Close Calls Remembered
Bristol
“To see what is in front of one’s nose requires a constant struggle.” George Orwell; famous literary, who’s real name was Eric Blair.
When we can learn all of the reasons why people choose not use common sense and why they choose to ignore the obvious, we will have achieved greatness. Even with today’s technology, I fear this mystery will remain as such for some time to come.
In especially the last few years, I have been taught by my mentors, with fact to back up their teachings, that we do not need to have an apocalyptic conflagration in order for people to get injured. Small fire incidents, or episodes on small parts of larger fires, are a common denominator in many fatal and near miss events. I have tried very hard to pass along this fact whenever the opportunity presents itself, the chance occurs often, and I have never had a problem with being at a loss for words, so… seize the day. The Latin phrase “Carpe Diem” literally means “pluck the day” this was King Solomon’s point made in Ecclesiastes 9:10, live life fully, seize the day. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest.” Further, there is an old proverb that states; “Opportunities neglected can never be recovered.” I do not like to play games such as; if only, or would have, should have, could have.
It has become very evident to me that too many folks do not take small fires serious simply because they are small. Constantly I hear statements like; “oh it’s just a stinkin little grass fire.” In my mind, fire is fire and we must never let our guard down. Just stinking little grass fires, have been responsible for far too many fatalities and near misses.
If we consider a bear, most normal folks will give it it’s space out of respect gained from it’s reputation as a dangerous critter. At the same time, most folks with an ounce of sense will respect a little critter such as black widow spider for the same reasons. Yet, put folks in contact with flames of any kind and more times than not, respect for fire, another dangerous critter, goes on a trip to the unknown.
There are folks out there that are schooled in the human behavioral arts, wily in the ways of such things, that explain why folks are bound to do the things they do where fire is concerned. I’ve read a lot of different views on the reasons why, written by a host of just such aforementioned clever people, with just as many different explanations for the why. I tend to agree with Sigmund Freud; According to Freud, (1856-1939), human beings are just mechanical creatures, which he viewed as prisoners of primitive instincts and powers, which we can barely control. (thinkquest.org) Man the protector, man the hero, man the larger and stronger of the sexes, man and his need to be the center of attention. His need to prove to the world that he is fearless. So silly, yet unavoidable, is man’s vanity; it preoccupies his mind so much, unconsciously his inherent ability to overlook the obvious is his master. A woman on the other hand, overextends herself to gain acceptance through constantly trying to prove herself worthy.
As I look back on my early days in the department, it wasn’t that much different than a glorified circus, most of the time I was never really sure which department lord I was to serve. One lad would set you to doing one thing, and another would come as quick as the first was gone with a brand new number one priority; that was a cause, indecision and confusion was the effect. In a host of ways, it hasn’t changed much. Although, I will have to admit that it was worse back then than now. I guess ours is no different than any other organization, a never ending work in progress. It is this way because we have not learned how not to take two steps ahead and three back. This can be partly explained in as much as, just when folks have their head above the drowning line, and they seem to be making headway, its time to retire, or move on. The new people replacing these individuals normally have to relearn what the former took with them when they left. If the person is not replaced, the lesson is lost until they are, because there is no one to keep the lesson from being learned over and over again, by a cast of many different players.
The call came in reporting that fire had escaped into the woods from a local dump near Bristol. If we can get to a fire while it is small, before it gets it’s legs under it, we have a much better chance of keeping it that way. The significance of keeping fires small in our district was the high value of timber. This was further compounded by an ever growing Urban Interface issue. So there were never any spiders building webs on us when it came to responding to a fire call.
Old Thunder Rock, our engine, wasn’t near as speedy as normal vehicles, so there would generally be one of the lads in a half ton on site long before me. Back then I usually drove the engine; such was the case on this fire call. Doug and Brian arrived at the fire before me. Donnie was another five minutes back from me as he was not at the office when the call came in.
I was quite content with the fact that most times there were other lads on site before me. This made way for someone of higher rank to be in charge, or as we affectionately referred to them; “the antlered ones.” On this day, Doug had the antlers on. This was befitting and right as far as I was concerned. At this point I was not ready to be in charge. I was merely a young button buck with much to learn before I felt the weight of antlers.
As I approached the area in which the fire was burning, I could see the smoke boiling up above the tree line. I was able to ascertain from the smoke, that it certainly was a hot fire in concentrated areas; however, it was no fire storm either.
All uncontrolled wildfires have to be taken very seriously, because fire is skilled in the ways of tyranny, if left unchecked, fire will very quickly be the one wearing the antlers; and he can be a very cruel and unfeeling potentate. I could tell that Doug wasn’t ready to relinquish power to an upstart tyrant with aspirations of a hostile takeover, he didn’t mince any words on the radio; “Git that tanker in here as quick as ya can, this damn thing is near ta goin ugly on us! Come on in the lower road an don’t waste no time!”
