Memory trigger, happy Independence Day.
Jul 2, 2017 0:14:01 GMT
Ozarks Tom, paisley, and 4 more like this
Post by bretf on Jul 2, 2017 0:14:01 GMT
In my younger days when my community was still rural, I proudly joined the volunteer fire department when I was old enough. Some memories of those days were triggered in my mind when I watched this video.
Way back when, we used to meet at the fire station on July 4th, anticipating the fires that would be set off that night. It was a festive night for us, stupidly hoping for the excitement illicit fireworks would cause.
One night, (not related to July 4) a dry lightning storm rolled across the foothills, setting numerous fires as it crossed.
I responded to the first fire in our district and we worked hard to put it out. It looked like it was contained, and I was left with 4 men to mop up while the rest of the crew chased after the next fire. They’d barely got out of sight when a blast of wind spread the sparks onto the dry cheat grass, and the fire blazed anew. I hollered at my meager crew that we needed to set an anchor point, so we tromped up a hill to get ahead of the fire. I was the first one to get to the top of the hill. (I was young and in my prime. I sure wouldn’t be first now.)
The lightning storm covered a lot of ground, and didn’t bring any rain. I stood on top of that hill and looked around. The fire we were on was raging below me, on the south slope. North of me, was a line of flame from another large fire. To the east, the sky was orange from the fire the rest of our department had gone to fight. I stood on top of that hill and held my puny shove in the air and laughed at the absurdity of it all. All around me was fire, and I was standing there with a shovel to smite it. I laughed and shouted some idiocy, but I can’t remember what it was.
The rest of my crew got to the top of the hill soon after, and I was lucid again, and I directed them to what we were going to do. We all dug in, made a fire line and put that damn fire out. An hour later we were with the rest of the crew on the next fire to the east.
Another time, two of us were together when the wind blasted in on a fire that’d been calm moments before. We had a brush truck and that fire came on us in a flash. I don’t know where my partner disappeared to, but I was hoseman at the time, so I walked in circles around our truck. I couldn’t see, couldn’t’ breath, but I walked around that truck, shooting that firehouse blindly until the pump engine died from lack of oxygen. At that point, I lay down in the area I’d been spraying and planted my face in the damp dirt. A few minutes later, the fire blew across us, and I stood up, coughing and hacking. It was black all around, but for one small circle of dry yellowed grass, with our truck in the center.
And I used to think that was fun. Oh well. Happy Independence Day!
Way back when, we used to meet at the fire station on July 4th, anticipating the fires that would be set off that night. It was a festive night for us, stupidly hoping for the excitement illicit fireworks would cause.
One night, (not related to July 4) a dry lightning storm rolled across the foothills, setting numerous fires as it crossed.
I responded to the first fire in our district and we worked hard to put it out. It looked like it was contained, and I was left with 4 men to mop up while the rest of the crew chased after the next fire. They’d barely got out of sight when a blast of wind spread the sparks onto the dry cheat grass, and the fire blazed anew. I hollered at my meager crew that we needed to set an anchor point, so we tromped up a hill to get ahead of the fire. I was the first one to get to the top of the hill. (I was young and in my prime. I sure wouldn’t be first now.)
The lightning storm covered a lot of ground, and didn’t bring any rain. I stood on top of that hill and looked around. The fire we were on was raging below me, on the south slope. North of me, was a line of flame from another large fire. To the east, the sky was orange from the fire the rest of our department had gone to fight. I stood on top of that hill and held my puny shove in the air and laughed at the absurdity of it all. All around me was fire, and I was standing there with a shovel to smite it. I laughed and shouted some idiocy, but I can’t remember what it was.
The rest of my crew got to the top of the hill soon after, and I was lucid again, and I directed them to what we were going to do. We all dug in, made a fire line and put that damn fire out. An hour later we were with the rest of the crew on the next fire to the east.
Another time, two of us were together when the wind blasted in on a fire that’d been calm moments before. We had a brush truck and that fire came on us in a flash. I don’t know where my partner disappeared to, but I was hoseman at the time, so I walked in circles around our truck. I couldn’t see, couldn’t’ breath, but I walked around that truck, shooting that firehouse blindly until the pump engine died from lack of oxygen. At that point, I lay down in the area I’d been spraying and planted my face in the damp dirt. A few minutes later, the fire blew across us, and I stood up, coughing and hacking. It was black all around, but for one small circle of dry yellowed grass, with our truck in the center.
And I used to think that was fun. Oh well. Happy Independence Day!
