http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/ en Copyright 2007 Wed, 19 Sep 2007 07:11:38 +0000 http://www.sixapart.com/movabletype/ http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss About The Author: Stephen J. Pyne spent 15 summers on the fire crew at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.
Burning out along the head of the fire is touchy. Trees torch, and we finesse the burnout by backing the fire against strong, dry winds. Several spot fires flare up, but at last we tie our lines together. We let our backfire and the wildfire bum into each other and watch for new spots. When the two fires meet, there is a rush of wind. The Kid finds one spot, and Uncle Jimmy another. Yet we are winning. Then we hear the roar. The air tanker, a B-17-not expected for another hour: it appears that BIFC dispatchers have forgotten again that Arizona stays on mountain standard time-is sighted through the trees. We have no communications with it whatsoever. We expect that it will make a dry run, establish contact, then return for a precision drop. Instead, the slurry spills out of the fuselage, and we hit the ground. The retardant atomizes and settles over the fire in a pink fog. It knocks out our backfire. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the plane vanishes. It is too late for another drop today, and the plane heads for Cedar City.
We improve our lines, complete some burnout, and note danger spots. There are a couple of snags on the northeast comer that are too broken to fell safely. The BI arrives, and we send him to where he can watch the burning snags. Finally we break for dinner. The fire is contained. We estimate its size at sixty to seventy acres; the perimeter fire line is more than a mile long.
Most of the reserves want to return to the Area. Stay for a couple more hours, I plead, then we will release you. Reluctantly they agree. The Forest Service wants to remain as long as possible. Someone remembers the BI, and we find him asleep by the snags and send him home with the reserves. As regulars, of course, we will remain all night-some on patrol, the rest to sleep. Around midnight we release the Forest Service. For the next three days we mop up the Sublime fire. For a while we think we have discovered a way to get pumpers to the fire line, but we dent one vehicle and abandon the scheme. Instead, we lay hose up the ridge from the Sublime Road. We request reserves to assist with mop-up-so vast is the fire-and we get some. There is even a hot meal from the Lodge. Each night after the first we leave a couple of Long shots on the fire, while the rest of us return to the Area. Our exhilaration fades. We are exhausted; our equipment is a mess; the cache is almost unusable; one slip-on is dented, and the other disabled; we are down to two cases of C rations. But we need only one more day to finish the Sublime fire and wrap up the season. The fire and accident reports should keep us busy for the rest of the month.
Uncle Jimmy reminds us that' we have yet to recheck the old fires. But we are thinking about big paychecks and big replacement orders. The fire will allow us to restock the cache over the winter. It is time to think beyond this season.
MOPPING UP: OR, TELL ME AGAIN WHEN IT Is REALLY OVER
Uncle Jimmy has a fedco, and Eric a shovel. Eric digs up a chunk of duff, and Uncle Jimmy sprays it, while Eric flips the duff over, chops it into pieces, and mixes it with dirt. Then he dips up another chunk, and Uncle Jimmy sprays that. Wil has only a shovel. He pushes it into the ground with his boot-good, well-drained soil here-bends over to lift up the shovel head, turns it over, and chops with it as though he were churning butter. A small smoke spirals upward from the pile. He repeats his actions, then he digs the shovel into the ground exactly adjacent to it and begins allover again. Tim attempts, with negligible success, to do the same thing with a pulaski, using the grub end to lift and the ax and grub ends alternately to chop and stir. With shovels Duane and I scrape smoldering leaders of fire from unburned duff-in effect, installing scores of small, internal firelines within the general perimeter of the fire. The smoldering sections are piled, then spaded into holes. "Dirt," Wil yells, "is better than water." Uncle Jimmy answers back that "water is better than dirt." But Dana can stand no more of either. With a shout he masses a hundred square feet of smoking duff into a great mound and ignites the pile with a fusee. The pile refuses to flame. Instead, it billows in great puffs of acrid smoke that spread over the fire like smog. The hardest part of controlling a snag fire is finding it, but the hardest part of suppressing a fire is mopping it up. It is one thing to know how to get to a fire, and something else to know how and when to leave it. Only a small fraction of a fire bums within the flaming front; most of a forest's fuels are consumed by a disorganized medley of flaming and smoldering combustion after the front has passed. A fire is not out until the fire in the duff is out. It is not a lesson anyone wants to hear, and one only a small minority learn.
There are some places where the surface fuels are light and burnout is more or less complete; grass and brush are like this. Almost universally, however, the North Rim has a heavy mat of semidecomposed humus, fresh needles, and windfallen branches, even whole trees that can bum for days. There are places, too, where standards for mop-up are lax, where the dull, meticulous labors of mopping up acres of smokes are superseded by a loosely conducted "patrol." The South Rim favors this approach and flaunts it before North Rimmers. But the consequences of leaving unburned fuels and pockets of combustion untouched are generally unpleasant. It may mean continual observation or incessant, casual mop-up for a crew; it may mean that those who return to inspect the fire must mop up for those who first abandoned it; or it may mean that the fire flares up or even escapes. On the North Rim our standards are simple: we mop up to the last smoke, and we return twenty-four hours after the last smoke to check the bum before officially calling the fire out.
As a result, we know the duff better than any other part of the Rim forest. The humid understory of the spruce-fir forest has the worst duff. Short needles refuse to fluff into deep, porous fuelbeds so that sustained flaming combustion is replaced by a malingering, creeping process of glowing combustion. Recently cast needles are covered with a cobweb of fine branches. Underneath they do not rest upon mineral soil but intercalate with rocks and the stringy lignin residue of largely decomposed trees; organic soil replaces mineral soil. Fires tend to be large in area and low in intensity-a hundred square feet of flame and four acres of mop-up. The real fuelbed in spruce-fir is the tree canopy, and high-intensity fires are invariably crown fires. Without copious quantities of water, mop-up in spruce-fire, or in most mixed conifer, is interminable.
By contrast, ponderosa pine has deeper, more sharply defined fuelbeds of long needles that support flaming combustion. The deep duff, moreover, is layered. The boundary between duff and mineral soil is sometimes sharply drawn, but above the soil there is a shallow layer of finely ground needles, an organic powder that can, improbably, carry glowing combustion. Then come several layers of needles, progressively decomposing and compacting like the transformation of snow into firn. Near the surface, small branches interweave with the duff, and on the surface are windfall and� fresh needle cast. Each of these layers has a different fuel moisture, and each may bum out of sync with the others. The ways in which wet and dry fuels may combine to bum are endless. Only during intense droughts is the entire duff equally dry.
There are many techniques for extinguishing all smokes, but a good strategy is to begin with the large fuels and work down. Drop any burning snags and protect dead, as-yet-unburned snags by scraping a fireline around them. Break up the big burning logs into small pieces, chop out fire and embers, cool each piece with dirt or water, and toss it into a cleared zone, a boneyard. That sweeps the fire of everything but duff. Isolate the burned from the unburned duff. Then mix the burned duff with equal parts of dirt, water, and sweat. Spade it over, spray it, dump, chop, and mix; then begin again, and again. Divide the fire into sectors, and force crewmen to stay in their sector until every smoke is extinguished. For prolonged mop-up, bring in extra crewmen. Wait twenty minutes from the last smoke until you abandon the fire. 'Typically, some canteens or a fedco and a few handtools are left behind. Then return twenty-four hours later to inspect the bum, remove the remaining tools, and pull the flagging. When you return, write up the fire report: draw a map, code the fire behavior data, narrate the events. The fire is not over until its report had been filed. The pen is mightier than the pulaski. In practice, everyone has his own favorite technique. The simplest and most direct approach is usually, in the long run, the surest. But one way or another, mop-up has to be done. That may take a long time. It takes patience to outwait fire. Duff is deep and complex, like memory. You just can't abandon a fire after hot-spotting or lining it. Worst of all is to bury it. Better to let a fire flame on and watch it in casual patrol, or indifferently tinker with this smoking duff pile or that, than to bury it and leave. A fire can smolder under dirt or retardant or wet needles for days. It can smolder for years.
Dana, Eric, Duane, Tim, Wil, Uncle Jimmy, and I have been mopping up for three days now, and each day has been slower than the last. Rather than fall back on basics, we are inspired by the tedium into innovations in the theory and practice of mopup. We are becoming smoke-happy. When we close our eyes, we see tiny spirals of smoke. There are smokes everywhere; they emanate from tree trunks; they appear in our firepacks, sleeping bags, pumpers; they spiral insidiously out of every tiny mound of needles. We are haunted by infinitesimal smokes for which there is no escape and no limit.
Dana pounds his smoking mound with a shovel, and Eric joins him, while both scream incoherently. Uncle Jimmy's fedco leaks so badly his pants are soaked and become caked with ash, but when he looks down at his boots, he thinks he can see small smokes emerging from the eyelets. Wil sits down at the boneyard and stares toward the sun. If there are smokes in his sector they will catch the light and be quickly apparent. One rises fro~ the rotted log; another appears in a small hole where he had stirred dirt and duff. He sighs and drags himself to his feet. That night, as we bed down, the stars appear like white embers in a cosmic duff. Dana is sure he sees a smoke emerging from Cassiopeia. This should be our last day on the Sublime fire. Some pockets of duff remain on the far side, but with extra hose we hope to get close enough at least to fill up fedcos from the pumper without the half hour walk that has crippled us so far. Then the Park dispatcher reports that Scenic Airlines has sighted a smoke near Swamp Point. It seems impossible. Its location is uncannily close to the site of the Back fire.
Before we abandon the Sublime fire completely, we request that two reserves be sent out to watch; then we take the pumpers up the Sublzme Road to W-4 and onto the Swamp Point road; we request Forest Service assistance; we order an air tanker; and we suggest to the BI-then, as always, back in the Area-that he order a hot meal from the Lodge. When we stop, our vehicles are next to the flagging of the Back fire, and the bearing that Recon I gives us to the Swamp fire is so close to the old route that we decide to follow the flags in. The Swamp fire is, in fact, exactly adjacent to the Back fire. A reburn or an independent start-we can't say. There is too much fire on the scene to worry at present about causes. Dispatch informs us that a C-119J will arrive within thirty minutes.
With saws we clear away a swath ahead of the active north flank-a volatile medley of snags, heavy fir reproduction, thick needles, and downed logs-then wait for the tanker. I tell the pilot to split his loadfour ways, one drop to each side of the fire. Then we back well off. After each load I rush in, assess the accuracy of the drop, inform the pilot where I want the next, and retreat. Each drop is exactly on target. The fire is contained. The slurry and heavy fuels wil make for messy mop-up, but we are too fatigued-too high on adrenaline and momentum-to care much about the next day or even the coming night. It is enough that the fire is stopped. Two Forest Service engine crews arrive, and we cut line together. Before darkness deepens further,. we drop a few snags and buck up some burning logs near the lme. Tom locates some large pockets of soil along the fireline, and we excavate them for dirt and recycle them as boneyards. Several of the holes are knee-deep.
Then we retire to our packs-what passes for a fire campand to some food. There isn't much. We have a few spare cans of crackers and miscellaneous fruitcakes and nut rolls. The Forest Service crews share their rations, and we promise them a hot meal later. It has been a crazy, extraordinary bust, and we have ~one far beyond our supplies, beyond what any of us has expenenced before, beyond what any of us could have believed possible. In our exhaustion we begin to believe that we can go on-that we can extemporize-forever.