About the time I was starting in the lower road, Don came on the radio; “I’m just now comin over the hill behind ya Ran, (In those days some folks called me Ran, some still do.) it looks ta me like ya’d be better off goin in the upper road.” Just as quick as I heard that, I fetched Ol Thunder Rock to a halt. Doug hearing this broke in with; “Ya Don, we need im ta come in the lower road, its the quickest way ta git ta where he needs ta be.” Don came back with; “Ya I hear ya, it jus seems like from here, there’s a lot less smoke on the upper end.” Unbeknown to me at the time, Don was trying to tell us that it would likely be safer to go in the upper road. From his vantage point he could see what the wind was doing to the fire. I’ve heard it said; “say what you mean and mean what you say!” But Don being Don, didn’t want to make Doug think he didn’t trust his judgment. Doug then said; “Yup I know, I’m in here, most of the heat is closer to the lower end; we need im ta git to the stuff on the edge where I’m at.” Don simply said; “Okay wha’d ever ya think. D’you read that Ran?” I said; “Yesir, I’m on my way.” The phrase “fools rush in” comes to mind. Meanwhile, in the time it took to fathom all that out, while I was setting there waiting, old man fire was commencing to grow points on his teeth. Father always told me that a man’s got to crawl before he walks and he’s got to walk before he runs. I guess its no different with fire. This fire was way past crawling; he was into a well established walk, feeling the need to jog, with aspirations of becoming all he could be. But then, all fires have these same visions of grandeur.
Over the years, I’d been to this same vicinity a time or three; fires getting out of dumps were a regular occurrence hereabout’s. A conundrum I’ve pondered on too many times to count, with no clear revelation, is the fact that wildfires seem to start in places that are hard to get too. Its almost like the damn thing is trying to outthink us, down right eerie is what it is. The roads we used to access fires, if there was a road at all, in a lot of cases, left much to be desired. This fire had opted to follow the norm and spring itself to life, like some such absconder, in just such a spot. The road was narrow, rough, and full of hair pin turns.
So, I made my way in on this badger trail that had all the smoothness of the plowed head land of an old tater field, which made the going ahead slow, and the backing up very troublesome, if not impossible. Back on the farm, my old uncle Richard used to call me a go ahead driver. I never have been akin to backing up; always found it a bit taxing to say the least, and that was in good going with few obstacles.
As I pushed onward, I had a notion that this was not a good thing for me to be doing. I could see the wind was blowing the smoke diagonally towards me. Those little hairs on the back of my neck were starting to stick out. I knew that if the wind was blowing smoke at me, and the fire was beyond me, the likelihood of the fire coming at me was a reasonable prospect. There is an old saying that says; “Folks who talk to themselves have money in the bank.” I guess I do it for some other reason. Mayhap I get this from my Grandfather, who had many long conversations with himself on a daily basis. My wife says its because I’m the only one that truly wants to hear my rambling on. This time was no different, I was a yammering on, the only thing I have never quite figured out is, why in the world do I so seldom listen to what I am saying? And why am I so hell bent on keeping other folks out of the conversation? “Now this here is a death trap if I ever did see one… Ya damned fool… yup… jus head on in this here trail the ol cow shunned… ya oughta git yerself on back outta here… easy fer them lads ta say gid in here… they ain’t gotta bring this here outfit in over this here trail…expendable…thad’s wha’d I am.” I was telling myself the right thing to do, but, what did I know about raising rabbits?* Get to where Doug wants me is all that I allowed myself to register.
I would like to reintroduce you to the opening remarks of this writing.
*This is a local saying we have; in other words, what did I know about anything?
I only wish I knew how many folks actually took the time to go back and reread the first few lines.
I drove a few more ill-mannered yards then as quick as it took me to make a hard right turn; I realized I had placed myself and Ol Thunder Rock into one hell of a convoluted situation. Thick dark grey smoke swept up and embraced my arrival as I made the turn. Unable to see no better than if I was inside a cow, I stopped the truck abruptly. I reassured myself that the smoke would lift and I would be okay, the wind seemed to be holding it down, surely it would soon subside. Instead, the reverse appeared to hold true.
I had been in tight spots before, places that reacquainted me with the Old Feller* himself. None that came to mind were snugger than this. I have a considerable dislike for perilous things; especially the ones I can’t see yet know exist. The old saying was in the forefront of my mind; “Where there is smoke there is fire.” The fact of the matter was, there was smoke everywhere, and I couldn’t see, hear, or feel the fire. Yet, I knew it was there. Not being able to see the fire to actually know what it was up too, made this state of affairs even more precarious. To add to my despair, the smoke that was now seeping into the cab of Ol Thunder Rock, did not have the familiar smell of wood burning, this was different, and this being next to a dump, Lord only knew what strange and wonderful toxins I was breathing.
I got in touch with Doug on the radio; “I’m in a fine fix now…I can’t see ta go ahead…an I sure can’t back up…an the cab is fillin up with smoke…I’m gonna hit the siren…can ya tell me how close I am ta gittin clear a this mess?” “Ya well yer okay…go ahead with the siren…let’er rip.” I hit the switch and let fly with a long yelp. “D’ya hear that?” “Ya I kin hear ya…yer almost through…there ain’t nothin ta worry bout…now git yerself in here.”
The fact that Doug thought I was okay did little to reassure me that I was; and I told myself so. “Ya… sure… I’m okay…don’t worry bout me none…I’ll be jus fine…if he was in here with me, she’d be a different story.” “Ya well…I can’t see no farther than wha’d I could throw this thing… wha’d if I put’er off the road and git er swamped…in this here soup…wha’d then?” “I toll ya…yer okay don’t worry bout it…just poke er through…an be quick about it.” I kept muttering to myself as I put Ol Thunder Rock up in bulldog** and began to crawl ahead by feel.
