North of Boston
THEY aint much happened sence the last riting. Long last summer we had some campaign fires that cost the state bettern a quarter of a million. A campaign fire is a forest fire that just goes on and on and on. Every 24 hours it uses up a lot of men, gasoline, tools, hose, pumps, radios, and food, plus a hundred other odd items.
I was food officer on wun part of wun fire. Long about dark wun night I took the jeep to check on how good the grub was getting back onto the fire lines. Drive five miles of mountain road and pull into a supply and communications center. The air is full of smoke, the blat of radios and the howl of pumps. A jeep comes down offen the lines and a big character looking like wun of the hard guys in "High Noon" half falls out. He is a line boss coming off after 36 hours straight.
Do my business and load him into my jeep. I ast him why he is wearing his personal artillery. "Fraid a bear would get burned and lose his head and jump some of my men." I enquire did he see any. "See a big wun just before I come down. He'd singed his feet and was stepping high and light. I'd singed mine and was doing the same. We both felt ugly and sort of agreed not to start nuthin seemed, like good judgment."
Swung the jeep up onto a high point and we looked back. The ridges was red tor two miles bright fire jumping and crowning in spots. Not a nice place to be.
It was a deal that separated the men from the boys. I do wish that some of you fellers could of spent a few days and nights with us. Knowing you, I know you might of liked it.
