The
lump in my throat gets in the way of finding words to express the grief over
the deaths of 19 young wildlands firefighters.
The
younger of my two daughters began a career as a wildland firefighter. Beth left that occupation that she had come to love when she became Jonathan’s bride. They both understood that for the future they wanted dual-fire careers was not a practical fit.
Jonathan Nash,
now my precious son-in-law, continues in a long time career as a wildlands
firefighter. Thoughts of him are always in my heart when I hear he's gone on a fire. As I think of him and other wildland firefighters I came to
know, while living in Oregon and working as a journalist I recognize that they
are a brotherhood of bright, energetic, problem solving, compassionate, dedicated heroes. There are both men and women among that unique alumni.
Though strong, independent individuals, in
a way; they seem to have similar personality traits and characteristics. I’ve
thought on occasion how much young firefighters seem alike. There’s often that easy going smile and quick
wit that encases the psychological and physical ability to spring into action
at a moments notice to offer help - whether to scoop up a little kid falling from
his first bike ride or to don boots and appropriate gear to run toward
the danger of a raging wildlands fire.
While
we as non-firefighters flee the fire - the fire crews race toward the flames in
an effort to cut off the fire’s fuels. Their
goal and concern: to protect the wild landscape they love; and lives and homes that may be in the path of the fire. They respect fire as an intricate part of the environment, they also know
its dangers.
The
loss of the Granite Mountain Hot Shot Crew has brought new recognition to the
sacrifice offered by all firefighters – structural and wildlands crews. Until this event, there
had not been such a loss of these heroes since Sept. 11, 2001.
I’ve
had the honor of getting to know wildland firefighters from the standpoint of a journalist and as
a community member that included wildland firefighters. I accompanied crews on prescribed
burns while living in Oregon in the course of writing news stories about their fire
suppression efforts and practices. Losing these 19 heroes recently brought occasion
for me to, once again, hear people talk about their gratitude for the firefighters.
After
listening to many who have fled wildland fires, there is that common theme that's repeated: Recognition and gratitude that the hotshot crews and smoke jumpers and
Forest Service fire crews run "to" the fire to contain it while community people
attempt to 'escape the flames.'
In
truth, if they can help it, even the fire crews try not to go directly "into" the fire,
rather, they use a variety of tools, practices and techniques to contain the flames to protect wildlands, wildlife, human lives and property. My premise is that
if they are heading "to" the fire rather than away from it - they "are," in a
sense, going "into" the danger - INTO THE FIRE.
During this past week (June 30 – July 9, 2013) many of us have struggled to find ways to show our respect, offer condolences to the families, offer our own sacrifice and to honor those lost to the Yarnell Hill fire. An impromptu memorial quickly appeared along the fence at the home base of the Granite Mountain Hot Shots in Prescott, Az. It seemed to be the first place that people could congregate and honor those lost. A candlelight service was held at the local high school. Community meetings to address the progress of the Yarnell Fire suppression efforts also addressed the loss of the 19 firefighters. Also addressed was the fact that one of the 20 man crew had not been among those attempting to shelter in place when the fire blew back on them.
Brendan McDonough had
been assigned the duty as ‘look out’ for the crew and was in a different location. He too, remains the subject of prayers and
support, and heroic respect.
Sunday,
July 7th I had intended to watch the televised broadcast of the
Honor Guard Procession, bringing the bodies of the 19, from the coroner’s
office in Phoenix - home to Prescott where the official memorial service would
be held on Tuesday.
As I watched the broadcast of the procession
beginning in Phoenix I was suddenly compelled to actually be there and so made the 45 minute to one-hour trip
to just outside the Yavapai County Fairgrounds where the procession was headed. They would travel thru Yarnell and so there was time for me to make my way to the fairgrounds. I was early enough to find an open parking
spot just off the shoulder of the road at the intersection of highways 69 and
89A South. There were at least a thousand or more like minded people parked
along the roadway for as far as my eyes could see. That was but a small part of
the route the 19-hearse motorcade would travel from Phoenix to Prescott Valley with 'mourners' lining much of the route.
The weather-thermometer in my vehicle read 104F for the outside temperature when I arrived about noon. Throngs of people stood
along the pavement waiting for the procession of 19 hearses and accompanying entourage.
Large and small red, white and blue flags and purple streamers waved above the landscape along the
roadway of people and vehicles and motorcycles.
Each time I thought about how ‘hot’
it was standing beneath the blazing Arizona sun, on the black tarmac beside the
roadway, I immediately remembered that exactly one week before, the 19 young
men we all stood waiting for had lay huddled in the midst of the inferno’s
super heated gases in individual emergency "safety" shelters. Those shelters were no match for "those" high temperatures.
Yes, as we all
stood waiting - it was hot, but today it didn’t matter.
One
young woman stood beside me with her six and four-year-old fair haired sons.
“We
had to be here,” she told me. “No, I didn’t know them (the firefighters) but I
needed to be here.”
Plying
her sons with water and shading them with an umbrella, she explained that while
her younger son might not remember the event as he grows into his own manhood, they
would both know that this was important, and that they as a family (dad joined
them later) had attended this procession to offer their own respect for the
sacrifice of what she considered – national heroes.
After
standing on the roadway for nearly four hours, we knew the procession was
approaching as a dedicated Smokejumper DC3 aircraft, with jump-door open and classic smoke-jumper red and white
colors, began its flyover above us all.
Uncontrollable tears welled up and flowed from my eyes and a large lump developed in the midst of my throat as I saw the first of the 19 white hearses top the hill above us. Escort vehicles led the way as they turned the curve of the highway and travelled down to pass just before us. Other fire and emergency vehicles brought up the rear. The Granite Mountain Hot Shot Crew's own crew vehicles were also in the procession along with vehicles of other wildland firefighters.
As
they travelled on into the fairgrounds the red and white DC3 flew overhead
again and dropped a flurry of 19 purple streamers from the sky.
I
heard someone make a comment that summed up the day’s events for me, and I know
this to be true from my own experience with the environments that surround
wildlands firefighters. That is: while others have come to recognize the
sacrifices made by our firefighters - firefighters have been considered a
community’s true heroes long before the recent great loss, and they will
continue to be valued-so.
The sacrifice of the families and friends of these brave men can't be understated, I pray that they will all have the support and assistance they will need to get them through the pain they are enduring now and will endure for sometime, but also to appreciate that their lives, our lives are blessed to have had these heroes among us.
Hearing
of their loss on June 30th, was heart wrenching for me. My own method for working thru the emotional experience was the creation of an original song in simple tribute to the Granite Mountain Hot Shot
Crew and their brothers and sisters who run toward the flames so others may
escape the danger of fire.
It was comfort to hear that, from the time the firefighters bodies were brought down from Yarnell Hill, taken to Phoenix and returned to Prescott, througout the memorial, through funeral arrangements and burial, there was a fellow firefighter accompanying them.
Even through this deep loss there is at least one item of hope and salvation. It rests with the fact that Brendan McDonough is still with us. It was gratifying to also hear the support, respect and love given to Brendan as the only one of his 20-man hot shot crew to return from the Yarnell Hill Fire alive. A fact seen as a blessing but one that will undoubtedly bring him both blessing and sorrow throughout his lifetime.
You've caught the feelings that well up.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely written. Now for closure.
ReplyDelete