Later, it occurred to me that Doug was, in his way, trying to help me. He knew I just couldn’t stay where I was and suffocate, or have the fire burn up to me. Doug was just trying to keep me from panicking. He was, as usual, a bit peculiar about how he achieved this. He had his ways, like everyone does. Another thing he didn’t want, I found out later, was for me to abandon Ol Thunder Rock. This may sound strange, but the thought had crossed my mind. Perhaps Doug knew me better than I thought. I knew that a vehicle was not conceivably the best place to be if the fire, God forbid, did over run me, but it sure was better than no protection at all. Knowing this gave me the sense to do away with the thought of fleeing the truck.
* Slang name for God. ** Low gear.
I still saw no sign of flame. The fire had to be getting closer. I advanced slowly, almost inch by inch. I was up on the wheel of the truck straining to see the road. In desperation to see better, I rolled down my window. A strange humid warmth engulfed me as the thick brownish smoke bulled it’s way into the cab. Quickly realizing that this was a mistake, I rolled the window back up.
Now my eyes were burning and tears began to roll down my cheeks. I remember shaking my head back in forth, rubbing my eyes on my shirt sleeve. I was also struggling to breathe. In between coughing fits, I was taking short quick breaths that seemed like bits of sandpaper roughing their way down my throat. I gripped the steering wheel with all the power I could muster. My jaws were clenched tight, I felt and heard the air I breathed as it hissed through my teeth. Don was talking on the radio, I knew it was his voice, what he was saying, or who he was saying it too, was not registering. I felt myself half slipping into a daze, as if someone had hit the slow motion button.
Suddenly the front driver’s side wheel dropped into what must have been a hole. The steering wheel spun through my grip violently to the left. I thumped both feet down hard on the break and clutch. This had jarred me back to reality. The Old Feller and his mysterious ways are a wondrous thing. I immediately jammed the gear shift into reverse. Before Ol Thunder Rock had completely stopped his forward thrust, I was rudely persuading him to go back. Fortunately, I was able to get back up out of the hole.
I sat there, my mind racing, what do I do? “Come on Lunkhead…pull yerself ta geather…it can’t be that much farther…jus take er easy an go careful and you’ll be jus fine...You’ve had yer tail in worse places than this…an ya sure can’t stay here.” As I consider it now, I am glad that I do talk to myself every so often. I guess likely its one way I keep myself from panicking. I know most folks do this quietly to themselves, but then if I was to do that, folks would think I had gone funny in the head or some such thing. Who you are is who you are, you can fine tune what you have been blessed with; smooth the edges so to speak. But try as you may, like so many folks seem so obliged to do, you will never really and truly change a persons personality. I’m not talking about changing a persons views on things; I’m talking about their inner self. Some might claim they have been successful with such an endeavor, truth be known, I figure it to be dinged for a story. If a body is born and raised mean spirited they will likely die the same. As a further case in point, take my wife for example; she is all content with herself thinking she has molded me into some kind of art form of her choosing. When in fact, I am just the same as I ever was; I simply choose to let her think that I have changed to her liking. I guess likely, at the risk of sounding like a braggart, I am a very good actor because I have her bamboozled. I do everything she wants, when she wants, and in the way she wants, why I even do her bidding most times, without giving it much thought, this keeps her happy. I even let on as though I enjoy it. Yes sir, I can truly say she hasn’t changed me one bit.
Doug came on the radio. “Smith…you okay? Give yer siren another shot.” I was now rolling very slowly ahead once again. Carefully, I held to the right as best as I could so as not to go into that hole again. I fumbled for the mic and found it. “Ya…I’m okay… a bit smoked in…but I’m okay…here goes the siren.” After a long yelp. “Good…I can hear ya…yer close ta through…keep er comin…” I sensed a change in Doug’s voice. He now seemed almost excited. This gave me a new feeling of relief. I thought, if Doug seems that happy, then surely I must be close to being free and clear…Safe!
Cautiously, I kept going ahead. Each foot seemed like a mile, even more so now that I thought I was close. Finally, there it was, ahead the smoke was clearing. The thick dense cloud that had encompassed me was giving way to a lighter bluish to white type of smoke. Now that I could see the road, I sped the truck up to break free even quicker. As I exited the smoke, in the mirror I watched it curl and swirl away from me. It put me in mind of a living being reaching out as if to try and grab something back that it had just lost.
Now free, I quickly rolled my window down as I continued to drive. The fresh cool oxygen filled air poured itself over me. This lulled me into an almost euphoric state. I blinked my eyes with joy. My lungs tingled with life, as I breathed long and as deep as I could, in between trying to cough up a lung or two. Soon, through still somewhat blurry and stinging eyes, I could see Doug with Brian standing next to him. Beside them I could see a Bristol fire department engine. There were firefighters directing water onto the fire from two lines that snaked away from this engine. As I got closer, I could see another fire truck beyond the Bristol engine. When I got nearer, I could see that there were two lines and firefighters coming from this engine which I now recognized as a Florenceville fire department truck.
Seeing these engines, learning for the first time they were there, had me drawing mixed reviews from my inner critic. On the one hand it was good to see that the fire was being knocked down and there was ample help. On the other, it would have been nice to know that they were there. I had this terrible yearning to fly off half cocked and light into Doug without first learning the facts, I thought better of this and choked back the want too. I asked myself, why hadn’t Doug told me we had this help? Why hadn’t he sent a line my way to support me and my predicament? Why had I been asked to come in the way I did if there was already that help there? Why a lot of things. I was determined to find out.