The Forest crews want to know more about the bust. Nothing so extensive has occurred in the Forest. Uncle Jimmy assumes patrol duties around the fireline. The conversation soon deteriorates into BI stories. We forget, for an instant about the smoke in our headlamps, the cold wind and our aching, lifeless legs. The Forest crews cannot get enough, and they contribute some new stories. Neither side will concede the last word, so the pace of outrageous stories accelerates. In the distance we hear the scrape of tools as Uncle Ji11JfflY methodically digs in one of the boneyards and throws dirt on a burning limb. The Forest crews want to know how Big Bob could have become an FMO, how the Park plans to build a future fire program. Fossey tells them the future can take care of itself and proceeds with another BI story. The laughter is infectious. Then we hear footsteps and see headlamps, and out of the smoke step the BI and a maintenance than with trays of hot food. Embarrassment hangs over the scene like smoke trapped under a morning inversion. "Thanks," Duane says meekly. The BI has already eaten, of course, so we suggest to him that he patrol the fireline. "Sure," he nods, his lower lip curled. "Right away. " The food slacks our hunger, but not our sense of guilt. A few minutes later, some twenty yards away, ~e see the BI's headlamp disappear, accompanied by a shout, into one of the boneyard holes in the fireline. He never returns to camp.
There is nothing left but tedious mop-up, brutalizing in its simplicity, and it is pointless to keep a full crew all night. Without water, mop-up will be difficult, and this time we will have to stay with the fire to the last smoke. Yet we also need to rework the cache and recheck the other fires. All we require tonight is for someone to stay with the Swamp fire. Uncle Jimmy reappears and promptly volunteers. He is the oldest of the Longshots and the least known beyond his life on the Rim. Wiry, indefatigable, compulsively enthusiastic, Uncle Jimmy seems to be in a state of suspended animation, growing older without aging. He is excitable and meticulous, ruthless in exercise, a good Longshot. He despises Big Bob. If he has plans for the winter, he has kept them to himself. He has told The Kid something about traveling around and maybe working part-time on the Forest and maybe learning a trade like carpentry. He once confided to Duane that he might have been better off to stay with the Army (he was a paratrooper), that his sergeant had told him he would never make it in civilian life. He was the first recruit this season, arriving in April, he will probably hang on as long as the fire account holds out this fall, and he has indicated that he can report next spring as soon as we can pay. Now he appears before us like some kind of fire gnome-haloed by a week ~ growth of beard grimy with ash and dirt, thick stringers of black hair tied with a bandanna around his forehead, bright eyes in a gaunt face. He has a sad, fanatical look. Like most of us, Uncle Jimmy does not want the bust to end. Unlike many, he cannot afford to have it end.
It is decided that the rest of us will retire to the Area, put the slip-ons and our gear in shape, and return to the Swamp fire in the morning. Even if we rise early, however, so many things need , to be reconditioned and so much time must be expended in the drive that we probably won't reappear until midmorning or later. That bothers Uncle Jimmy not in the slightest. He is poor with reports but good in the field. He obliterates a fire with meticulous attention, until nothing is left, because he knows there will always be-there have to be-more fires, another season. Besides, I remember, tomorrow is his lieu day. Overtime. The longer our delay, the larger his paycheck. When we leave we see Uncle Jimmy scrounging through the campsite, bustling like a shrew, hoarding unused ration cans. We reach the fire cache shortly before midnight. For the next two days we recheck old fires and continue to dry-mop at Swamp. The days shorten and the nights turn cold with frost. The bust is over.
there is enough daylight left to drive to Sublime and watch the sunset. "Oh, hell," says Donnie. "Let's do it. Our time." The afternoon clouds are breaking up, and a twilight wedge, still large and diffuse, begins to take shape. The wedge is more distinct in the autumn than in the summer because the air is cooler and more stable, and the refracted light is broken into strata. Our eyes rove restlessly over the panorama. Too often our view of sunsets away from the Area is compromised by our need to exploit every minute of sunlight to locate a fire or fell a snag-everything is refracted through the prism of fire. But now the fires are extinguished. Now we have the time to watch.
It is a complex and dynamic scene. The sunset is doubled: there is one to the east, with the sun, and one to the west, against it. Their effects are utterly different. One accents Canyon and light; the other, shadow and sky. The drama repeats daily, with the timeless play of dusty pale light on butte and mesa and gorge, with shadows washing through the Canyon like a tide. The rocks dull in intensity and brighten in color. The sky condenses from diffuse pastels into a brilliant wedge, compressed by an encroaching spectrum of blues-light blue at the horizon, and above that an immensely soothing royal blue, and finally a navy blue salted with early stars. Distant mountains are silhouetted in lavender, then blue. We study both views, looking equally to past and to future. It is easier, however, to look back on a season, when everything that must happen has happened, than to stare at the sunlight with only hope to shield the eyes, and increasingly we look back. The Canyon fades before a murky, indistinct grey-the first in a sequence of shadow landscapes. Shadows sweep over the Canyon in wave upon wave, each layer darker than the last, until the gorge is swallowed in blackness, and the final drama transfers to the sky. The darkness grows; the wedge shrinks. Orange fades to lemon along the sharpened horizon, and as the sun meets horizon, it flares defiantly into orange and blood red, like a muted fire, before vanishing. Yet there is more. There is not one process at work but twonot only the tidal sunset but the breakup of a storm. Light plays not just, as with the sunset, against rock sculptures-immobile, the dynamism of the scene set by the sinking, refracting lightsit plays also against the clouds. Here they tower into pinks and magentas, there they furrow into purples, blues, yellows, and greys, and everywhere virga shimmers downward like colored veils. Sunset and storm combine into a fugue of colors and shapes and motions. The storm breaks apart, the clouds shred and darken into black ink spots that interrupt and silhouette the enveloping twilight wedge before they shrivel away with the dying sun ..
It is the supreme Canyon spectacle. Neither sunset nor storm alone but their interplay makes the scene Sublime; the Grand Ensemble as Dutton called it, is put into complex motion. It could only be improved with a little smoke. It is an attribute of wood smoke that the bulk of its particulates have diameters roughly comparable with the wavelengths of white light. In daylight smoke can obscure and lessen Canyon scenery. But at sunset, when the particulates magnify and scatter the refraction of sunlight, the scene is dramatically enhanced. Smoke intensifies the color and highlights the texture of sky and earth. Add a little fire and the scene could be not merely viewed but lived.
Yet the power of the view resides equally in the viewer. The Point captures two analogous motions in the lives of its observers-one seasonal and one secular. The experience is not just of a place or a time or an event but of the whole lot in a crazy, incongruous mix. It is the North Rim and youth and fire. It IS falling trees and hot-spotting and growing up and SWFFs and walking through blue night winds and flaming trees and C rations and moonlight on Canyon clouds. It IS Saddle Mountain and Powell and The Dragon and Walhalla. It is the endlessly recycled summers and the irreversible storm of youth in dynamic counterpoint. It is fire on the Rim.
A few flakes of ink-black cloud drift by. The darkness arcs downward; stars and moon create a new sky; moonlight reverses the pattern of light and shadow. Warm winds from the Canyon mix with cool air from the Plateau. The future has become past. Suddenly we feel the cold. The Point is wholly exposed. From everywhere there is the sound of distant, rushing winds.
WALHALLA
INDIAN SUMMER ERODES INTO THE BLUSTERY EDGE OF WINTER. The sun creeps low through trees and sets hastily across towering rims. It is dry enough and windy enough for fires, but the night suppresses them with cold. The smell of snow replaces the smell of smoke. The landscape takes on a used, shabby appearance. Pines become brownish and shed large portions of needles. Spruce and fir seem endlessly dreary. Aspen alone give fire to the scene. Day by day their display of colors evolves as leaves change from a shiny to a flat green, then to a lime, then to fluorescent yellow and peach, with scattered flecks of international orange. In a deciduous forest the colors would be considered modest, and their variety slight, but here they introduce a stunning contrast. Hillsides of drab spruce become speckled with fluffy yellows and stabbing oranges, set against yellow-brown meadows and a royal blue sky. In places-the sites of old, intense fires-aspen dominate the forest, and the hillsides smolder with color. By the end of September the display is at its climax. After that, although new leaves enter the display, old ones fall away completely. By October the forest is littered with aspen leaves tumbling like gold coins before the wind. There is decay everywhere. The Rim, preparing for snow, returns to the raw appearance of spring; fallen leaves become grey and mottled like soot.
The Area, too, empties of summer life. After Labor Day visitation falls off, and by October even trailer caravans of seniors are gone. The store, the Lodge, the entrance station, the campground-all shut down. Skid Row is but half occupied. Most of the fire crew have left. Those who remain begin the workday huddled around the heater in the Fire Pit with steaming coffee cups in hand, then reverse the processes by which the fire cache was opened. Tools, batteries, and rations are stored in the root cellar; slip-on units are removed from pumpers, drained, and pickled; crewmen check out. Still, there are many odd jobs, and the days have a quiet bustle. The fires, too, are different in character-no longer wild but scheduled. Our big project is to haul firewood for the Office and select ranger fireplaces. It is too cold now for evening campfires, and we crowd around oil heaters instead; even the fires are moving indoors. The exception is prescribed bums. The fall-late September, early October-is prime season for controlled burning. But while prescribed fires give a flush of color and activity, they cannot reverse the inexorable approach of winter. Almost by definition scheduled burning occurs outside the natural fire season. It cannot be sustained indefinitely. Fire season must end. High clouds make the sky ashen grey. Mice return to the cabins. Coyotes slink around the Area at dawn and dusk. Ravens gurgle loudly in the crystalline air, and owls cry in eerie harmony with the night wind. It is early and cool when we gather at the site. A party of administrators-the Park's tribal elders-will arrive from the South Rim by helicopter later. We pace around our firelines, inspect the pumpers, and set up a small blackboard easel. Benson, the research biologist, cynically suggests that we ought to hang bunting and parade past a reviewing stand. It is his show, however; we are eager for fire of any kind, curious about how the prescribed bum will evolve and happy to participate in anything that the Park apparently values.
The plot encompasses a hectare of ponderosa forest along the Sublime Road, one of a series of bums projected under an expensive research program aimed at reintroducing fire to the North Rim. Earlier in the summer we cut fireline-SWFFs to one side, FCAs to the other in jeering rivalry. The plot sits within a small swale, and because of the open forest, you can see from one line to another. The fireline has a somewhat larger perimeter than _ the plot, and we have strengthened it by dropping a few snags and encircling a couple of others with bare soil. It is an interesting exercise. In some respects the problems of ignition and control are identical to controlling a wildfire; in important ways, however, they differ. Above all, the two fires differ in their politics. We commence firing shortly after 0800 hour!!. Benson refuses to enter into any "management decisions. " He is there only to research, he reiterates. Anything we do is equally useful to him; he is a scientist; and this is an operational matter. We ignite the whole plot more or less simultaneously. There is not much to see at first. Fusees do not put down a lot of fire. Each spot requires time to build up, and more time must pass before the whole suite of spot fires merges. After the first flush of curiosity, both firing and control crews become bored. The morning is cool, the fine fuels unrecovered from the evening rise in relative humidity. This we sense and observe, but no one has calculated the fire-danger rating for the site because Benson has chosen to ignore the national rating systems for a multiple regression formula of his own devising-referred to as a "Y value "-which he has not bothered to explain to any of us. Our job is not to understand the fire but to start it and keep it from spreading beyond our prepared firelines.
