Third-Generation Hotshotter Fights Western Wildfires

My youngest nephew graduated from high school this year, and is spending the summer on a Hotshot crew, not far from Truckee, California. He's a third generation Hotshotter. I'm not sure they were called Hotshot crews in his grandpa's day. Although, I recall stories of the grandfather working on fire crews for the U.S. Forest Service in the Wrightwood, California area, sometime around World War II.

Both the grandfather and father started their firefighting careers on a U.S. Forest Service fire crew, and then went on to work for the Los Angeles Country Fire Department, where both eventually retired.

I remember when my nephew's father, my sister's husband, worked for Hotshot crews when they were first married. One year he was stationed in Oregon, while my sister remained back in San Diego, to attend college. That summer my sister and I decided to surprise him, and took a car trip up the California coast to Oregon. By the time we got there, he had already been sent to a fire in Arizona.

But, that was the life of the Hotshot crew. They are sent where they are needed. The Hotshot crews are an elite team of wild land firefighters, who have an excellent reputation throughout the United States and Canada. Each year the Bureau of Land Management hires seasonal fire fighters for the Hotshot crews, many who return year after year.

One summer, when I was still in college, my brother-in-law tried to convince me to join a fire crew. It was about 1973, and the government was just beginning to actively recruit minorities and women.

My sister and her husband were living at Blacks Mountain, California, at the time, where he was stationed for the summer. His suggestion didn't appeal to me. I couldn't imagine enduring the long hard days, the physical endurance required, not to mention the danger of fighting an out of control forest fire.

But here it is, thirty-five years later, and my young nephew, like his father and grandfather, is one of the young people risking his life to help bring into control the fires that are once again raging through California.

My daughter lives in Sacramento, California, and she tells me of the smoky air they have been forced to endure. Today my husband spoke to another friend in that area, who also complained about the heavy smoke. But, I keep thinking of my young nephew.

After his first fire he called my sister. It was late at night, and he was exhausted. But, he was also exhilarated and loving his job, in spite of the physically challenging work, the long hours, and the danger. It is a rewarding line of work, and a very grown up job for a young man who was not that long ago a high school student with a curfew.

Fortunately, they don't just throw inexperienced high school boys onto a fire crew. First there were fire classes, and after he arrived at his new station, there was instruction and physical training. Those on the fire crew must be physically fit. Even during the first days on the crew, before ever being sent on a fire, new arrivals are worked long physical hours.

When I watch the news at night, giving updates on the fires, I think of my nephew and wonder where he is, and how he's faring. I think of those days I lived in a small mountain community and remembered how the local grocery store would hire part time labor to help make sandwiches for the fire crew. I wonder, who is making sandwiches for my nephew.