After confronting Doug I learned that he was using the firefighters as best as he could to direct the fire away from me. The not letting me know they were there was a misassumption; he thought I knew. And the thing that he revealed to me that riled me the most, he didn’t think I was in any kind of serious trouble. He thought I was making more of it than what I needed too. Knowing that he had a lot on his mind, and that anyone can make mistakes, I let go of my initial harsh assessment. It would serve no good purpose.
To be quite honest, Doug was one of my supervisors. It was in my mind that pursuing the fact that I was upset would only buy me unwanted and unneeded heart ache. Besides this, I knew deep down that Doug would never want any harm to come to me or anyone else. Maybe in his mind, it was his way of keeping calm himself, don’t admit that it is serious, and somehow by doing this, it would seem less grievous.
In retrospect, I am not free of guilt. I should have clearly told Doug the peril I was confronting. I should not have assumed that he, or anyone, would automatically know this. Grumbling the facts to myself fell on ears with no power, or sense, to change my condition.
With the help of some Bristol firefighters, two lines were laid from Ol Thunder Rock. And then, there was the high pitched whine of the pump mixed with the steady roar of the engine, it was a familiar song that Thunder Rock had sang to me many times. At the risk of sounding eccentric, in a lot of ways I think of that old truck as a true friend. If I really consider it, I guess it really isn’t all that odd, he and I have been through a lot over the years.
I watched as the firefighters wrestled with the water charged lines, and then direct the streams onto the fire. At the quarter inch tips of the inch and a half barrels nozzles, one hundred and eighty pounds of pressure was produced. Working these lines was a trying task for two people on each line, especially on the uneven footing of the wildland. If a person had the luxury of getting a chance to do it all day, which I had many times, they wouldn’t find it necessary to go into deep meditation as to whether they had completed a days work or not, least wise I never felt the need.
I now had the time to stand back and really have a good look at what was going on around me. From what I could tell, any place that the fire had escaped the confines of the dump into the forest, was now devoid of open flame. I surmised, that this was another small fire that felt the need to try on giant shoes and found that they were too large to fill. Yet, as insignificant as this fire was in size, it’s threat taught me well, a series of hard learned lessons that I have never forgotten.
Notations for consideration, and perhaps discussion with other readers:
Break this down using each leg of LACES; Lookouts, Anchor Points, Communications, Escape Routes, Safety Zones. How many legs were broken? If LACES had of been in place, could it have made a difference?
What was the fire telling me as I approached the site? Should what we are seeing, what the fire is telling us, prompt us to ask questions before wadding into a dangerous situation? In my mind, one of the most important things we can do is learn to read and accept what the fire is telling us.
Getting to, and keeping fire small is very important. Should we be accessing fire the quickest way in every circumstance?
How important is it that we say what we mean when communicating? Is it ever safe to assume others know the same facts you do?
While enroute to an incident, we form a picture in our mind of the situation we will face when we arrive on scene. It is very important to have a good operational plan started; this will form a good foundation from which to build on. Questions asked, for example, should be; what equipment and man power will we need?
What importance do you place on this? Is there anything else you would consider?
Do you think that better training could have played a role in this incident?
List all the contributing factors that you can think of which led to this smoke entrapment.
There was no after fire review for this incident, do you think that a review would have been beneficial?
Should you have to fear bringing up safety concerns to your supervisors?
As always; consider the fire weather indices, the lack there of, and the same for fire behavior. For your information, the indices were unknown and there was no consideration for potential or current fire behavior.
Was luck a factor in this situation?
Try to identify as many unsafe acts as possible. Think about what you would have done differently.
Do you think that the entrapment in the smoke was something unforeseeable, or was it predictable? Could it have been prevented?
There was never any close threat from fire, so how serious do you think this smoke entrapment really was? Could lives have been lost? If so, what lives do you think were in jeopardy?
Do you think staying in the truck was a wise thing to do? Would you have stayed with the truck, or would you have tried to walk out?
Can you think of any other perils besides the fire and the smoke?
What is the likelihood of this happening on fires in the future? I have often heard folks say, “Oh that only happens out West or in the States.” How true do you think this statement is? Can it happen here…. again?
Experience is a good teacher. It has taught me a lot. Is it always the best teacher?
Do you think if a life had been lost in this situation that it could be considered as, it goes with the territory? In other words, is death and risk of injury just part of a firefighter’s dangerous job that he or she must learn to accept?
What difference did my getting to Doug really make?
There is no way for me to know how many folks have ever been trapped by smoke. I know that it has happened to me more times than I would like. Some events were more serious than others, some longer lasting than others. John Wayne once said; “The man that fears nothing…he’s a fool.” I strongly agree with this statement. Every time that I have been cornered by smoke or fire, I am not ashamed to admit, I was afraid. On this incident I was terrified.
I have spent many long hours trying to come up with ways to open folk’s eyes to safety, with strong emphasis on keeping people safe from burns. This is very important, one burn over is one too many it should never happen. As long as I draw breath I will do what I can to prevent it.
I have further said many times that everything that walks, crawls, or flies, on a wildland fire, is out to get us. As important as it is to prevent burns, we must also realize there are many other things that possess the ability to do us in. This includes smoke, along with all of it’s hazards.
