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“There are thirteen total structures in the path of the fire, and I need a tanker truck and two men at each one. I want a hose around every home. Prep and defend,” I instruct.
A team pulling two bulldozers makes it to the base camp, and I direct them to Jay and Mike’s location.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Boss, this is Chief Anderson from Knoxville Station 373,” Nick says as he leads him over to where I’m digging with my ax.
I stop and shake his hand. “Thanks for coming,” I greet.
“Absolutely. Where are we?” he asks.
“An estimated three hundred acres. We’re at ten percent containment. It’s growing so rapidly, and we can’t get in front of it to stop it or slow it down. We’ve been cutting since it started. We’re on three hours now. As the fire keeps breaking the containment line, we are pulling back and readjusting and putting in new lines. The wind is feeding it and making it extremely hard to manage. Air tankers just arrived on scene to help. They are dumping four thousand gallons on each run, then circling back to the river,” I explain.
“I have three dozen men. Just point us to where you need us,” he says.
I pull out a geographical map of Plott Mountain and circle the affected area.
“We need every man you have to go here and try to get ahead of it. I have men up there trying to hold the line but no enough. We have to stop it from cresting the top of the mountain because once it does, it will grow at lighting speed as it spreads downward.”
“You got it. I’ll send our trucks north.”
The left flank is working well together with the other units. They’re unloading their tools quickly and working in unison. It’s organized chaos.
“Watch the wind. Watch the wind. Back it up,” Anderson shouts as his men fall in beside mine.
“Corbin, we’ve lost radio contact with Jay and Mike,” Chris informs me.
“When?”
“Their last check-in was over twenty minutes ago, and I can’t get a response.”
Fuck.
“I’m heading up there,” I say as I drop the ax and make my way to my truck.
“You can’t pass on this side, boss. The fire has crossed the roads. The only way to reach them is from the other side of the ridge,” Nick tells me.
“Fuck!” I yell. “Call down and have the back side evacuated. I’m going around,” I instruct.
I take off running to my command truck, throw on the lights and siren, and make my way down the mountain.
The entire horizon is aglow as I race to Jay and Mike’s last noted location. The bulldozer crew should be with them. The last instruction I gave was for them to fire out a strip, which is essentially having them burn a line so it will cool out the fire when it runs up to it. A popular misconception is that we only use water. We actually have to use fire and water to control wildfires.
Thunder cracks, and a bolt of lightning flashes behind the peak as I start to climb Misty Mountain.
“Come on, rain. We can really use your help right about now,” I whisper.
My radio beeps, and I grab it. It’s dispatch, saying that the dozer crew sent in a distress signal and told dispatch they were deploying their emergency shelters.
Fuck.
I pound the steering wheel as I approach the northern side of the fire.
If they deployed their fire shelters, they are in serious trouble. The shelters are last-resort devices, used when firefighters are trapped on all sides by a wildfire. They can’t withstand flames for long, but they offer temporary protection in a short-lived grass fire.
I have to get to them.
I make contact with the air tanker and command them to concentrate on the north end of the fire. If they can get the water up there fast enough, the shelters can keep them safe until we can reach them.