Within an hour the fire builds up and coalesces into pockets of intense burning. A few trees torch. An immense green ponderosa acquires and holds fire in its crown. It becomes necessary to start up the pumpers and hose down portions of the perimeter. The Park elders and Benson retire up the ridge and out of the smoke. The fire in the big pine will not go out, so we fell it outside the line, against its lean. The tree costs us nearly a dozen wooden wedges; the smoke is acrid and dense, and our noses run with thick black mucus. Alston points out that we will not receive a penny of hazard pay for this because, technically, the fire had been controlled from the onset. By noon the Park elders and Benson have departed. The major thermal pulse of the fire is spent. Plenty of flame and smoke persist, but not as a dynamic system. Only the fire crew remains to watch. Originally we planned to return day after day until the fire naturally extinguished itself. But when do you leave such a fire? Who decides it is "out"? What is the equivalent of mop-up? There is no one to answer such questions, and it becomes apparent that patrol will require weeks. The bum is pronounced a great success-and as a political statement it is. Not a word is ever published, yet it helps publicize a major restructuring of Park fire policy and programs. Subsequent patrol is nominal, and we spend most of our lunch periods at Point Sublime. The research program has three additional sites along the Sublime Road, each larger than Site A. The research will continue for many years.
EVALUATING THE SEASON: WHAT DONNIE DOESN'T SAY
Donnie hands over a sheath of forms and asks, "What next?" I look through the checklist. Close of business-COB-is our last official act as Park seasonals, and It IS closely monitored. Every stage is prescribed. The fiscal office double-checks that there are no outstanding charges against the terminating employee, and it is our last chance to correct errors in overtime, hazard pay, holiday pay, or annual leave. Maintenance inspects quarters. Property ensures that each article of government equipment is returned, from driver's license to compass to radIO to keys, though somehow or other a fire shirt usually seems to escape. The essence of the entire process, however, IS the evaluation of seasonal performance, which determines whether the employee will be granted preferential hiring for the next year. The review is designed to create the impression of equality. The Park evaluates the seasonal, and the seasonal is allowed comments in return. There should be no violation of due process or unjust discrimination. The reality is more complex. The Park so controls the process that the seasonal is nothing more than a migrant worker-in theory, seasonal employees are entirely dispensable and interchangeable. In reality, the Park cannot function well without experienced seasonals, so that the. seasonal needs to be allowed to retiring and the Park needs to have him or her return. At one time seasonal employment was a kind of farm system for the Park Service by which prospective applicants would be evaluated for provisional acceptance into permanent ranks. This equilibrium is upset by the simultaneous advent of federal hiring freezes, the politics of affirmative action, and the sheer numbers of the baby boom .. Returning seasonals become a burden on the Park Service.
There are too many applicants and not enough Jobs, and recidivist seasonals lessen the size of the annual pool open to new hires. The Park Service removes the initial screening process from the parks and creates a national office to review applications. It also instigates a new category on the seasonal evaluation form (10-180)- "recommended for rehire m competition which, in theory, means that the seasonal is neither preferred nor discriminated against but must take his or her chances equally with the other applicants in next year's job lottery. The Park Service also dismisses any implied claim or right inherent in a "highly recommended" evaluation. It insists that it can select from the applicant pool whomever it wants for whatever reasons. What was designed as a means to limit political patronage is thus retrofitted to support a different form of preference and the reformation in fire policy is matched by a reformation in employment policy. Once, when Captain Zero returns to the North Rim from his promoted post in the Western Regional Office, he announces baldly, grandly that the Park Service does not plan to hire any more white males as ermanents in the foreseeable future. The seasonal evaluation form becomes unbearably complex, all for the unstated purpose of encouraging fewer rehires. The uncertainties of season life are multiplied. In fact, fewer people want to return. Not only is seasonal experience less useful as an entree into a permanent career with the Park Service, but fire management m particular is a dead end. For anyone with ambitions in the Park Service, to remain a seasonal firefighter is a species of double jeopardy. The evaluation process reminds us forcefully that we live in a bureaucratic environment, not solely a natural environment; that the fiscal cycle is as powerful a determinant in fire management as the monsoon; that civil service regulations, not simply the laws of fire behavior, govern our conduct. The season begins when the Park hires and it ends when the Park terminates, and our EOD and COB dates mayor may not coincide with the dynamics of fuel and weather that shape the arrival and recession of fires. Yet the agency cannot control the fire program completely because it cannot control lightning and forests. It cannot abolish fire by fiat, and that is why we remain. We live within a crack-an incomplete weld-that joins an industrial society to a natural landscape. The two worlds, natural and bureaucratic, are at odds. Our lives as individual Longshots contradict our life as a fire crew. Even as we grow as individuals, we are put down as a crew. The evaluation process symbolizes this schizophrenia. Those who return do so for intensely personal reasons, almost in defiance of Park values, a decision that only reinforces our progressive alienation. I hand Donnie his forms and a copy of his seasonal evaluation. "Highly recommended for rehire. " "So what next?" Donnie repeats. "Get out of here," I tell him with a laugh. "Yeah," he says 'I'm packed. " That's the way to do it, I think. Just leave. Once there is no longer any connection to the fire crew, get out. Stay on the job as late as possible, then leave the day you COB. As you drive out, wave at the cache; honk at the pumper crew filling up the slip-on at the hydrant; shout at the sawyers bucking firewood for the Office. Next year there will be more fires. I don't ask Donnie if he plans to return. That is his decision. He has no desire to join the Park Service, so he won't be compromised by returning as a Longshot. By the same token, there is no reason to stay in fire when that is not his career. He is an odd case. Adaptable, well liked, a natural athlete, he has learned the job as quickly as any rookie ever has. He was apparently recruited by the Park Service under a minority hiring program in the mistaken belief that, as the starting shortstop on the Howard University baseball team, he was black. If he plans to return, Donnie will mail in an application form over the winter. He will not jeopardize his rating now by saying one way or the other, or if he says anything, he will say he is probably returning. If he does not, he knows that we will mail to him the nameplate that now hangs over his firepack. There is no way to get a pumper safely to Site B without some major felling, so we pack in fedcos instead. In contrast with Site A, Site B is on a ridgetop, even more open and arid. Benson has upgraded his operation to include an Army-surplus communications module, which resembles a heavy-duty camper, in which he can keep his computer and radios. Within it he can calculate his Y value and monitor the bum. The module is parked at a pullout on the Sublime Road. Now that the day for ignition has arrived, he retires to his trailer, and we await his forecasts. The Y value for the Site A bum was calculated at 6-7. We do not want a fire any hotter than that. Weather forecasts call for a warn, dry day. Benson figures the current Y value at 4. 55 and predicts it will reach 8-9 by midafternoon. Does he wish us to proceed with the bum? "That," he snaps back on the radio, weary with endless reiterations, "is your decision, not mine. " One bum is as good as another to him. It is all science. The decision to light up and bum is ours. We look at one another. The only reason we are here-the only justification for hauling our asses up this ridge during the summer to cut line-is to serve the research program. None of the permanent rangers, none of the Park elders, not even McLaren, will commit to a decision. They all look to me, a seasonal foreman, and I look to the crew. Benson returns on the Park radio. "Expected Values will probably exceed nine, " he says. There is a touch of anxiety in his voice. I compare that figure with the values at Site A; they don't register. Whatever the fuel moisture at the module, the duff here is still fresh with moisture from a recent storm. McLaren picks up a handful of needles and squeezes some water out of them. "Hell, let's bum, " I say with a shrug. "It is your decision, " says Benson. If the fire is lost, he means, it will be our responsibility.
Ignition is a disaster. With considerable labor we succeed in torching a few mounds of the fluffier needles. We send back to the pumpers for another case of fusees and a flamethrower. Whatever the fusees touch they char. When they are removed, the flame expires. Tom and The Kid begin piling up loose branches into small slash piles. Dave and Ralph rake up mounds of needles with McLeods. The heat from the flamethrower drives everyone away, but after the residual mix is burned, the fire dies out. The Kid removes the lid from the flamethrower and pours the mix onto some stacked piles, then ignites them. The fire hesitates and holds. Benson calls on the radio. His tone is urgent, wolfish. "Predicted Y values will exceed the prescription, " he warns. "Does that mean we shouldn't bum?" I ask. "That is your decision, " he insists.
The Fiasco fire. Now that we have begun we must continue: we can't mop up the small patches of fire that exist without destroying the plots. We take a coffee break, then an early lunch. We send a vehicle back for twenty gallons of torch mix. By early afternoon enough drying has occurred to sustain some continuous flame across the upper crust of needles, and by the end of the day most of the plot has been subjected to a degree of surface charring. The Park elders have long since departed. Benson shows up at the scene before lunch, muttering under his breath that we are trying to sabotage his research and vowing that it won't work, that his way is the future. There is no reason to leave anyone at the site that evening. At our morning briefing in the Fire Pit we discuss the bum. Benson's trailer is the object of derision. Tom picks up an empty wastebasket and speaks into it with great, hollowing tones. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!" There is nothing left but to patrol and hope the fire burns out soon. Duane, anxious to finish a long novel, volunteers. Each day, however, is warmer and drier than the one previous; the fire smolders, then, after a couple of days, shows intermittent flame. On the fourth day there is an urgent message from Duane and Wil as they make their first, morning tour of the fireline: the Site B bum has escaped Its perimeter and supports nearly half an acre of wildfire. Response is instantaneous. We corral the fire, lay in some hoses for mop-up, and track down the source of the breakout to a creeping duff fire that entered the catface of a green ponderosa near the fireline, burned in the cavity until there was not enough heartwood left to support the tree, then flared over the trunk after it tumbled across the fireline. We have a lot to learn about prescribed burning.
FIRES OF SPRING
Dave flails at the outbuilding of the old camp with a sledge. Joe and I gather loose boards and pile them nearby. It would probably be easiest to attach chains to what is left of the main structure and pull the walls down with the pumpers or winch, as we did with the Sheep Shed, but there are so many nails around the site that we hesitate to drive very far off the road. If, however we dismantle the main buildings with sledges and crowbars as we are doing with the outbuilding, the project will take weeks. I elect to crush the major structures by felling nearby trees on them. The falls will smash the walls and floor, and needles and branches will add kindling. Besides, Joe reasons, the trees have grown up since the structure was abandoned and crown scorch would probably kill anything nearby when we light the pyre. We pause before the largest structure, an elevated floor with broken walls. It is hard to believe that this site once supported a CCC camp, more than a hundred men strong. Now the old camp has been declared a pollutant in the wilderness, and we have been ordered to destroy it as part of a general housecleaning of the backcountry. In the fall, after a snow, the piles will be torched. The presence of the CCC is manifest everywhere. There were two full companies on the North Rim each summer; during the winter one company relocated to Phantom Ranch, and the other to the South Rim. CCC enrollees built the camp at the Shinumo Gate to support their fence project, and they probably constructed (or improved) Tipover Spring as a water source. There was another major camp below Neal Spring. There they dammed water into a small pond, ran a pipe from the reservoir to a large wooden tank down the valley, and laid out a full camp in the meadow. Fire road E-3 traveled to the site. A third camp-the main one-was in the Area. There the CCC constructed nearly every Park Service building; even Mission 66 failed to rework the Area, and more contemporary Park construction has tended to retrofit CCC buildings or introduce trailers to supplement the CCC legacy. The enrollees themselves lived in a tent camp by the heliport. Officers lived in the small wood frame houses along Skid Row. The structural fire cache and ambulance now occupy the old CCC fire cache; the Fire Pit thrives in a niche of a CCC warehouse; the fire cache claims an old CCC road storage shed; the ranger station is a refurbished CCC mess hall; the concessionaire's mule barns and the Park's long-term storage sheds are housed within former CCC structures located on what has become known as CCC Hill. They restructured the backcountry, too. Many springs were outfitted with pipes and troughs made from hollowed logs Fuller Canyon Spring, Robber's Roost, Basin, Kanabownits, Bright Angel, Tipover, and Harvey. You have to know they are there in order to find them; you can see the present entrance road and fireroads from the springs, but not the springs from the roads. The CCC also made, or improved, small impoundments at Greenland Lake and Basin Spring. It protected with aspen fences the Rim's natural ponds-those flooded sinkholes like Swamp Lake-and it erected aspen corrals at nearly all surface water holes. Although part of the justification for creating tanks was wildlife enhancement, the greater reason was fire protection.