Until next time, above all else, Stay Safe! RL Tex Smith December 22, 2005
Bristol
“To see what is in front of one’s nose requires a constant struggle.” George Orwell; famous literary, who’s real name was Eric Blair.
When we can learn all of the reasons why people choose not use common sense and why they choose to ignore the obvious, we will have achieved greatness. Even with today’s technology, I fear this mystery will remain as such for some time to come.
In especially the last few years, I have been taught by my mentors, with fact to back up their teachings, that we do not need to have an apocalyptic conflagration in order for people to get injured. Small fire incidents, or episodes on small parts of larger fires, are a common denominator in many fatal and near miss events. I have tried very hard to pass along this fact whenever the opportunity presents itself, the chance occurs often, and I have never had a problem with being at a loss for words, so… seize the day. The Latin phrase “Carpe Diem” literally means “pluck the day” this was King Solomon’s point made in Ecclesiastes 9:10, live life fully, seize the day. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest.” Further, there is an old proverb that states; “Opportunities neglected can never be recovered.” I do not like to play games such as; if only, or would have, should have, could have.
It has become very evident to me that too many folks do not take small fires serious simply because they are small. Constantly I hear statements like; “oh it’s just a stinkin little grass fire.” In my mind, fire is fire and we must never let our guard down. Just stinking little grass fires, have been responsible for far too many fatalities and near misses.
If we consider a bear, most normal folks will give it it’s space out of respect gained from it’s reputation as a dangerous critter. At the same time, most folks with an ounce of sense will respect a little critter such as black widow spider for the same reasons. Yet, put folks in contact with flames of any kind and more times than not, respect for fire, another dangerous critter, goes on a trip to the unknown.
There are folks out there that are schooled in the human behavioral arts, wily in the ways of such things, that explain why folks are bound to do the things they do where fire is concerned. I’ve read a lot of different views on the reasons why, written by a host of just such aforementioned clever people, with just as many different explanations for the why. I tend to agree with Sigmund Freud; According to Freud, (1856-1939), human beings are just mechanical creatures, which he viewed as prisoners of primitive instincts and powers, which we can barely control. (thinkquest.org) Man the protector, man the hero, man the larger and stronger of the sexes, man and his need to be the center of attention. His need to prove to the world that he is fearless. So silly, yet unavoidable, is man’s vanity; it preoccupies his mind so much, unconsciously his inherent ability to overlook the obvious is his master. A woman on the other hand, overextends herself to gain acceptance through constantly trying to prove herself worthy.
As I look back on my early days in the department, it wasn’t that much different than a glorified circus, most of the time I was never really sure which department lord I was to serve. One lad would set you to doing one thing, and another would come as quick as the first was gone with a brand new number one priority; that was a cause, indecision and confusion was the effect. In a host of ways, it hasn’t changed much. Although, I will have to admit that it was worse back then than now. I guess ours is no different than any other organization, a never ending work in progress. It is this way because we have not learned how not to take two steps ahead and three back. This can be partly explained in as much as, just when folks have their head above the drowning line, and they seem to be making headway, its time to retire, or move on. The new people replacing these individuals normally have to relearn what the former took with them when they left. If the person is not replaced, the lesson is lost until they are, because there is no one to keep the lesson from being learned over and over again, by a cast of many different players.
The call came in reporting that fire had escaped into the woods from a local dump near Bristol. If we can get to a fire while it is small, before it gets it’s legs under it, we have a much better chance of keeping it that way. The significance of keeping fires small in our district was the high value of timber. This was further compounded by an ever growing Urban Interface issue. So there were never any spiders building webs on us when it came to responding to a fire call.
Old Thunder Rock, our engine, wasn’t near as speedy as normal vehicles, so there would generally be one of the lads in a half ton on site long before me. Back then I usually drove the engine; such was the case on this fire call. Doug and Brian arrived at the fire before me. Donnie was another five minutes back from me as he was not at the office when the call came in.
I was quite content with the fact that most times there were other lads on site before me. This made way for someone of higher rank to be in charge, or as we affectionately referred to them; “the antlered ones.” On this day, Doug had the antlers on. This was befitting and right as far as I was concerned. At this point I was not ready to be in charge. I was merely a young button buck with much to learn before I felt the weight of antlers.
As I approached the area in which the fire was burning, I could see the smoke boiling up above the tree line. I was able to ascertain from the smoke, that it certainly was a hot fire in concentrated areas; however, it was no fire storm either.
All uncontrolled wildfires have to be taken very seriously, because fire is skilled in the ways of tyranny, if left unchecked, fire will very quickly be the one wearing the antlers; and he can be a very cruel and unfeeling potentate. I could tell that Doug wasn’t ready to relinquish power to an upstart tyrant with aspirations of a hostile takeover, he didn’t mince any words on the radio; “Git that tanker in here as quick as ya can, this damn thing is near ta goin ugly on us! Come on in the lower road an don’t waste no time!”
