Links to other sites on the Web
Emily pushed aside the heavy yellow material of her shirt and looked down at her watch. 2:38, it read. Whew, she thought, just another five hours until dinner. She remembered ruefully that breakfast had been ten hours ago. Her stomach grumbled a little. Matt, her engine leader, glanced up at her with a little smile. She returned the smile weakly and picked up her shovel. Tromping slowly down to a smoldering log, Emily began to hack away at the bark with the edge of the shovel. Her crewmate Chris saw her effort, and came to help, using his ax/hoe combination tool, a pulaski.
They were working on a �spot fire,� or fire outside the main fire, with about fifteen other wildland firefighters in the eastern Cascade foothills. They had arrived on this fire the day before. At that time, it was burning uncontained, and retardant planes had been dumping their bright red, fire retardant loads continuously. It had been really exciting, and everyone on the team of five engines Emily was working with had been really pumped. Engine crews rarely got to see uncontained fires, as many fires started in forests without road access. Not that this one was any better, really. They had had to hike about a mile down into a steep ravine and up the other side just to reach the spot fire. The main fire was actually above them. Emily paused to look up, towards it. The only thing visible was a hazy mass of light brown smoke.
Rob, a crew person from engine 865 came down, and began to help Chris with the bark. Emily drew away, and walked slowly up the steep hill towards the larger log, which was still glowing with red embers. A ten-man prison inmate crew was at work on the upper end of the log. A couple of engine people were attending them, pumping in water from a portable pump located in the stream right below them. Emily drove the shovel into the hot dirt below the log, and began to dump it away from the log. All that heat insulates the smoldering wood, she was thinking, as Matt bumped her on the elbow.
�Hey, look at that,� he said, motioning up at the mountain above them.
Emily extracted her shovel and leaned on it, looking up where he was pointing. A cloud of oily black smoke was pouring out of a copse of trees to their left. Emily grinned at Matt.
�Looks like we might have some action yet,� she said. �After all, it is almost three o�clock, peak fire activity time!�
Chris came up behind them. He had his camera out. He was excited. This was his first fire, as he had only joined their crew a couple of weeks before. As the youngest on their crew of three, he was also the hardest worker. He was very proud of his work ethic. He had been working on a construction crew until the legislature had approved the hire of third persons for state engine crews. A little smile grew on his face, thinking about how much his girlfriend was worried about the fire fighting. He enjoyed teasing her, but he knew this wasn�t a really dangerous job. Not if you were smart. The main fire was a long way away, and though Emily was obviously hoping for a little more excitement, things would have to change a lot for her wish to come true.
Chris finished taking photos. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that everyone else was still working. Taking a Starburst from his breast pocket and eating it, he took up the pulaski and started to chop on the larger log Emily had been working on. Taking his cue, she stopped gawking and returned to her place by the log. Rob rejoined Chris. Poor guy, Chris thought. His own crew was pretty loony seeming. Especially that old, long haired hippie guy, Mark.
Matt stayed still, looking at the fire a little longer and listening to the King two-way radio in the radio bra strapped to his chest. He enjoyed this aspect of being an engine leader. He was able to let his crew do the larger part of the work, and he got some pretty fun toys to play with. And the pay was a lot better than crew wages. If nothing else, that made the difference to him. For the last two hours he�d been making overtime, which was time and a half. He started to calculate how much that would be, but stopped short.
�Hey,� he called to Emily and Chris. �It�s starting to torch!�
His crew walked over quickly. The clouds of black smoke were suddenly churning above them, washing the sky with their inky, boiling mass.
�I can hear it burning,� Chris exclaimed.
He was right. Emily could hear the whoosh as the superheated air rushed through the flaming trees.
�Guys,� Emily said, �There�s a thunderhead moving in.�
Matt looked, and through the smoke, it was possible to see an anvil head thundercloud moving into the area. There had been a prediction like this, but he had treated it the way he treated the news when there was a prediction of snow. This thunder cell was for serious, though. Matt knew it was food to the fire behavior. He looked at Emily. Though thrilled by the flames, she was definitely getting nervous. Three o�clock really was the time when fire behavior was at its most volatile, as it was the hottest and driest part of the day. With a thunderhead, things could get nasty fast. He lifted the radio near his mouth, and called for Todd, their strike team leader.
