Mild firefighter

Every time wildfire smoke dims the summer sun and makes it harder to breathe, I think back to being surrounded by the forest fire my crew and I were fighting when I was a teenager. We were in a mountainous area of British Columbia called the Wildhorse. The event is chronicled in my soon to be published book, Born to be Mild. Here's a sample:

We lugged the 60 pound millstones we called piss cans up a steep hill to a thick grove of trees at the edge of the fire. Wading through underbrush, we chopped and dug and squirted water in the flickering fire light. Caterwauling machinery drowned out the sound of the crackling forest fire. Bulldozers knocked over burning trees and plowed dirt on embers while carving huge gouges in the hillside. Green Jeans made regular appearances to bark out instructions and point to where we were to extinguish spot fires.

“Okay, everybody. We’re losing ground. Go down this gully. There’s a ground fire to put out on the other side.”

As clouds parted, sunrise kindled confidence. Water bombers and helicopters were able to fly.

They dropped their loads on hot spots, dowsing smaller brush fires. It looked like the tide had turned. But anticipation turned to anxiety. The sound of the foreman’s two-way radio was all but drowned out by the sound of machinery. We could barely hear central dispatch speak to Green Jeans. But what we heard seemed alarming.

“Copy that. We have a blow up near the drop zone. We’re planning an escape route.”

Even in the daylight, the smoke produced an eerie grey darkness. Eventually, it was overpowering. Our hippie friend Dave began coughing, then throwing up.

“I’ll be okay. I just got asthma, that’s all.”

Dave’s episode convinced our foreman to try to get Dave out of the fire. But there was already another emergency. The conversation on the radio told us we were in the centre of it.

“Unit three? Ya, you guys are now part of the entrapment. We’re gonna bomb a route to get you out. Stand by.”

Green Jeans immediately yelled at the crew to gather round. “Can everyone hear me?”
 

He looked around to ensure all heads were nodding.

“Awright, boys, listen up! Nothing to worry about, but we’re surrounded by the fire. Bomber’s gonna drop some pink retardant and make a safe path to get us out. When that happens, follow me. We’re gonna run like hell! Understood?”