About the time I was starting in the lower road, Don came on the radio; “I’m just now comin over the hill behind ya Ran, (In those days some folks called me Ran, some still do.) it looks ta me like ya’d be better off goin in the upper road.” Just as quick as I heard that, I fetched Ol Thunder Rock to a halt. Doug hearing this broke in with; “Ya Don, we need im ta come in the lower road, its the quickest way ta git ta where he needs ta be.” Don came back with; “Ya I hear ya, it jus seems like from here, there’s a lot less smoke on the upper end.” Unbeknown to me at the time, Don was trying to tell us that it would likely be safer to go in the upper road. From his vantage point he could see what the wind was doing to the fire. I’ve heard it said; “say what you mean and mean what you say!” But Don being Don, didn’t want to make Doug think he didn’t trust his judgment. Doug then said; “Yup I know, I’m in here, most of the heat is closer to the lower end; we need im ta git to the stuff on the edge where I’m at.” Don simply said; “Okay wha’d ever ya think. D’you read that Ran?” I said; “Yesir, I’m on my way.” The phrase “fools rush in” comes to mind. Meanwhile, in the time it took to fathom all that out, while I was setting there waiting, old man fire was commencing to grow points on his teeth. Father always told me that a man’s got to crawl before he walks and he’s got to walk before he runs. I guess its no different with fire. This fire was way past crawling; he was into a well established walk, feeling the need to jog, with aspirations of becoming all he could be. But then, all fires have these same visions of grandeur.
Over the years, I’d been to this same vicinity a time or three; fires getting out of dumps were a regular occurrence hereabout’s. A conundrum I’ve pondered on too many times to count, with no clear revelation, is the fact that wildfires seem to start in places that are hard to get too. Its almost like the damn thing is trying to outthink us, down right eerie is what it is. The roads we used to access fires, if there was a road at all, in a lot of cases, left much to be desired. This fire had opted to follow the norm and spring itself to life, like some such absconder, in just such a spot. The road was narrow, rough, and full of hair pin turns.
So, I made my way in on this badger trail that had all the smoothness of the plowed head land of an old tater field, which made the going ahead slow, and the backing up very troublesome, if not impossible. Back on the farm, my old uncle Richard used to call me a go ahead driver. I never have been akin to backing up; always found it a bit taxing to say the least, and that was in good going with few obstacles.
As I pushed onward, I had a notion that this was not a good thing for me to be doing. I could see the wind was blowing the smoke diagonally towards me. Those little hairs on the back of my neck were starting to stick out. I knew that if the wind was blowing smoke at me, and the fire was beyond me, the likelihood of the fire coming at me was a reasonable prospect. There is an old saying that says; “Folks who talk to themselves have money in the bank.” I guess I do it for some other reason. Mayhap I get this from my Grandfather, who had many long conversations with himself on a daily basis. My wife says its because I’m the only one that truly wants to hear my rambling on. This time was no different, I was a yammering on, the only thing I have never quite figured out is, why in the world do I so seldom listen to what I am saying? And why am I so hell bent on keeping other folks out of the conversation? “Now this here is a death trap if I ever did see one… Ya damned fool… yup… jus head on in this here trail the ol cow shunned… ya oughta git yerself on back outta here… easy fer them lads ta say gid in here… they ain’t gotta bring this here outfit in over this here trail…expendable…thad’s wha’d I am.” I was telling myself the right thing to do, but, what did I know about raising rabbits?* Get to where Doug wants me is all that I allowed myself to register.
I would like to reintroduce you to the opening remarks of this writing.
*This is a local saying we have; in other words, what did I know about anything?
I only wish I knew how many folks actually took the time to go back and reread the first few lines.
I drove a few more ill-mannered yards then as quick as it took me to make a hard right turn; I realized I had placed myself and Ol Thunder Rock into one hell of a convoluted situation. Thick dark grey smoke swept up and embraced my arrival as I made the turn. Unable to see no better than if I was inside a cow, I stopped the truck abruptly. I reassured myself that the smoke would lift and I would be okay, the wind seemed to be holding it down, surely it would soon subside. Instead, the reverse appeared to hold true.
I had been in tight spots before, places that reacquainted me with the Old Feller* himself. None that came to mind were snugger than this. I have a considerable dislike for perilous things; especially the ones I can’t see yet know exist. The old saying was in the forefront of my mind; “Where there is smoke there is fire.” The fact of the matter was, there was smoke everywhere, and I couldn’t see, hear, or feel the fire. Yet, I knew it was there. Not being able to see the fire to actually know what it was up too, made this state of affairs even more precarious. To add to my despair, the smoke that was now seeping into the cab of Ol Thunder Rock, did not have the familiar smell of wood burning, this was different, and this being next to a dump, Lord only knew what strange and wonderful toxins I was breathing.
I got in touch with Doug on the radio; “I’m in a fine fix now…I can’t see ta go ahead…an I sure can’t back up…an the cab is fillin up with smoke…I’m gonna hit the siren…can ya tell me how close I am ta gittin clear a this mess?” “Ya well yer okay…go ahead with the siren…let’er rip.” I hit the switch and let fly with a long yelp. “D’ya hear that?” “Ya I kin hear ya…yer almost through…there ain’t nothin ta worry bout…now git yerself in here.”
The fact that Doug thought I was okay did little to reassure me that I was; and I told myself so. “Ya… sure… I’m okay…don’t worry bout me none…I’ll be jus fine…if he was in here with me, she’d be a different story.” “Ya well…I can’t see no farther than wha’d I could throw this thing… wha’d if I put’er off the road and git er swamped…in this here soup…wha’d then?” “I toll ya…yer okay don’t worry bout it…just poke er through…an be quick about it.” I kept muttering to myself as I put Ol Thunder Rock up in bulldog** and began to crawl ahead by feel.
