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A chorus of groans fills the air.
This is gonna be fun.
As we make our way up the mountainside in the afternoon heat, I fall in behind the rest of the company. When our party reaches the halfway mark, I see a couple of the guys are starting to struggle.
Chris, our newest recruit, comes to a halt.
I leave my place at the end of the line, march up behind him, and clasp his shoulder.
“Sorry, boss. I needed a rest,” he gasps.
I hand him a water canteen. “Never stop. If you need to, slow down for a few beats. Then, step your pace back up once you catch your breath,” I instruct.
He takes the offered water, and then he inhales deeply and continues.
I raise my voice and address the entire group. “If you stop, you only make it harder on yourself. The first fifteen minutes are the hardest, and you’ve made it past that. Just keep pushing. Come on. You’re stronger than you think,” I encourage as I continue after the rest of the guys.
Twenty minutes later, we are standing at the summit of Misty Mountain, overlooking the valley.
“Take a look, men. There’s no hill higher in this valley than the one you are standing on. If you can climb this one, you can climb any of them. You just conquered your Everest in full gear, and you made good time, doing it,” I praise.
Jay pulls his hat off and swipes at his brow with the back of his glove-covered hand. “Great. Can we go have a couple of cold ones now, boss?” he asks.
“Right after you cut me a twenty-five-foot-long, four-foot-deep fire line,” I tell him.
He sighs and shrugs off the chain saw strapped to his back. “That’s going to take a while. Let’s get to work, fellas. I’m thirsty,” he calls to the others.
Everyone pulls their tools from their backpacks and begins to cut into the brush.
Each one carries either a saw, rake or shovel, and an ax.
They spread out evenly and start cutting into the tree line.
“That’s it. Make sure you clear the dirt at least four feet all the way around. You guys and these regular, old household tools are what stands between an out-of-control fire and human lives, wildlife, and the homes of every citizen on this mountain. Leave nothing. A root, a blade of grass, or a pile of dried leaves are kindling, and it’s the difference between a full stop or a fueled path for the flames to skip over your line and reach the other side,” I shout as they work quickly.
It takes them under ten minutes to cut the trench.
I walk the line to inspect it, and it’s clean. “Good job, men. That’s the kind of line I like to see. You just saved this ridge and stopped the fire from cresting and walking down the other side.”
They start applauding themselves and slapping each other on the back.
“Pack it up, and let’s head home, boys. Nick is making us his grandfather’s famous chili for dinner,” I tell them.
They begin to cheer before I add, “That is, after you guys get the engines and wagons all shined up nicely.”
They repack their gear and strap it on to make the descent back down the mountain to the utility truck. In the event that there is an actual wildfire, the trucks come to pick them up, but for training, I like to have them hike it back down. Everyone knows your muscles are more engaged during the decline.
Once we are back at the firehouse, the truck crew joins us to wash and inspect the trucks. We have two engines, one with a ladder; two wagons, which have specialized apparatuses that are used to fight brush and grass fires; a utility truck, which carries personnel to training; a tanker; and my command vehicle.
A common misconception is that firemen sit around, twiddling their thumbs and goofing off between fire calls. These men are busy from the time they start their shift until they clock out. Their jobs include keeping the firehouse clean, doing laundry, cooking for each other, washing and inspecting the trucks daily, preparing incident reports, physical training, and keeping supplies ordered and stocked in the house and on the trucks.
As a combination fire-and-rescue station, we not only respond to fire calls, but also assist in all emergency calls across the county, which includes accidents and EMS calls.
These men rarely have downtime, and when they do, they use it to sleep, study, and teach. Balsam Ridge is at the base of the Smoky Mountains, and we serve as a training house for new and future firefighters, so we always have new recruits who are waiting for a house assignment.
That’s not to say that we don’t have our fair share of fun. From practical jokes to good-natured ribbing, these guys keep each other entertained. They are as close as brothers. They have to be because when you are standing shoulder to shoulder, staring down a raging fire, you have to not only trust the man to your left and right, but you also need to have love and respect for them that runs deep. We sleep, eat, shower, and live half of our lives together. That makes us family.
It’s not a profession for the faint of heart. It requires a lot of time away from your spouses and children. It requires nerves of steel. It requires strong mental fortitude. It’s a rare breed of human who can handle the demands of being a firefighter and an even rarer breed of spouse to love a firefighter and stand by them.
