Fire for Hire
Mercenary fire-fighting rigs loaded up with adventurers, old GIs, and ex-cons flock to the big burns for glory and profit.
They protect the houses of the rich on behalf of big insurance companies. Sometimes, they start fires themselves.
Our chaotic, crooked approach to managing fire and timber is reflected in what happens on the ground.
The fire began in silence. On the west ridge, an expensive radiographic weather station stood guard. The fire would not get that far. Below, in the green valley bottom, heavy equipment requisitioned from logging companies cut fuel breaks. The Overhead, as firefighters call the command team, buzzed all around in side-by-sides, using radios to deploy fire engines like ours: oversized pickup trucks loaded with water tanks and tools. We sidehilled the truck, our water tank full with 400 gallons, and it lurched on its tires. Twenty men from a handcrew fanned out, watering the smoldering brush with thin, lateral hoses. Burning stumps and rootballs turned the air sour. Our other engine hand remained in the back seat, moping and nauseous, while the boss and I played dominoes on the hood. “That looks promising,” said the boss, as lightning began to thread the clouds together. That August day was nearly done; a few miles of road patrolled and the fire held back behind it, water driven and …