Later, it occurred to me that Doug was, in his way, trying to help me. He knew I just couldn’t stay where I was and suffocate, or have the fire burn up to me. Doug was just trying to keep me from panicking. He was, as usual, a bit peculiar about how he achieved this. He had his ways, like everyone does. Another thing he didn’t want, I found out later, was for me to abandon Ol Thunder Rock. This may sound strange, but the thought had crossed my mind. Perhaps Doug knew me better than I thought. I knew that a vehicle was not conceivably the best place to be if the fire, God forbid, did over run me, but it sure was better than no protection at all. Knowing this gave me the sense to do away with the thought of fleeing the truck.
* Slang name for God. ** Low gear.
I still saw no sign of flame. The fire had to be getting closer. I advanced slowly, almost inch by inch. I was up on the wheel of the truck straining to see the road. In desperation to see better, I rolled down my window. A strange humid warmth engulfed me as the thick brownish smoke bulled it’s way into the cab. Quickly realizing that this was a mistake, I rolled the window back up.
Now my eyes were burning and tears began to roll down my cheeks. I remember shaking my head back in forth, rubbing my eyes on my shirt sleeve. I was also struggling to breathe. In between coughing fits, I was taking short quick breaths that seemed like bits of sandpaper roughing their way down my throat. I gripped the steering wheel with all the power I could muster. My jaws were clenched tight, I felt and heard the air I breathed as it hissed through my teeth. Don was talking on the radio, I knew it was his voice, what he was saying, or who he was saying it too, was not registering. I felt myself half slipping into a daze, as if someone had hit the slow motion button.
Suddenly the front driver’s side wheel dropped into what must have been a hole. The steering wheel spun through my grip violently to the left. I thumped both feet down hard on the break and clutch. This had jarred me back to reality. The Old Feller and his mysterious ways are a wondrous thing. I immediately jammed the gear shift into reverse. Before Ol Thunder Rock had completely stopped his forward thrust, I was rudely persuading him to go back. Fortunately, I was able to get back up out of the hole.
I sat there, my mind racing, what do I do? “Come on Lunkhead…pull yerself ta geather…it can’t be that much farther…jus take er easy an go careful and you’ll be jus fine...You’ve had yer tail in worse places than this…an ya sure can’t stay here.” As I consider it now, I am glad that I do talk to myself every so often. I guess likely its one way I keep myself from panicking. I know most folks do this quietly to themselves, but then if I was to do that, folks would think I had gone funny in the head or some such thing. Who you are is who you are, you can fine tune what you have been blessed with; smooth the edges so to speak. But try as you may, like so many folks seem so obliged to do, you will never really and truly change a persons personality. I’m not talking about changing a persons views on things; I’m talking about their inner self. Some might claim they have been successful with such an endeavor, truth be known, I figure it to be dinged for a story. If a body is born and raised mean spirited they will likely die the same. As a further case in point, take my wife for example; she is all content with herself thinking she has molded me into some kind of art form of her choosing. When in fact, I am just the same as I ever was; I simply choose to let her think that I have changed to her liking. I guess likely, at the risk of sounding like a braggart, I am a very good actor because I have her bamboozled. I do everything she wants, when she wants, and in the way she wants, why I even do her bidding most times, without giving it much thought, this keeps her happy. I even let on as though I enjoy it. Yes sir, I can truly say she hasn’t changed me one bit.
Doug came on the radio. “Smith…you okay? Give yer siren another shot.” I was now rolling very slowly ahead once again. Carefully, I held to the right as best as I could so as not to go into that hole again. I fumbled for the mic and found it. “Ya…I’m okay… a bit smoked in…but I’m okay…here goes the siren.” After a long yelp. “Good…I can hear ya…yer close ta through…keep er comin…” I sensed a change in Doug’s voice. He now seemed almost excited. This gave me a new feeling of relief. I thought, if Doug seems that happy, then surely I must be close to being free and clear…Safe!
Cautiously, I kept going ahead. Each foot seemed like a mile, even more so now that I thought I was close. Finally, there it was, ahead the smoke was clearing. The thick dense cloud that had encompassed me was giving way to a lighter bluish to white type of smoke. Now that I could see the road, I sped the truck up to break free even quicker. As I exited the smoke, in the mirror I watched it curl and swirl away from me. It put me in mind of a living being reaching out as if to try and grab something back that it had just lost.
Now free, I quickly rolled my window down as I continued to drive. The fresh cool oxygen filled air poured itself over me. This lulled me into an almost euphoric state. I blinked my eyes with joy. My lungs tingled with life, as I breathed long and as deep as I could, in between trying to cough up a lung or two. Soon, through still somewhat blurry and stinging eyes, I could see Doug with Brian standing next to him. Beside them I could see a Bristol fire department engine. There were firefighters directing water onto the fire from two lines that snaked away from this engine. As I got closer, I could see another fire truck beyond the Bristol engine. When I got nearer, I could see that there were two lines and firefighters coming from this engine which I now recognized as a Florenceville fire department truck.
Seeing these engines, learning for the first time they were there, had me drawing mixed reviews from my inner critic. On the one hand it was good to see that the fire was being knocked down and there was ample help. On the other, it would have been nice to know that they were there. I had this terrible yearning to fly off half cocked and light into Doug without first learning the facts, I thought better of this and choked back the want too. I asked myself, why hadn’t Doug told me we had this help? Why hadn’t he sent a line my way to support me and my predicament? Why had I been asked to come in the way I did if there was already that help there? Why a lot of things. I was determined to find out.