�Welker from Dearborn,� Matt called.
�Welker,� Todd�s voice said, a bit indistinctly. The repeaters weren�t working very well yet, as this was only the second day.
�Todd, the fire is acting up down here. Can you see it more clearly than we can?�
There was a long pause. Someone else began to talk, then Todd cut in.
�No, not really, Matt. Hold on a minute, I�ll call the division supervisor.�
Matt and Emily listened as Todd got ahold of his supervisor, and related Matt�s question to him. The supervisor asked Todd to hold, and contacted the lookout. The lookout said everything looked fine. They could continue to work. Todd called Matt back, and asked if he copied. Matt had.
Emily listened to this conversation with misgivings. She knew she had to be fair, and to continue doing her job, but this made her nervous. She suddenly wished she�d brought down her mom�s cell phone from the engine. She desperately wanted to call Jeff. Even if nothing happened, he would be so jealous of this fire activity. He was on home guard. Her heart fluttering with anxiety, she returned to work. But she kept one eye on the fire, instead of the inmates. Suddenly they were the lesser threat.
Scott, an engine leader who had been working the pump, came up to talk to Matt. Emily quickly gave up her attempt at quenching the heat, and joined them. They were eyeballing the smoke. Scott�s dad was a firefighter and forester for the state; he often seemed fearless. Emily envied that. But he was very level headed, and she listened carefully as he expressed some concern. He left soon, as he didn�t want to leave his crew person alone in the gully. Emily and Matt stood together, watching the smoke.
Then the smoke wasn�t just smoke. Breaking into the open, flames roared above them. Right above them, only four hundred yards distant. All of the engine workers paused to look up at the inferno. Emily thought carefully about what it would mean if they were cut off from their engines. They were all carrying fusees, which were basically really big, long lasting candles, to burn off grasses and sage if they were trapped. They had a large open space of sage between them and the fire, but suddenly Emily didn�t feel like it was so safe. They were an hour�s drive from pavement, and probably a half-hour�s walk from the road that was on the opposite ridge. And that would be an uphill walk, through really heavy timber. Emily had not forgotten, never forgotten, that fire burns uphill much faster than it can be outrun. They needed to get to the engines. If nothing else, they would have 600 gallons of water to help protect them. Her hands shook on her shovel.
Chris watched Emily, and the fear that was crossing her features. He felt it echoed in himself. His mingled excitement and alarm tangled his tongue, so he could not say anything. He stuffed his gloves into a pocket on the padded belt he wore, and pulled out a quart of water. Sloshing the nearly full bottle, he took a good deep draught and offered it to Matt. Matt shook his head, but pulled out his own bottle. The flames crackled ominously above them.
A stocky man with a round, closely shorn head came out of the forest below them. He was followed by two engine workers, dressed in the characteristic green pants and yellow shirt that they all wore. It was Todd, the boss. He came up the hill slowly, carrying his weight only the way a heavy man can. When he got up to them, he placed his hands on his hips and breathed deeply for a few minutes, before he began to talk. He spent this time surveying the scene. Embers began to fall from the sky.
�Its getting worse,� Matt said, unable to wait any longer. �Should we start packing up?�
�Yes,� Todd expelled his breath, and suddenly was able to speak. �If nothing happens, we�ll set back up again, but I think it would be smart to start packing up the equipment.�
Matt received this with relief. As the engine leader, he was responsible for Emily and Chris. They followed his orders. He was more than willing to let someone else take the lead when it might mean their lives. He started down the hill to tell Scott what Todd had said. Halfway there, he heard Mark call Scott on the little radios used for inter-crew communication. He turned around, to go back up, and saw Emily trailing him. She was clearly upset. He turned around again, and finished the short journey to the stream. He could see Scott and Jay through the trees when the pump sputtered and died.
