The news of the tragedy in Arizona, where 19 members of a special 'Hotshot' forest fire unit perished battling a wildfire, stirred an old memory - and a vivid experience.
In the summer of '78 (yes, it was a long time ago), I was taking the last few courses toward my degree at the University of Colorado (if you have a few hours I'll tell you the story of how I wound up out there). I had landed an internship at the Denver Post. There were two of us. I was working on the news desk, another guy was doing reporting work.
In our first week there, the editors decided to give my friend a taste of work in the field. They sent him out with a seasoned reporter to detail the work of one of the crews battling the scourge of Colorado summers - fires up in the hills.
I'll always remember a couple of things when he got back. One was the smell - it was something my mother was always chastising me about whenever me and my friends would decide to dabble in our backyard wienie roasts: "You smell like a bonfire." Except that in Colorado the pinon pine trees have a sweet smell when they burn. In the winter, when you walk outside, the air is literally sweet from all the people burning wood in their fireplaces. At least it was then.
The other thing was much more important - something I think about every time I read about a wildfire now. My friend told him the fire eaters relayed to him one of the truths about fighting fires in the mountains. You hear it before you see it. I could tell by the look in his eye he had gotten first-hand experience. Wind is the firefighter's worst enemy in these situations, spreading the fire in whatever direction it pleases.
My friend said it was true. You could hear fire spreading and then suddenly it would come over the rise in the mountains and be on top of you.
Fighting fires is serious business. Often life and death. We learned this week just how important - and dangerous - these jobs are.
I learned to respect these guys a long time ago. Add in 100-degree heat, as they 're dealing with in Arizona and much of the West, and you have the perfect hell's cauldon.
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