Almost single-handedly the CCC created a physical plant for fire control on the North Rim. Enrollees moved one metal lookout tower-North Rim tower.-to its present location and constructed a second metal tower at Kanabownits, erected cabins for both, and joined them with telephone wires. They established the tree tower network; they laid out the fireroad system; they put in a communications system, a ground return telephone net; they placed metal sheds with handtools at key locations in the woods; they laid out surface trails, some of which we uncover during the construction of the Bawgd Pass trail; they obsessively swept roadsides clean of dead and downed wood, partly for esthetics and partly as a fire prevention measure. The CCC built the first-the enduring-boundary fence. It built the original fire cache. And it fought fire. It is impossible for us to see the CCC boys as anything but the original Longshots-an enormous crew of immense comradely, with a ceaseless parade of big projects and big fires. The era is imagined as a golden age, and every relic is treasured. Marooned for a day on the South Rim, Wil and I pawed through the Park archives for photos of the old camps. Our favorite is a picture of the original fire cache, circa 1936. Three enrollees stand admiringly beside a forest fire pumper and a structural fire truck, while a park ranger, overweight, stares vacantly upward. When we return we duplicate the scene with our modem vehicles. The two photos, side by side, go into the FCA Musuem. It is a quixotic gesture, however. What the CCC built up, we are ordered to tear down. The revision in Park Service policy that established the foundations for a new fire program also decreed that all traces of human presence in the backcountry must be eradicated. We cease to man either North Rim or Kanabownits tower; the tree towers are condemned; the old fire cache is transferred to the rangers; the metal toolsheds are forgotten; CCC Hill subsides into a state of dilapidation; the aspen corrals are razed; the fireroads are abandoned, one after another. Mobile trailer homes overtake CCC cabins as preferred quarters. The ranger station is refurbished into an office, shedding almost all allusions to its origins; then one winter it is gutted by fire and replaced by trailer modules. We even pull up and pack out some nine miles of old telephone wire that once connected Kanabownits to North Rim tower. What is not ripped up or burned is simply abandoned or retrofitted to new purposes, and we quit informing the Park where corrals and spring troughs can be found and note with perverse pleasure the endurance of the western CCC-built boundary fence. We marvel, too, that the Park will make heroic- efforts to preserve at Greenland Lake a "salt cabin" putatively erected by sheep and cattle herders in prepark days yet destroy with fanatical obsession every vestige of CCC edifices outside the Area. The salt cabin, however, stands next to a pullout on the scenic drive and provides an "interpretive opportunity, " a visitor connection, which the CCC structures, remote in the woods, do not. Lunch is over, and Joe and Dave toss some miscellaneous boards onto the pyre, while I wander along the faint trace of W-4C as it approaches the Fence. Just across the boundary the Forest Service has been logging heavily, and slash piles sprout like mushrooms; they will be fired in the autumn along with the other prescribed bums. When the old camp is torched, no one will notice another smoke among the general pall. Site C has a little of everything. Of special interest are a north-facing ravine, a ridge, and some thickets of white fir-precisely the target for a prescribed fire program aimed at restoring the natural ponderosa regime. The perimeter of the site nearly abuts the Sublime Road, and we set up a camp across from it. Alarmed that tourists might happen upon the scene, the BI has us rout out a sign that reads: ENVIRONMENTAL BURN. IN PROGRESS. He continues-as he has for several years-to refer to the fire as a ''proscribed bum. " "Maybe he knows something we don't, " Wil reminds us. As Duane plants the sign along the Sublime Road, a tourist in a pickup slows down, studies the sign, and asks quizzically what fire is not an "environmental bum"? Duane has no answer. There are no dignitaries this time, only fire and research personnel and the new North Rim manager, Gonzo Gilliam. The ritual begins with the usual mating dance about who will be responsible for the decision to ignite. Benson calculates his Y value and makes his predictions, for which he is well paid and which we ignore in favor of the National Fire-Danger Rating System nomographs. But this time our question to him concerns ignition strategies. And again, we are informed, research is indifferent; one ignition pattern is as good as another; the decision to bum, and the choice of technique, are ours and ours alone. Patiently Gonzo, who has some legitimate fire experience and has shrewdly parlayed it into project fire positions, tries to explain to Benson that the procedures we adopt will dramatically affect the outcome. Benson reiterates, as to a child, that there is only fire, that all fires are equally usable to him. While these queries rage, the Longshots stand in the ravine with the Park fire officer. McLaren, so far quiet, picks up some needles. More and more often he has been on the losing side of Park politics; a man of immense practical experience and unflappable in the face of emergencies, he discovers that his career, once moving briskly upward, has halted and he is condemned, perhaps forever, to be the assistant chief ranger at Grand Canyon. To the Park Service-to the new era of professional managers and information specialists-he is a relic who treats a helicopter as if it were a horse, who believes that all problems, even intensely technical ones, are really by and about people. Increasingly, he simply withdraws from political fights, from public appearances with Benson, Gonzo, and the others of the new regime, and leaves the fire crew to itself. We hear from him only during fires, and then we are reminded how much real fire experience he has. Usually bareheaded, he appears strange to us now in a hard .hat. In a low voice to the crew he announces that the duff won't burn. Gonzo and Benson are now eye to eye over the issue of who should control the fire, or rather who should have the privilege of not directing the fire, and Gonzo is not only exasperated but excited. "OK, we burn from the bottom up!" he bellows. For the next two hours we weave a tapestry of charred lines and rings across the slope. Nothing will hold a flame. By late morning we have reached the ridgetop. We bring outfusees, drip torches, and a flamethrower. Under Gonzo ~ roars and Benson's indifferent stare, we lay down strips offire, each of which bums into the other while the first strips are still flaming; unobtrusively McLaren dampens some of the excess fire-starting, but there is plenty, and the effect is awesome. Within half an hour the ridgetop is a maelstrom of fire. A smoke column chums upward. In flashes we sight a large firewhirl embedded within the densest smoke. Tree after tree-mature ponderosa all, some over four feet in diameter-swell into flaming torches. When .the great outburst subsides, it is discovered that the slope, heavily loaded with fuel and thick with fir reproduction, is practically unscarred, while the open, mature ponderosa forest has been gutted. Great trees now bear deep catfaces; they will topple over the road within a few days. Other trees suffer colossal crown scorch and will not survive the winter. "I thought, " says Wil out loud, "that the purpose of this bum was to make the slope look like the ridgetop. " McLaren's lips are pursed, and he looks unnaturally old in his orange hard hat. "Hey," says Eric, "any-body got a buck I can pass? " . Wit drives Benson, Gonzo, and McLaren to a helispot along the Sublime Road, and they depart in midaftemoon. McLaren refuses to be drawn into a discussion about the fire, which the daily report proclaims another success of the presented bum program. The rest of us remain at camp and prepare dinner, a medley of barbecued entrees-every man his own chef. From rations come the desserts, crackers, fruit. Duane, however, refuses to eat his hamburger after it is caught in a grease flare-up and chars deeply. "It�s carcinogenic, " he insists.
EVALUATING SEASONALS: LIFE AFTER THE 10-180.
With seasonal evaluations approaching, I arrange to meet with everyone for a brief conference so that the final day will hold. no surprises. I suggest to Priest that! he seems to be half-stepping his way through the end of the season and ask if he wants to return. "Yes, there is a problem," he admits; then he seizes high ground and announces that he cannot in good conscience extinguish any more fires on the North Rim. As an educated biologist he understands the ecology of the forest. "This is a dying forest," he declares. "It needs fire." "We all need fire," I reply. "Do you wish to resign?" "Oh, no," he says, shaking his head. He has discussed this with the BI. He wants to stay on; he has to stay on. He will reform the system from within. We have different reasons for joining the Longshots, and we have different reasons for leaving. For some of us summer means adventure, a paying job, a chance to grow up in special circumstances. Others see the fire crew as an opportunity for career advancement. You can't remain in the first group unless you like fire. But if you want to make real money, you transfer to maintenance or to a construction contractor as E.B. and Randy do; if you want to get into the Park Service permanently, you become a ranger or a fern feeler or even a fee collector as Tom and Pferd and Bryan and Dave do; and if you want to work in the woods, you sign on with the Forest Service as Tim does. If you want to be a white-collar professional, you return to school and accept the mores of dentists and lawyers as do Duane, Ralph, and Wil. Even if you continue to remain a de facto migrant worker, you will eventually become bored with the Rim or disgusted with the bureaucracy and go elsewhere.
The issue is not whether you leave: you have to leave since your appointment is limited to a maximum of one hundred eighty days. Ours is a seasonal existence, circumscribed not only by the cycle of fires at the North Rim but by the seasons of our own lives. You can't be younger than eighteen, and you can't be too old-not only because the job will break you down physically but because you will have other obligations and will have been inducted into other institutions like families and careers. Even a true, aging migrant will think twice about seasonal work in fire because other jobs pay better and the special esprit of a fire crew will be lost on him. You have to be young for the magic to work. You have to believe that the North Rim is the greatest of places and the fire crew the most wonderful of groups. You have to live in that violent geography-that peculiar season-between adolescence and adulthood. It can last only so long.
But as a North Rim Longshot you are caught in another transition-suspended between two eras of philosophy about fire management. Firefighting becomes profoundly ambivalent, compromised. The Park loses interest, and reflects this indifference by an absence of leadership; fire management seems to belong somewhere west of safety management in the geography of its priorities. Only the persistence of fires ensures our continued existence. The strategy behind the new era of fire management is that prescribed fire will ultimately supersede wildfire, and prescribed burning, firefighting. It intends to reorient fire programs from simple protection into the advancement of biocentric objectives, into support for wilderness values. To reduce the damage of suppression, prescribed fire programs will substitute information for prime movers, and research, for field operations. And it is a great era nationally for fire research. From our standpoint, the critical facts are two: fire remains on the Rim and the Park will support a prescribed fire program. Unfortunately information does not equal knowledge, and it can't substitute for decisions and commitment. The exchange of controlled fire for wildfire, if it ever comes, will not occur at Grand Canyon within our seasonal lifetimes. Instead, we stand on the brink of two eras, each in disarray and both incommensurable. Rich is nonplussed. "Look," he says, holding up a cardboard trap. "It gets us out of the Area and the Bl likes it. He's a sort of entomologist, you know." "Yeah," says Randy, "but gypsy moths? Does anyone here even know what a gypsy moth looks like?" "Of course not," says Rich patiently. "That's why we have to trap the buggers. We have traps installed at all the overlooks and parking lots. It's part of our new resource management mission. The Department of Agriculture guy even gave BI these cloth patches. Look, 'Gypsy Moths.' Cute, huh? We can put them on our hats." "Yeah, you bet," says Randy. They stop at Point Imperial. The trap has a spider, a mite, some pine needles and bark, a dozen mosquitoes, and a wad of pink chewing gum. "Nice," says Randy. "I hope you brought a lunch," says Rich. "We'll be doing this all day." The control lines for Site D have been laid out several years in advance, and this time Gonzo will direct the operations from the start. A mature ponderosa forest is thoroughly invaded by white fir, and fuel loads in all categories are heavy. On one side the site is bordered by the Sublime Road. We place our camp on the opposite side of the road along a ridge. Again there is a debate among ourselves concerning how we ought to light up. Uncle Jimmy suggests that we torch off a snag and let the fire spread from there. "It's more natural." Dana suggests that we offer a sacrificial victim, and Eric volunteers Dana, who allows himself to be strapped to a snag while others rake up branches and needles around the base. Gonzo orders the firing to begin-loudly, authoritatively, over the Park radio-but never decides how ignition should be conducted.