Chris watched Matt and Emily head down into the stream gully. He bent his back to work, realizing that his fear was real. He had been wrong, and this fire could threaten his life. He felt suddenly very vulnerable, and miserable. He also felt very isolated; Matt and Emily had known each other for years, and they both knew many of the other crew people. No one Chris had met at his training had come to this fire. He turned off these thoughts, and turned on his camera. The flames were nearer now. The smoke was thicker, and even the spot they were working on was hotter than a few minutes ago. He looked up, and thought he could distinguish the anvil head shape of a thunder cell. Distracted, he worked and watched the cloud. He was surprised when Emily came up to him, calling his name.
�Chris,� she said, �Chris, we�re leaving!�
Panic was underlying her voice and emotions. Her heart fluttered madly, and she stared at the flames with the same expression as a deer staring into headlights. They lined up behind the inmate crew, and started walking. Emily�s feet seemed to have a mind of their own. It was all she could do to harness them, and keep them from running. The narrow path led down, and suddenly they were stopped. She railed against the delay; unsure of whether she spoke aloud or not, she now firmly shut her mouth. She glanced around. Matt and Chris were walking up a little hill to a pile of gear. Todd was handing out equipment from the pile. Emily remembered that they had left the expensive pump behind; why were they trying to save shovels and adzes hoes now? She rushed up the hill, to be with her crew. It was important to stay with people; they will make sure you make it out, she thought to herself. 863�s Eric Cohen held out a backpack, with a couple fusees in it. It certainly could not be left. Emily snatched it, and an extra adzes hoe.
It was clear now that the convict crew wasn�t moving very fast. The crew boss was older and overweight. Todd told his crews to start out, but stay together. Emily carefully stayed near to Chris and Matt, heeding her own warning.
They crossed the narrow creek, and started up onto the opposite side. It was such thick timber, and they had been working so shortly in the area, that there was no path. Only ash and dust. Emily�s endorphins were starting to give out. With a half-mile left to go, it was all uphill. She felt the heat of the blaze behind her, the huge inferno. The black smoke filling the sky. The day was still sweltering, exceeding ninety degrees easily. Emily tried to stay calm, to stop and drink from her water bottles. It was impossible. She was panicking.
The last two hundred yards at last came into view. And Emily�s strength gave out. She stopped dead, looking up with dull, frantic eyes at the engine so close, and the fire still too near. Matt stopped with her. She gave him a thankful look. He took the backpack and hoe. Someone else took the shovel. She was embarrassed that she was no longer carrying her own load, but she was by far too scared to care. Chris had gone ahead of them, and through the haze of smoke, she could see he was at the head of the group of firefighters. The blaze had gotten to him too. But he was in better shape.
She collected herself, and pushed off, intending to take the whole hill at once. She had to stop again, only thirty feet further along. Matt stopped too.
�Do you have any water left?� Matt asked. He was every inch the authority now, despite the fact they had been fighting fire the same length of time. Emily was very glad he was with her. She shook her head. He gave her his bottle, and five more firefighters streamed past. They looked calm, far calmer than Emily could imagine anyone could be in this situation.
Thirty feet, and thirty feet again. Water, more walking. The last twenty feet brought Emily gasping to the landing, and to her beloved �Becky,� Engine 962. She stumbled over to the engine, opened the door, and grabbed her camera and a bottle of Powerade. Chris was up above the landing, taking picture after picture of the raging fire. Emily leaned against back of the engine, the icy sweat rolling down her back. She gulped down the Powerade. Matt gave her a goofy smile.
�Thank you, Matt,� she said, already knowing how much she appreciated it. Matt shrugged and looked away as if he hadn�t heard. Emily turned on her camera.
Embers were falling from the sky, whole pine needles still glowing. The column of smoke, now easily seen, rose thousands of feet into the air. A strange twilight covered the land. A gust of wind sighed across the steep sage plane, and suddenly the sage was burning madly with twenty-foot flame lengths. It leapt over the containing lines and raced across the sage. Emily felt a handful of raindrops land on her bare face. The fire was creating its own weather.
Cameras flashed twenty, one hundred times, as the firefighters captured on film the terrible inferno. The red jumpers of the inmates and the yellow and green of the state firefighters mixed together, a whole unit. They had made the first part of their escape. They were going to make it out alive.
Links to other sites on the Web
© 2000 [email protected]
