as he could and reported what he saw with his first take, as shocking, and as disconcerting, as that might have been.

Actually, though, the car was not on fire. The engine was, but it was about 6 feet from the car, torn away in the crash. The car had not flipped over, either.

"I don't even remember saying that," he told me, after having listening to his call.

It doesn't matter, though. That's fine. In an emergency, it's all about making the call. What mattered was, there had been a terrible accident and professionals needed to get there as soon as possible. Any more analysis would have been wasted time.

When the recording was released I tried to contact Rainville. He hung up on me. The next day he read about himself in the news and called me back.

"It was 10 o'clock at night," he said. "I thought you were a telemarketer."

He said when he realized I was member of the media, he wanted to talk because there was something he felt the public should know.

Rainville said he called 911 even as he was getting out of his car, more than 100 yards from the crash. His call was about over by the time he scrutinized the situation. Yet, he had to go to the car, with hope that there was something he could do. This father of three daughters, including two who attend Griswold High School, and one who is a new driver, was stunned by the sights and sounds.

"I could see into the car, but I couldn't see any faces," he said. "For a minute I thought I saw a child seat. I prayed there were no infants in there. Of course I found out later that there weren't, but ... "

"If one of my own kids had been in there I wouldn't have even known it." He paused here before going on to say, "I can't imagine ... " That thought prompted a serious father-to-daughters chat, some hugs and re-emphasizing of the rules of the road, the car and the house, he said.

The message Rainville really wants to deliver, though, is one of gratitude and admiration, for the professionals, volunteer and paid, who responded to that heart-wrenching scene.

Sometimes we're thrust into a position of doing a job we would never volunteer to do, and yet could never refuse to do when called upon by fate. That was Rainville on Dec. 7. And he did his job well.

Then there are those who are trained to deal with, and seem to be born with, the fortitude to execute the duties necessary in such horrific circumstances. They save lives. And when they can't, they preserve dignity, decency and respect.

"They are fantastic. They do the unthinkable job. They do it efficiently, with stomachs lined with steel," Rainville said. "I really felt like I needed to say thank you to them, the firefighters, the rescue people, ambulance, State Police. ... They're Class-A Americans. I wish there was more I could have done."

I'd say he did exactly what he was called upon to do.

This is the opinion of Chuck Potter.