Since it is our choice by default, we elect to begin firing at the top of the ridge and bum down into draws on the north and south flanks. Benson arrives late and refuses to be involved in any decisions. We torch off a snag, then ignite concentric circles around it. Flame builds up slowly but steadily o. only when the fire enters thickets of fir reproduction is there flaring, and then there is a rush to the scene with cameras and notebooks. Most of the fire is quiet, almost retarded. Dan worries, however, about the patches of young conifer. "I don't like all this fir repercussion, " he says. "Yeah," Rich agrees. "It's pretty serious. " Perhaps ~ third of the seventy-acre site is burned the first day. The following two days, while the remainder is fired, we are pretty much on our own. We lay down parallel strip fires around the perimeter, back the fire down the south slope with contoured strips, and on the north slope bum a chevron pattern, a straight line from top to bottom that fans out as it progresses downhill, until it is apparent that there is too much fire, that another two days of drying and a heavy concentration of drip torches are too intense. There is one spot fire, possibly from radiant heat, that appears in a punky log located embarrassingly close to our camp. Otherwise for the next three days we patrol. No one else from the Park shows up. As the fire ends, however, interest rekindles. Before Gonzo will allow us to depart, he insists that we fly the fire perimeter with him in a helicopter. The pilot, Joe Ugly, cruises the bum in fast, tight circles, better suited to a stock car race than a fire recon. Wisps of smoke rise everywhere in the bum, but there are no flames. The next day the BI, who at the time of ignition had conveniently retired to his house on the South Rim, tramps around portions if the fireline and denounces the entire operation as unprofessional and unnecessary. Benson informs the superintendent that the Sublime burns are complete and that the North Rim is ready to go operational with a full-scale prescribed fire program aimed at massive reconversion of fir understories to open ponderosa. The early-morning smoke report a day later thus comes as a surprise. There have been rw storms, and it is too long since the last round of lightning for it to be a sleeper. Recon I pinpoints the fire at Site D. Afire has indeed escaped-half a dozen logs, many aspen, lying in a meadow across the Sublime Road from the bum. The fire bums from log to interlocking log, the interstitial grass too green and wet to carry any combustion. The cause of the fire is a mystery, for there is rw obvious connection to the Site D bum-no toppled trees across the road, no reservoir of punky wood that would be receptive to a firebrand, rw source of radiant heat. There is only the fire, which we extinguish in a few minutes with pumpers. Back in the Area the BI gloats and struts. And back in the cache we admit that we don't understand prescribed burning. Wit suggests that maybe the BI has been right all along. "It looks like a proscribed fire to me," he says.
FIRES OF AUTUMN
The heat drives us back. Dean from Mars is flabbergasted-both alarmed and thrilled-by the amount of heat the flamethrower has generated, but quickly fires off another burst against the boulders, and another. The air has a sickly smell of diesel and soot. The limestone appears to bum as the residual fuels coat it and flame. "OK, OK," says Pferd. "Enough. Let someone else have a turn." Dean says he wishes all our training courses were this much fun .� , Just mix diesel and gasoline, pump, and shoot," he marvels. "No," says Pferd, ever cautious. "Fire doesn't work that way. It's not the mix of gas and diesel in the torch that matters; it's the mix of fire and fuel in the woods." "Yeah," Dan agrees. "There's no fuel like an old fool. " Enthusiasm for prescribed fire is everywhere, and it is almost everywhere justified. The fire crew needs a prescribed fire program, and we know it. It is clear that the Park Service will withdraw from classic fire suppression; our only salvation is another fire program to which it will commit. Prescribed fire is clearly the informing genius of the new era, and there are many selfish reasons for us to welcome it. It could extend our duty season into the fall, stabilize summer project work, and improve fire skills. It could allow us to jump on a Park Service bandwagon and recover some status within the agency. Any kind of fire is better than no fire; any project work, even line construction, is better than none at all; and to conduct prescribed bums, we have to learn about a lot of tools and techniques-such as firing out-that we would otherwise not know. The problem is that Grand Canyon's superintendent has determined that no program will go operational until Benson completes his research. That will take years. Research is not being asked to supply vital information but to stall. Simultaneously, fire expertise within the Park Service is being supplanted. Whatever the outcome of Benson's research, the smart money says that there will not be a program because there will be no one knowledgeable enough about fire to translate a philosophy of prescribed burning into field operations. By the time the research is completed, evaluated, and translated into projects, no one presently in the Park will be around to assume responsibility for it. As a result, Grand Canyon can muster no more than the parody of a prescribed fire program. There is little understanding of fire, marginal enthusiasm for a full-scale fire suppression program, and no mechanism for a genuine reconstruction based on prescribed fire. Instead, prescribed burning-especially the prospect for � 'prescribed natural fire"- becomes a convenient rationale for the Park to disinvest from fire management altogether. The Park wants a minimal organization, just enough to keep fire from becoming a public embarrassment, and it appeals to the convincing philosophy of prescribed fire to reduce its overall fire management obligations. It does not replace a program of fire suppression with a program of fire management; it simply guts the suppression component. A bona fide fire management program centered on the concept of prescribed fire demands a heavy investment of agency time, resources, and personnel. It originates out of the belief that the positive reintroduction of fire into natural systems is essential for wilderness management. It requires a sustained commitment, a political will. No administrator at Grand Canyon wants any of this. On the contrary, the Park would be delighted if fire would simply vanish and leave the Canyon to people. That way rangers alone could run the Park, and the Park Service could keep a direct liaison with its constituencies. The reality is that resource management follows tourism, and the visitor is on the River. The Park's real research thrust is on the River with him.
The Park Service takes pleasure in declaring that its management philosophy for natural areas-announced by the Leopold Report in 1963 and encoded into administrative handbooks in 1968-pioneered the practice of wilderness fire management. There is some truth in that claim, but it is limited to particular individuals and particular parks. Nationally the Park Service simply lacked the system-wide technical expertise to manage fire. Only after its inexperience became a source of public notoriety, especially after a natural fire escaped and threatened a community outside Rocky Mountain National Park m 1978, did the Park Service establish a Branch of Fire Management and begin promulgating more methodical guidelines and standards for training. With few exceptions, the Service did not see prescribed fire as an opportunity to change its management philosophy or its mission; it did not see the concept as a means by which to promote positive programs of wilderness management. Its values lay elsewhere. That some parks do succeed in establishing prescribed fire is a testimony to local genius. There IS none at Grand Canyon. Yet, in the end, what did it really matter to the average Longshot? Almost none of us stay for enough seasons to feel ~e decline. We have no personal memory of the past. Meanwhile, preparing firelines, setting up camps, firing off blocks-all are good jobs, certainly preferable to the Fence. !he status of fire management in the Park becomes unbearable if and when there are not enough fires. Only when fires fail must we rely on the agency for sustenance, and only then does the inequality in our relationship-that the Park matters more to us than we do to the Park-become demoralizing. Whatever its wishes, however, the Park cannot ban fire from the Rim. And fire is our one indispensable requirement-snag fires by the score, prescribed fires wise and foolish, and big fires, the kind that start and end worlds. Pferd explains that he prefers the fusee because It puts ~e least fire down with the greatest Control. He remembers his hotshot days when he watched burning crews plaster hillsides with fire the backfires worse than the originating one. But most of us like the drip torch, and Dean studies the flamethrower longingly. "It's not the tool," Pferd continues pedantically. "It's how you use it. You have to understand fire behavior. You have to pattern your ignition. You have to get your timing right. You hearing this, Dean?" "Sure, sure," says Dean from Mars, lost in unfamiliar abstractions.
"You know," he says slowly, "I think we can forget about Mr. Benson's Y value. With enough of these things we could bum down the fucking country. " The site is fine; the timing is dismal. Spring burns are the treatment of choice where the primary fuel is grass. The Walhalla site, however, is veneered with needles, and under the fresh needle cast are layers of wet duff and mulch-disastrous for a fire aimed at reducing fuels. No matter that we can ignite only the upper epidermis of needles. What matters is that the Park does not want to bum when everyone else in the Southwest burns-in the late fall-because that would mean extending the seasonal employment pattern. That would mean more money and a longer-lasting, if not larger, fire crew. If there is going to be a prescribed fire program, the Park decides it must occur during the regular fire season. That is the prescription that counts. Early in the morning the fire will barely sustain a flame. We force ignition; we broadcast fire with drip torches as though we were spraying to control some malevolent insect. Meanwhile, the environmental conditions change. The air desiccates the forest floor, and southwest winds rush by straight out of the Sonora Desert, strengthened by Canyon updrafts. By late morning the fuelbed crust flashes into flame. Fire spreads quickly, more like a gas fire than a solid fire. Soon firewhirls form behind trees, flames rush up the bark of huge ponderosa, islands of pine reproduction blast into flame; crown scorch is devastating. By lunch we refuse to light any more, and by evening the fire is virtually out. Only the top quarter inch, or in places the upper half inch, of duff has been consumed. Virtually no large logs have burned. Reproduction has been torched into naked stems, and the crowns of mature pine wilt into yellowed palsy. A few pockets of duff continue to smolder; left alone, without precipitation from storms, they might succeed in creeping across much of the site. But they will not be left-cannot be. They will have to be mopped up. In time the tree kills will cause the total fuel load of the site to increase dramatically.
ON THE FIELDS OF WALHALLA
There are many signs that announce the entry to Walhalla, but the one that matters to us is the extraordinary ponderosa that declares the hidden entrance to E-4, the first of the Walhalla fireroads. Lightning has split the tree in half longitudinally, and nothing is left but the enormous bole, its exposed heartwood glistening in the sun like burnished steel, rising swordlike out of the ground. A hundred feet beyond, overgrown with fir, is E-4. Jonathan steers the engine down the road, and a second pumper, driven by Leo, follows. Once you reach E-4, the dominant character of Walhalla is quickly established. Walhalla Plateau is a gigantic mesa, almost completely isolated from the rest of the Rim by the transcanyon Bright Angel fault. In geologic times to come, Walhalla will be in fact segregated from the rest of the Kaibab, but for the present it is grafted by a narrow isthmus through which the scenic drive corkscrews up and around. Most of the North Rim resembles a hand that reaches down, its peninsulas-such as Sublime and Tiyo and The Dragon-like fingers that are slightly curled and separated. But Walhalla is divorced from the overall curvature of the Kaibab, a nearly level mesa, with fingered peninsulas of its own. It tilts slightly from north to south and from east to west. Its interior resembles a gently rolling plain, a great forested field unlike the rest of the Rim. Ponderosa pine dominates the biota, though it grades into dense mixed conifer to the north and into open grassy glades to the south. It is a good place for fire. The western flank of Walhalla is one of the hottest sites for lightning fires on the Rim. As we drive down the road, the memory of old fires flashes past: the Knoll fire, nearly lost along the Rim; the Reunion fire, where Dave returned from the South Rim to assist his old crewmates with an unheard-of initial attack by pumper; the Hippolyta fire, nearly escaping control when it surged into fir reproduction until slurry drops cooled the fire down and Forest Service engines arrived; the Mariah, the Rookie, the Star fires; innumerable snag fires along the points Matthes, Ariel, Obi, Komo. We hold the last day of fire school on Walhalla; here we induct recruits into the reality of field operations and the etiquette of firecamps. And now there are prescribed bums. Walhalla is attractive as a natural fire province. Within its boundaries lightning fires could be left to behave in their natural state, subject only to surveillance. But the plateau is not truly isolated, and it must be sealed off or be made capable of sealing off a fire should one move into the isthmus. That calls for some fuel modifications. More compelling for management, however, is the argument that fifty years of fire suppression have so distorted the fuel complex that some prescribed burning is essential to reestablish a suitable base level. In particular, the white fir beneath the mature pine must be removed.