After confronting Doug I learned that he was using the firefighters as best as he could to direct the fire away from me. The not letting me know they were there was a misassumption; he thought I knew. And the thing that he revealed to me that riled me the most, he didn’t think I was in any kind of serious trouble. He thought I was making more of it than what I needed too. Knowing that he had a lot on his mind, and that anyone can make mistakes, I let go of my initial harsh assessment. It would serve no good purpose.
To be quite honest, Doug was one of my supervisors. It was in my mind that pursuing the fact that I was upset would only buy me unwanted and unneeded heart ache. Besides this, I knew deep down that Doug would never want any harm to come to me or anyone else. Maybe in his mind, it was his way of keeping calm himself, don’t admit that it is serious, and somehow by doing this, it would seem less grievous.
In retrospect, I am not free of guilt. I should have clearly told Doug the peril I was confronting. I should not have assumed that he, or anyone, would automatically know this. Grumbling the facts to myself fell on ears with no power, or sense, to change my condition.
With the help of some Bristol firefighters, two lines were laid from Ol Thunder Rock. And then, there was the high pitched whine of the pump mixed with the steady roar of the engine, it was a familiar song that Thunder Rock had sang to me many times. At the risk of sounding eccentric, in a lot of ways I think of that old truck as a true friend. If I really consider it, I guess it really isn’t all that odd, he and I have been through a lot over the years.
I watched as the firefighters wrestled with the water charged lines, and then direct the streams onto the fire. At the quarter inch tips of the inch and a half barrels nozzles, one hundred and eighty pounds of pressure was produced. Working these lines was a trying task for two people on each line, especially on the uneven footing of the wildland. If a person had the luxury of getting a chance to do it all day, which I had many times, they wouldn’t find it necessary to go into deep meditation as to whether they had completed a days work or not, least wise I never felt the need.
I now had the time to stand back and really have a good look at what was going on around me. From what I could tell, any place that the fire had escaped the confines of the dump into the forest, was now devoid of open flame. I surmised, that this was another small fire that felt the need to try on giant shoes and found that they were too large to fill. Yet, as insignificant as this fire was in size, it’s threat taught me well, a series of hard learned lessons that I have never forgotten.
Notations for consideration, and perhaps discussion with other readers:
Break this down using each leg of LACES; Lookouts, Anchor Points, Communications, Escape Routes, Safety Zones. How many legs were broken? If LACES had of been in place, could it have made a difference?
What was the fire telling me as I approached the site? Should what we are seeing, what the fire is telling us, prompt us to ask questions before wadding into a dangerous situation? In my mind, one of the most important things we can do is learn to read and accept what the fire is telling us.
Getting to, and keeping fire small is very important. Should we be accessing fire the quickest way in every circumstance?
How important is it that we say what we mean when communicating? Is it ever safe to assume others know the same facts you do?
While enroute to an incident, we form a picture in our mind of the situation we will face when we arrive on scene. It is very important to have a good operational plan started; this will form a good foundation from which to build on. Questions asked, for example, should be; what equipment and man power will we need?
What importance do you place on this? Is there anything else you would consider?
Do you think that better training could have played a role in this incident?
List all the contributing factors that you can think of which led to this smoke entrapment.
There was no after fire review for this incident, do you think that a review would have been beneficial?
Should you have to fear bringing up safety concerns to your supervisors?
As always; consider the fire weather indices, the lack there of, and the same for fire behavior. For your information, the indices were unknown and there was no consideration for potential or current fire behavior.
Was luck a factor in this situation?
Try to identify as many unsafe acts as possible. Think about what you would have done differently.
Do you think that the entrapment in the smoke was something unforeseeable, or was it predictable? Could it have been prevented?
There was never any close threat from fire, so how serious do you think this smoke entrapment really was? Could lives have been lost? If so, what lives do you think were in jeopardy?
Do you think staying in the truck was a wise thing to do? Would you have stayed with the truck, or would you have tried to walk out?
Can you think of any other perils besides the fire and the smoke?
What is the likelihood of this happening on fires in the future? I have often heard folks say, “Oh that only happens out West or in the States.” How true do you think this statement is? Can it happen here…. again?
Experience is a good teacher. It has taught me a lot. Is it always the best teacher?
Do you think if a life had been lost in this situation that it could be considered as, it goes with the territory? In other words, is death and risk of injury just part of a firefighter’s dangerous job that he or she must learn to accept?
What difference did my getting to Doug really make?
There is no way for me to know how many folks have ever been trapped by smoke. I know that it has happened to me more times than I would like. Some events were more serious than others, some longer lasting than others. John Wayne once said; “The man that fears nothing…he’s a fool.” I strongly agree with this statement. Every time that I have been cornered by smoke or fire, I am not ashamed to admit, I was afraid. On this incident I was terrified.
I have spent many long hours trying to come up with ways to open folk’s eyes to safety, with strong emphasis on keeping people safe from burns. This is very important, one burn over is one too many it should never happen. As long as I draw breath I will do what I can to prevent it.
I have further said many times that everything that walks, crawls, or flies, on a wildland fire, is out to get us. As important as it is to prevent burns, we must also realize there are many other things that possess the ability to do us in. This includes smoke, along with all of it’s hazards.
Until next time, above all else, Stay Safe! RL Tex Smith December 22, 2005
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