Thanks Gilbert

During the summers while I was in college I worked for the US Forest Service as a GS-4 fire fighter. We worked along with the county and state guys (CDF) on local fires and with other USFS crews when they shipped us out of region. I spent time on a line crew before finally moving up to an engine. I was stationed on Engine 310 - Green Valley, Western Region, in the Angeles National Forest. Three of us lived at the station. The foreman, Gilbert, lived with his family in a small house and I lived in a trailer with another crewmember; I think his name was Tommy Thompson. Yes, I know, bad parents. Bygones. Tommy had the stereo so who was I to complain? We worked six days on, one day off. For the most part we spent long, hot days clearing brush, beating weeds, building cisterns and training. From time to time we fought fires.

By the way, if you ever get the opportunity to ride in a fire engine on the way to a fire with the sirens blaring, by all means take advantage. It is surely one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. We drove a standard USFS green, International dual cab unit. We washed it daily. It was beautiful. Whenever a spotter sighted smoke or, in most cases dust clouds, we rushed for the engine, changed into Nomex and headed out towards the fire. Sometimes we arrived quickly and had first shot at the flames. Mostly, County units beat us and we set up the perimeter.

The first time I fought a fire with Engine 310, Gilbert saved my life. The fire started on a hillside and moved slowly up-slope towards the summit. We worked from below. A line crew cut a break between the burn and the grass and our crew followed with live hoses. Basically, our job was to try not to piss off the line guys and connect as many trunk lines as we could to the main line that snaked its way up the hill. If we were not spraying water we humped hose up the hill from the truck. The hose packs weighed about 40 lbs. The clamps, Elkarts and spanners added five or ten more. The hoses tended to burst so the battle was as much with the hoses as the fire. I was at the head of the line with an Elkart, sweeping water across a flare up. Gilbert stood behind me yelling instructions. Fires are amazingly loud. Most of the noise comes from the combustion of grass and brush. Add to that the crews yelling, engines pumping water, bulldozers cutting fire break and overhead aircraft making water drops and the sound is deafening. I was pretty far into the burn, couldn’t really see much because of the smoke and just kept sweeping the water across the base of the flame. I felt Gilbert let go of me and didn’t think anything of it. What I didn’t realize was that Gilbert had been yelling, “wind shift, wind shift” and, thinking I was right behind him, had headed down the slope. The flame had crept around the water spray and I was standing in a pocket of flame about to be “ate”. Gilbert saw I was in trouble, ran back up the slope, grabbed me by the belt and pulled me out. Once the light went on in my thick skull, I joined Victor running down to avoid the advancing fire. We laughed, he called me an idiot, but, really, he saved my life.

Gilbert, may he rest in peace, died in 1981, trapped by a fast moving brush fire near Elizabeth Lake trying to save his engine crew. Gilbert’s brother George also died with his helitack crew when their Jet Ranger crashed in the 1970 San Gabriel Canyon Fork fire. Bad luck. There’s a nice fallen firefighter's memorial in Sacramento with George and Gilbert’s names inscribed on it.

Thank you, Gilbert.