Copyright 1989 by Stephen J. Pyne. ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/09/fire_on_the_rim.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/09/fire_on_the_rim.html Wed, 19 Sep 2007 07:11:38 +0000 Almost every type of law enforcement and fire fighter organization has a national government or regulatory agency. However, this is not the case for Emergency Medical Services, also known as EMS. The term EMS covers paramedics, emergency medical technicians and first responders.
Most states have agencies that oversee their EMS services. These agencies are responsible for regulating several areas of EMS services including public and private ambulance services.
State agencies also certify emergency personnel. The requirements for certification vary from state to state. State agencies will also provide ongoing education for EMS workers.
The National Association of State EMS Officials brings these agencies together twice a year to share ideas about technologies in the field. The agency maintains a website (www.nasemsd.org) that discusses issues related to EMS and services. The organization also oversees several studies, including ones on air ambulance services and technology. The agency does not have any authority to make laws but lobbies state and national lawmakers on issues relating to EMS. The organization has four councils: Data Managers, Medical Directors, Training Coordinators, and Trauma Managers.
Despite a well-structured state system, many critics believe EMS needs regulation by a national agency. In response to this criticism, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) announced plans to form the National EMS Advisory Council in late 2006. The council will give advice and make recommendations but will not have any authority. According to the NHTSA, the agency’s tasks include:
- National EMS needs assessment and strategic planning;
- EMS standards, guidelines, benchmarks, and data collection development;
- Methods for improving community-based EMS;
- Strategies for strengthening EMS systems through enhanced workforce development, education, training, exercises, equipment, and medical oversight;
- Improved coordination and support of EMS activities among Federal programs
- Other issues or topics as determined by NHTSA and NEMSA.
The fact that no national agency regulates issues such as response time, training and equipment may be because EMS services are still relatively new. It was not until 1928 that the first land based rescue squad began in the United States. Even in the 1980s, many rural areas lacked an ambulance service with trained EMS personnel. These areas relied on volunteers or used ambulanced from larger towns.
EMS professionals who want to know more about the National EMS Advisory Council can log onto www.nhtsa.dot.gov.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/regulating_ems.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/regulating_ems.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:27:19 +0000 No matter how kind an emergency worker is when he or she treats patients who are injured or sick, many will still refuse to go to the hospital. This presents a dilemma for the EMS worker. If you truly believe that the patient needs hospital care but is refusing to go, what can you do?
Most states have protocol in dealing with these difficult patient. While it may be somewhat different from state to state, the basic rules are the same. EMS workers must transport patients who are impaired. This could be by alcohol, drugs, head trauma, or a similar circumstance.
If none of the above circumstances are present, the EMS should follow several steps to protect themselves. In a litigious society, many people will still file a lawsuit even if it is the patient’s choice not to seek further treatment. Following these simple steps will protect the EMS worker from scrutinity from the patient and perhaps his or her director later.
- Explain to the patient the danger of not going the hospital. If money is an issue, assure the patient that the hospital will help them with the bills. Do everything you can to get the patient to go to the hospital.
- Document all of your treatment to the patient.
- Record the conversation with the patient, if possible. If you have a tape recorder, use it.
- Ask for help. Ask another worker to try to explain to the patient the seriousness their condition. Let your supervisor know what is happening. This covers you and gives you another ally in convincing the patient to go to the hospital.
- Before you release them, make sure all of their vital signs are stable enough to justify their release.
- Don’t become combative with the patient. It is easy to become frustrated with someone who doesn’t want to do what you feel is in their best interest. Treat the patient professionally. Use acalm voice.
- Try to call a doctor and have the doctor talk to the patient.
- Have the refusal documented with the call center and tell the call center the reason.
Sometimes, no matter what you do you will not be able to get the patient to the hospital. Don’t count it as a failure. If you did all you could do, let it go. You cannot take responsibility for patients that do not take responsibility for themselves.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/what_to_do_when_patients_dont.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/what_to_do_when_patients_dont.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:19:09 +0000 When a gunman took over the Virginia Tech campus on April 16, 2007, killing 32 students and faculty and injuring many more, paramedics and EMTs were among the first to observe the carnage. The shooting spree was the largest in U.S. history and no one could have prepared for the number of victims.
Rescue workers have to be professional and have to keep their emotions in check on any crime or accident scene. But first responders and paramedics are husbands, wives, daughters and sons who often cannot help the effect their jobs have on their emotions. Keeping emotions in check is a very difficult task for even the most experienced workers when the loss of life is so great and the violence is so brutal and senseless. In all cases, but particularly in cases like the Virginia Tech shootings and the Columbine High School shootings, rescue workers are susceptible to post-traumatic stress disorder, also known as PTSD, after living through such an awful event.
Medical professionals define post-traumatic stress disorder as an intense, physical and emotional response to thoughts and reminders of a traumatic event. These thoughts and reminders may last for weeks or months after the event. Sometimes the symptoms may occur years after the event.
The symptoms of PTSD include:
- Flashbacks, nightmares and extreme reactions to reminders of the event are usually present. These can include headaches, shaking, chills, fear of extreme harm when there is no danger and numbness.
- A person may avoid activities or places that remind them of the trauma.
- They may cut themselves off from others.
- They may be easily startled, cannot sleep and have unreasonable outbursts of anger.
- They often suffer from panic attacks, depression and isolation.
Immediately after the trauma, many of these symptoms are considered normal. To help diminish the effect of the trauma, rescue workers can:
- Relax, eat right and get a good night’s sleep.
- Tell family and friends about the symptoms.
- Try to keep a normal routine as possible.
- Enjoy a favorite hobby or activity with friends or family.
- If the symptoms become debilitating, seek professional help.
Supervisors can watch for these symptoms and step in if they believe the affected person is not getting help. Workers who suffer from PTSD will often find their symptoms are more intense when they are at another crime scene. This affects job performance and the entire department.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/dealing_with_post_traumatic_st.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/dealing_with_post_traumatic_st.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:15:08 +0000 It is a sound that no firefighter wants to hear---the beeping of a fellow firefighter’s personal alert safety device, also known as PASS. The PASS device is most vital piece of personal safety equipment a firefighter wears. In most fire departments, firefighters turn on their PASS when he or she turns on the self-contained breathing apparatus. The firefighter activates the PASS if he or she is trapped or it can be programmed to sound automatically when the firefighter ceases to move for more than 30 seconds.
If these devices are not working properly, the results can be devastating. In December 2003, 30-year-old firefighter Thomas Brick was battling a fire at a mattress warehouse in New York City. When his fellow firefighters could not find him, they searched for 30 minutes. His PASS alarm was barely audible. Two small children survive Brick, who was one of the first New York City firefighters to join the department after September 11.
MSNBC investigated PASS devices and found that 15 firefighters died since 1998 when the devices failed or were to quiet for rescuers to hear. The report revealed that many of the devices failed when they became too hot or wet. The MSNBC report criticized the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), which investigates firefighter’s deaths. According to MSNBC, the CDC ignored warnings that the devices were failing and did not take action to implement changes in the PASS device. Fire departments were not aware of the CDC’s concerns.
The National Fire Protection Association recognized flaws in the PASS system and warned firefighters in 2005 that the system could fail in extreme temperatures. In 2007, the association issued tougher standards for the PASS system. Now the devices must be able so sustain changes in temperature and should be able to pass a water immersion test. The devices will also undergo a series of tests to make sure that basic fire noise does not muffle the PASS sounds.
National lawmakers also took notice of the MSNBC report. In Feb. 2007, Sen. John Kerry (D-Mass.) asked the Department of Health and Human Services to investigators. Kerry told MSNBC, “Nearly 1 million brave men and women risk their lives every day; we owe it to them and to the families of the deceased firefighters to get answers and hold the negligent parties accountable.” Firefighters who want to express their concerns to Kerry can contact the senator through his website, kerry.senate.gov.

Article provided by Kim Berly]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/are_personal_alert_safety_devi.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/are_personal_alert_safety_devi.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:11:30 +0000 The deaths of firefighters who die while trying to protect others are tragic. According to the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH), between 1983 and 2002, 10 fire deaths occurred not at emergencies, but when firefighters were learning how to fight fires in live training exercises.
Live fire training is the most effective way to teach firefighter strategies that they use inside real fire emergencies. This is the ultimate on-the job training. Many departments have “burn buildings” where these exercises are held. Some departments are fortunate enough to have homes donated to them. These homes are burned and used for training.
No fire department wants to lose one of their own, so every safety precaution is taken. Still, when dealing with fire a lot can go wrong. In light of the 10 deaths, NIOSH makes these recommendations for live fire-training:
Instructors - Ensure that the instructor in charge is aware of his or her responsibility for overall coordination of the training and compliance with NFPA 1403. - Ensure that instructors are qualified to provide live-fire training. Verify instructor [NFPA 2002b] and officer qualifications [NFPA 2003a] through national certifying agencies such as the National Professional Qualifications Board, the International Fire Service Accreditation Congress, or through a State fire board or commission.
Site Set Up - Ensure that the acquired structure is adequate and safe to be used for live-fire training. Use Appendix B of NFPA 1403 as a checklist for pre-burn planning, building preparation, and pre-burn/post-burn procedures. - Develop, implement, and train fire fighters in standard operating procedures (SOPs) for live-fire training. - Conduct a pre-burn briefing session for all participants, and establish an evacuation plan and signal. - Ensure that a sufficient water supply is available. - Ensure that the fuels used in the live-fire training have known burning characteristics. - Inspect the structure for possible environmental hazards. - Do not use flammable or combustible liquids in live-fire training. - Do not set fires for live-fire training in any designated exit paths. - Do not allow anyone to play the role of victim inside the structure during live-fire training. - Establish a method of fire ground communication among the IC and fire fighters. - Ensure that proper ventilation is in place before the onset of a controlled burn and is coordinated with interior operations. - Ensure that backup personnel are standing by with equipment, ready to provide assistance or rescue. - Ensure that all fire fighters participating in live-fire training have had minimum basic training. - Ensure that each fire fighter is equipped with NFPA-compliant full protective clothing, a NIOSH approved self-contained breathing apparatus (SCBA), and a personal alert safety system (PASS). - Establish rehabilitation operations at training exercises that pose the risk of fire fighters exceeding a safe level of physical or mental endurance [NFPA 2003b].
Site Safety - Appoint a separate, adequately trained safety officer that has the authority to intervene in any aspect of the live-fire training. - Ensure that all participants are accounted for when entering and exiting the building. - Assign only one person as the ignition officer. Ensure that he or she is not a fire fighter participating in the training. - Ensure that the ignition officer lights only one training fire at a time. - Ensure that a charged hose line is present while igniting the fire. - Use a thermal imaging camera during live-fire training situations to observe fire fighters and monitor heat conditions for safety.
Training Participants - Follow Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) established by the department. - Use NFPA-compliant full protective clothing, an SCBA, and a PASS device, as provided by the department. - Do not enter a hazardous environment alone. Enter only as a team of two or more. - Be familiar with the fire department’s evacuation plan and signal.
Source: www.cdc.gov/niosh

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/live_fire_training_can_be_dang.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/live_fire_training_can_be_dang.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:08:59 +0000 Rescue workers face life and death situations almost daily. These situations could be the result of a heart attack, one of the most common emergencies that rescue workers face or a traumatic accident. Mnay emergencies are due to criminal activity where someone is hurt at the hands of another person.
Paramedics, first responders and EMT’s are not doctors but often must make quick decisions that they may feel they are not trained to do. One of the first things many families will ask after discovering their loved one has died is ask what was done to save their life. With lawsuits against hospitals and ambulance companies so prevalent, rescue workers need to make sure they follow strict guidelines when facing these situations.
The National Association of EMS Physicians (NAEMS) and the American College of Surgeons Committee on Trauma recognize that rescue workers need guidance when facing these decisions. Many of these suggestions seem obvious. According to the two organizations, life saving measures can be stopped in the following situations:
1. The patient has experienced blunt trauma, does not show any ECG activity and has no pulse.
2. They have no pulse and have what is defined as a penetrating trauma. This could be the result of a gunshot or stab wound. However, even though the patient may not have a pulse, other tests for signs of life should be conducted, such as ECG activity or spontaneous movement. If any of these signs are present, rescue workers should continue life-saving efforts and proceed to the nearest trauma unit.
3. If the person has been decapitated or literally cut in half, known by doctors as hemicorporectomym, life saving efforts should cease.
4. If the person has been without a pulse and is in rigor mortis or is decomposed, life saving measures are unnecessary.
Guidelines are constantly evaluated and often changed. Rescue workers should ask their employers what guidelines to follow and ask for a copy in writing. As with any situation, good documentation will prove that you followed the guidelines and did all you could do for a patient. Documentation and following guidelines quells concerns of family members reviewing their loved one’s death. Good documentation is also the best defense if a lawsuit or complaint is filed about the treatment of a patient.

Article provided by Kim Berly]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/when_to_save_a_life.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/when_to_save_a_life.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:07:46 +0000 Long after Easter, many rescue workers still find themselves wearing a “bunny suit.” These suits do not have floppy ears or a cottontail. “Bunny suits” are the nickname for Hazmat suits that rescue personnel wear to protect them from exposure to dangerous chemicals.
Even firefighters and first responders in small towns need this type of protection. Many trains carry hazardous materials and if they derail, these chemicals will spill and contaminate the ground, air and possibly the water supply. Many manufacturers use dangerous chemicals and one careless mistake by a worker can cause a major accident. When these accidents occur, first responders need to protect themselves with the right gear so they can protect the public.
Hazmat suits offer two levels of protection. Level A protects from all forms of chemicals, whether it is gas, solid, liquid or vapor. Level B suits do not protect from vapor or gasses. Since these suits cost anywhere from $4,000 to $10,000, many departments choose only to purchase the Level B suit. Even though these suits are costly, they are often only good for one-time use and must be disposed of once they are worn once.
The suits have several layers and may be uncomfortable. The first layer is a jumpsuit that fits tightly around the ankles, wrists and neck. This provides fire protection. A patch identifying the firefighter or first responder is located on the back of the jumpsuit.
The next layer, called the Tyvek suit, is a disposable suit that protects against most chemicals. The firefighter will carry a SCBA and a radio that is voice activated. In addition to the suit, Tyvek booties are placed over the firefighter’s shoes. The final step for Level B protection is a pair of latex surgical gloves. To help firefighters from overheating, departments can purchase a cooling vest that holds ice packs.
Any firefighter or first responder that is exposed to chemicals must be decontaminated. The denomination units, which resemble outdoor showers, should be set up in an area at least 100 feet away from the spill.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/the_bunny_suit.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/the_bunny_suit.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:06:10 +0000 What is one of the most dangerous things a firefighter encounters is the one he cannot do without--his gear. One of the first things a firefighter learns in training is how to use and take care of their turnout gear. However, after many years of fighting fires, many begin to neglect their gear and become carelessness.
Carelessness can lead to injuries or even death for firefighters. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), an Oregon firefighter who had worn turn out gear sustained chemical burns while putting out a fire at a methamphetamine laboratory. The firefighter was treated and released from a local hospital, but the situation could have been much worse.
If fire residue is not cleaning from turnout gear, it can become ignitable when the firefighter is at his next blaze. This could turn a minor fire into a scalding blaze. It does not take a lot of effort to clean out the gear. Here are some tips:
- Hose off the turn out gear after every fire.
- Read the instructions! Manufacturers will have detailed instructions as to how to take care of the turn out gear.
- Don’t use bleach. It can destroy the fabric.
- If you have holes or tears in protective clothing, tell your supervisor and ask for a replacement.
A firefighter’s self-contained breathing apparatus, or SCBA, should also be cleaned regularly. The SCBA should also be tested. Nothing is more dangerous than being caught in the heat of the fire and having the SCBA fail. If you have questions, check the manufacturer’s instructions or see your supervisor. As with the turn out gear, if you find problems with the SCBA, contact a supervisor immediately.
Proper personal protection is a must for firefighters. Taking care of gear and equipment can save a firefighter’s life and allow them to continue to save others.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/the_importance_of_proper_equip.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/the_importance_of_proper_equip.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:03:55 +0000 EMS workers must answer all types of calls. Often, these calls put them in danger. This is the case when the call is to a domestic violence situation. Statistics show that domestic violence is one of the most deadly situations, not only for the immediate family members but for police officers and emergency workers responding to the scene.
Some common sense safety techniques can keep a bad situation from getting worse.
- Don’t engage the perpetrator. Often he or she is already volatile and any provocation could lead to more violence. Law enforcement personnel are trained as to how to talk to the aggressors in these dangerous situations. If the EMS worker is the first person on the scene, he or she should try not to get involved. But if it seems that the violence is progressing, he or she should use their own judgment as to whether or not they want to get involved. - Don’t cross police lines to get to an injured party. Those lines are there for reason. As difficult as it is to stand by while someone is hurt, breaking that barrier could lead to more injuries. - Documentation is particularly vital in domestic situations. Sometimes the EMS worker is the first on the scene. Writing down everything can help police in their investigation. - All EMS workers should be trained in how to handle domestic situations. EMS workers should also understand that they may respond to the same homes repeatedly. Domestic violence is a tough cycle and often men and women feel they have no choice but to stay in their situations, no matter how bad they are. EMS workers may want to keep phone numbers and pamphlets from the nearest shelter to hand out to victims.
Local shelters and police are great resources for further education about the problems and issues surrounding domestic violence. Many communities offer classes for the public about domestic violence and are a good option if other resources are not available.

Article provided by Kim Berly ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/domestic_violence.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/domestic_violence.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:01:07 +0000 Often on a crime scene, the roles of law enforcement and EMS personnel clash. Rescue workers want to save lives while police are concerned with preserving evidence on the crime scene so that they can build a case to successfully prosecute those responsible. Remember, real-life police work is not that different from images depicted on “CSI.” Preserving the crime scene is important.
In many cases, rescue workers get to the scene before police. They may be required to go to court to testify about what they saw and their treatment of the victims. EMS workers can remember some simple rules for preserving crime scenes and preparing for court.
* If there is a lot of blood, try not to walk through it or touch it in anyway.
* Documentation is very important. Take extra time to make sure the report is thorough and correct.
* Include anything heard at the scene in your report. This includes statements by bystanders and witnesses. Some judges do not allow these statements in court but it is good to have them written in a report as close to verbatim as possible.
* If you move anything to get to a victim, document where it was originally. If any objects fall out of a patient’s clothing, document this as well.
* If a crime scene is determined to be a homicide, restrict the number of personnel allowed near the victim or victims.
* If a sexual assault has occurred, document any clothing removed during the examination and secure the clothing for police. If the clothing is torn, document where the tears are.
* Write down anything the patient says.
* Document the locations of all injuries. In cases of domestic violence, this includes any wounds that are healing or seem old.
* In domestic violence cases, look for signs of a struggle. This includes broken furniture, overturned objects and defense wounds on the victim.
Be professional when dealing with police, witnesses and victims. When the situation is tense and family members of the deceased or the perpetrator are still at the scene, things can easily become volatile. Rescue workers may have to step in and help law enforcement calm the situation. If one person is too out of control, some EMTs give a sedative to the person. EMTs should evaluate the situation and only give a sedative as a last resort. Document it carefully and have witnesses if possible.

Article provided by Kim Berly]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/preserving_a_crime_scene.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/preserving_a_crime_scene.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 06:58:10 +0000 Formal training and certification is indeed needed to become an EMT or a paramedic. A high school diploma is typically required for entering a formal training program. Some programs offer an associate degree along with the formal EMT training. All 50 States have a certification procedure. In most States and the District of Columbia, registration with the NREMT is required at some or all levels of certification. Other States administer their own certification examination or provide the option of taking the NREMT examination. To maintain certification, EMTs and paramedics must re-register, usually every 2 years. In order to re-register, an individual must be working as an EMT or paramedic and meet a continuing education requirement.
Training for an EMT and Paramedics is offered at progressive levels: (1) EMT-Basic, also known as EMT-1; (2) EMT-Intermediate, or EMT-2 / EMT-3 (3) EMT-Paramedic or EMT-4.
EMT-Basic coursework typically emphasizes on emergency skills, such as managing respiratory systems, trauma, cardiac related emergencies, and patient assessment. Formal courses are often combined with time in an emergency room or ambulance. The program also provides instruction and practice in dealing with bleeding, fractures, airway obstruction, cardiac arrest, and emergency childbirth. Students learn how to use and maintain common emergency equipment, such as backboards, suction devices, splints, oxygen delivery systems, and stretchers. Graduates of approved EMT basic training programs who pass a written and practical examination administered by the State certifying agency or the NREMT earn the title “Registered EMT-Basic.” The course also is a pre-requisite for EMT-Intermediate and EMT-Paramedic training.
EMT-Intermediate training requirements vary or differ from State to State. Applicants can be opted to receive training in EMT-Shock Trauma, wherein the caregiver learns to start intravenous fluids and give certain medications, or in EMT-Cardiac, which includes learning heart rhythms and administering advanced medications. Training commonly includes 35 to 55 hours of additional instruction beyond EMT-Basic coursework, and covers patient assessment as well as the use of advanced airway devices and intravenous fluids. Pre-requisites for taking the EMT-Intermediate examination include registration as an EMT-Basic, required classroom work, and a specified amount of clinical experience.
The most advanced level of training for this occupation is EMT-Paramedic. At this level, the caregiver receives additional training in body functions and learns more advanced skills. The Technology program usually lasts up to 2 years and results in an associate degree in an applied science. Such education prepares the graduate to take the NREMT examination and become certified as an EMT-Paramedic. Extensive related coursework, clinical and field experience is required for this field. Because of the longer training requirement, almost all EMT-Paramedics are in paid positions, rather than being volunteers. Refresher courses and continuing education are available for EMT’s and paramedics at all levels.
This particular field demands EMT’s and paramedics to be emotionally stable, have good dexterity, agility or flexibility, and physical coordination, and be able to lift and carry heavy loads. They also need good eyesight along with accurate color vision.
The State Emergency Medical Services (EMS) Authority and county EMS offices certify EMT-Is, EMT-II’s and EMT-Ps based on the following requirements:
EMT-I: (certified by county EMS offices)
- Minimum age should be 18 - Approved EMT training of 100 hours - Supervised clinical experience of 10 hours - 24 Hours of Refresher training or continuing education every two years - Length of certification that is two years - Tested for recertification every four years
EMT-II: (certified by county EMS offices)
- Minimum age: 18 - High school diploma or equivalent - EMT-I certification and one year field experience - Minimum of 210 hours of approved classroom and skills laboratory training - 96 hours clinical training & field internship - Minimum of 20 emergency advance life support patient contacts - Recertification examination every two years - 48 hours of continuing education every two years - Six field care audits of patient care records yearly
EMT-P: (licensed by State EMS Authority)
- Age 18 with high school diploma or equivalent - Valid EMT-l/II certificate - 320 hours-Approved classroom and skills laboratory - Approved hospital clinical training -- 160 hours - Approved field internship - 460 hours with a minimum of 40 patient contacts who required emergency advanced life support assistance. - Continuing education every two years - 48 hours including 12 hours of field care audits - Licensed by state
Paramedics with military experience who are on the national registry are eligible to challenge the skills exam to meet registration requirements set by the State EMS Authority. Additional training may be required.
There are over 200 EMT-I and eight EMT-II training sites in California.There are 31 EMT-P sites located in the larger metropolitan areas of the state.

Article provided by Future-tech Inc. ]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/training_other_qualifications.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/training_other_qualifications.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 06:39:13 +0000 Firefighting is very difficult work, so different types of equipments and tools are required to save victims, to assist fighting fire and salvaging property.Every piece of equipment is checked regularly to ensure it is in top working order. Mechanical problems are often fixed by engineers.
Gas-powered chainsaws are similar to the saws available to the public. The key difference is the carbide-tipped blade. Unlike common blades used to cut trees, these special blades can slice through roofs made of a variety of building materials. The circular saw compliments the standard chainsaw and is used to cut through metal and concrete of buildings.
Positive pressure fans are used for ventilation and are located in compartments on all the fire trucks. They blow smoke from structures and are placed at the entrances of the building or room where the operation is going on. Some fans are powered by gas, others by electricity. Fires aren't always easy to see, so firefighters employ other tools to locate flames. One is a relatively simple tool, while the other is a highly sophisticated piece of electronic hardware Pike is the more simplistic of the two tools .It is a long tool, measuring six to ten feet, with a tipped point and hook used to destroy ceilings to expose fire so it can be extinguished. Thermal imaging camera is designed to search for fire behind walls. The camera sees through smoke and walls to detect sources of heat where ever inside the building. Besides fire, heat sources include people or pets that may be trapped within burning buildings. The view screen creates an image through the wall or smoke that allows firefighters to see inside .This is very important equipment for finding out fire.
Jaws of Life are those tools which are available in various styles and sizes to serve variety of jobs. Victims aren't always trapped inside burning buildings. Sometimes it is seen that on road accidents drivers and passengers are trapped inside vehicles. Extracting a victim from a vehicle is a complicated process that requires neatness combined with the power of tools .In this time it becomes necessary to cut metal and rip through high-grade steel, this tool is required in this time .Jaws of Life is hydraulically powered. Two types of Jaws of Life are available. One of these tool is used to force open metal, such as car doors or roofs, while other chops through metal.
A hydraulic ram is used to provide leverage to force dashboards or other obstacles out of the way so that firefighters can extract victims from vehicles or other areas. Firefighter’s truck Firefighters use trucks as apparatus. They use different types of trucks as vehicle when they get a call to extinguish fire. Different types of tools, a long folding ladder and hose pipe are also carried in the truck.
Firefighting gear is the dress used by firefighters as they need maximum protection from the intense heat and flames of fires. This is also known as turnout gear or bunker gear which provides that protection. The gear weighs about 50 pounds, excluding tools. Multi-functional firefighter's tool has a head mounted on a long handle which is covered with an electrical and thermal insulator to decrease the occurrence of heat and electrical shocks to the user. An axe blade with a polygonal aperture sized to engage a typical gas valve is formed on one side of the head, the aperture having small bulbous cutouts at the vertices of the polygon. The mouth of a wrench is also formed at an edge of the head, the mouth defining two stepped surfaces to provide a multi-sized wrench. A spanner wrench sized for coupling and decoupling water hoses is formed on the other side of the head relative to the longitudinal axis of the handle, the spanner wrench being defined by a pry bar portion and a hook portion formed at an appropriate distance from the pry bar portion.
Firefighters have to carry heavy hoses, nozzles and other equipment at blazes besides their protective gear. The tools firefighters use are designed to assist them in searching for victims, knocking down obstacles and extinguishing fire.

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The Award Committee announced Mark Graeve the Rotary Club’s Outstanding Firefighter for 2006. Mark, a 12 year veteran of the Des Moines Fire Department, is a Senior Fire Medic who is currently assigned to Station 3 on the 1st Division. Mark has been serving selflessly on the squad for nine years. During this time he has helped an enormous number of people. For example, two years before when Mark was on duty, working at the Junior Olympics, when one of the men who worked at Veterans Auditorium had a heart attack. Mark quickly responded and was able to begin definite treatment that resulted in saving the man’s life. Mark has performed his duties without complaint and has been able inspire others to do the same. During his time on the squad Mark has mentored many students. He is a positive influence to them, not only in regards to their education, but also to their attitude towards the patients and the job in general. Mark accepts all tasks assigned to him willingly and always performs his duties in a professional manner. Whenever there is work to be done, Mark must be there until it is completed. Mark’s professionalism, work ethic, and selfless service are in keeping with the highest traditions of the fire service and reflect great credit upon himself and the entire Des Moines Fire Department.
Mark believes that continued education is imperative in order to provide excellent emergency medical care to his constituency. He consistently takes it upon himself to study manuals, EMS guidelines and other fire related educational materials. Additionally, he received a Bachelor of Arts Degree with concentration in Fire Science from Western Illinois University in May 2003.
Mark proudly protected the freedoms of his country while serving in the Iowa National Guard for over 22 years and eventually retired at the rank of Sergeant First Class. His military career also includes a period from June, 1979 until October, 1991, as an active duty member of the U.S. Marine Corps.
He spends his spear time working as a part time paramedic in the Emergency Department at Broadlawn’s Medical Center, volunteering for his church, and spending time with his family.
According to him, he tries to put himself in the place of the people who are in dire straights, when he is on alarms. By doing so, he becomes more empathetic and this helps him to treat people as he would want to be treated himself. As a provider of emergency services, Senior Fire Medic Graeve’s compassion; integrity; professionalism; and dedication to the mission of the Des Moines Fire Department is reflected in his work.
Firehouse Magazine Rescue Award Winners for 2002 COBB ANTHONY Firefighter Anthony Cobb was working his second job as a sheriff’s deputy when he heard the dispatch of Brewer units to a mobile home fire. Just after three minutes Cobb arrived at the scene in his sheriff’s cruiser. The center of the trailer was aflame. A neighbor told him that two people were inside. With no protective equipment Cobb entered the structure. Smoke forced him to crawl low to the floor. He saw a man’s hand through the smoke, grabbed it, and began to drag the 220 pound victim back to the door. Cobb was overcome by smoke and had to leave the trailer to get fresh air.
He immediately returned, grabbed the victim, and dragged him out the door to the ground. Cobb reentered the trailer to search for the second victim, but heat and smoke drove him out. As he clerked the front door the entire trailer flashed over. Although his own breathing passages were scorched and he was suffering from first degree burns, Cobb and bystanders dragged the victim to a safe area. At this point fire units arrived on scene and the victim was transported to the hospital. Although his pulse was restored in the ambulance he did not survive his injuries.
Hillsborough County Firefighter of The Year Award Patty Traina
At a high point in her career in 1997, when Patty Traina had just become the first woman to win the Hillsborough County Firefighter of the Year Award, she was diagnosed with Stage IV non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Her doctor told her if she had anything left she wanted to do; she'd better do it because nothing could be done to help her. A woman who lived and breathed her job as a firefighter, Patti had to think about what she might do next because even her most positive doctor felt that she would not be able to handle the demands of firefighting when she was finished with treatment. So while she was recovering, Patti trained as a paramedic. During her absence from the fire department, her work mates continued to visit, bring food, make sure the family had what it needed and keep her updated. And, with a great recovery and an emergency medical technician certification in hand, Patti Traina went back to the Hillsborough County Fire Department two-and-a-half years after she left. She was again a firefighter and now also a paramedic.
Carnegie Medal BRAIN ROTHELL
An ordinary mountain bike ride turned into a call-to-duty for Chesterfield County, Va. Firefighter Brian Rothell last year. The 18-year Virginia firefighter encountered a man attempting suicide on the Nickel Bridge in Richmond, Va. on March 25, 2006, who he helped save from taking a 50-foot plunge. For his display of heroism, Rothell was recently awarded with the Carnegie Medal.

Article provided by Future-tech Inc.]]> http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/people_who_got_firefighter_awa.html http://www.myrescueteam.com/Firefighter_and_EMS_Articles/2007/08/people_who_got_firefighter_awa.html Wed, 08 Aug 2007 06:33:06 +0000 The work or the function of Paramedics is to deal with emergency cases, as well as complex non-emergency hospital admissions, discharges and transfers, carrying out certain surgical procedures, and administering a range of drugs for the patients who are in trauma or emergency conditions. Paramedics work as part of a rapid response unit with support from an ambulance technician. Therefore, to get into a field of paramedics a person should be trained properly so that they don’t do any mistake or they should not have any doubts regarding their responsibilities and duties.To work as a paramedic the person has to be State registered with the Paramedics Board at the Health Professions Council. To get enrolled he/she need to complete a HPC approved qualification and period of training. There are two routes through which one can get registered in Paramedics:-
- Higher education, Direct-entry route and - Traditional work-based route.
DIRECT-ENTRY ROUTE
The higher education route to state registration as a paramedic is to undertake a HPC (Health Professions Council) approved course. HPC provides courses which include foundation degrees, Diploma of Higher Education (Dip HE) courses, and B.SC (Hons.),degrees in Paramedic Science etc.
Courses combine technical as well as work-related skills. Typically, candidates attend university full-time during the first year, and one day a week for the following two or three years, Full-time programmes aims at new entrants; the part-time version is open to qualified paramedics who, although are able to practice, may still wish to achieve the qualification. The duration of a course can range from two years full-time to five years part-time.
TRADITIONAL WORK-BASED ROUTE
The traditional route to paramedic training is to work for at least one year as a fully qualified ambulance technician, and pass the selection test for paramedics. Once accepted for paramedic training, he/she will have to follow an intensive course lasting 10 to 12 weeks consisting of theory and practical clinical experience, and leading to the Institute of Health Care Development (IHCD) qualification. nbsp; They have to spent several weeks in various hospital departments, including the operating theatre, coronary care unit, and accident and emergency. Subjects studied include anatomy, physiology, pharmacology and advanced patient assessment. After passing a final assessment, he or she qualify as a paramedic and can register with the HPC. Paramedics attend regular training and re-assessment, including re-certification every three years.
OPPORTUNITIES
Employment opportunities within the field of Paramedics are expected to grow faster than the average throughout the next five to ten years. An employment prospect of Paramedics includes:
- Private Ambulance Services - Fire - Police - Rescue Squad Departments. Paramedics are mainstay in companies or agencies operating emergency vehicles that respond to traffic accidents, fires, explosions, cave-ins, emergency rescue calls and other life-threatening situations. Some also assist in patient care in hospitals and doctors' offices, with specific instruction and supervision. Most ambulance personnel’s are trained by and work for the NHS, although there are some opportunities to train and work in the armed forces or private ambulance services.
Some ambulance services employ experienced paramedics in the role of emergency care practitioner (ECP).This involves working in a variety of settings such as the patients own home, GP surgery and minor injuries unit, with patients who have serious but not life-threatening problems. Experienced and qualified paramedics will need to undertake additional training in order to apply for this role. Local ambulance trusts will have more information.Some services offer the opportunity to train as helicopter ambulance crews or to operate car or motorcycle rapid response units. Paramedics can also progress into areas such as operational management, training, or human resources. Paramedics are increasingly working in other areas of health care, such as the community, with GPs and practice nurses, caring for patients in the surgery and visiting them at home.

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