By Michael S. Terwilliger
In 1949, the Mann Gulch Fire in Montana took the lives of 13 firefighters. They were smoke jumpers who mistakenly misjudged the potential of this fire and paid the ultimate price. I feel the only positive outcome of this tragedy was the development of the 10 Standard Fire Orders (see Table 1). As we all should know, these are hard and fast rules that are to be followed in some fashion while engaged in wildland fire control. While assigned as a superintendent of a hotshot crew, the late Paul Gleason took this a step further after watching firefighters die in the Dude Fire in Arizona and developed LCES: Lookouts, Communication, Escape Routes, Safety Zones. Gleason was aware that under stress we could not remember our birthday, let alone 10 orders. Conversely, if we remember LCES simply because four items are much more retrievable under stress, we could avoid most situations that will hurt us. The 10 Standard Orders/LCES could also be described as a method to extract or elicit some physical response or behavior that will keep you out of harm’s way before bad things happen. Either response is ultimately intended to save your life.
These programs have been developed from good intentions going bad at wildfires. By that I mean there has never been (I hope) a firefighter who developed a plan, understood it was designed to hurt or kill people, and implemented it. It always seems like a good idea at the time, but the missing component of the decision process is awareness of the indicators telling you the plan is going to go bad. In modern burnover situations, we always see in the final report a list of the 10 standard orders that were not followed and contributed to or caused the negative outcome. Negative outcome is a nice way of describing burns and death. We must ask ourselves what caused these experienced firefighters to disregard the rules of engagement to get themselves in the position to be chased around and burned. There must be some pattern that has coaxed them into the “kill zone” even when they have the tools to avoid the problem or at least recognize the potential looming before them. As with all situations, we have to exclude the “Mad Max” syndrome because that component of our profession will always find a way to get an “E- Ticket Ride” regardless of training and knowledge.
In the wildfire industry, the abovementioned patterns are known as the Common Denominators of Near Miss and Fatal Forest Fires. In simpler terms, the question has always been, What did all of these bad fires have in common? Of course, wildfires are not the only fires that hurt and kill us. In structural firefighting, it may be structural collapse in residential fires. I bet there are also or should be the Common Denominators of Near Miss and Fatal Structure Fires.
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So let’s take a look at the Common Denominators that have taken lives or hurt firefighters at wildfires across the country.
COMMON DENOMINATORS
1. Most incidents happen at smaller fires or isolated portions of larger fires. What is painfully obvious to me in this finding is what it doesn’t say, which may come as a surprise to those outside the wildfire community. Firefighters are not getting killed consistently in crown fires or fires in heavy fuels burning 1,000 acres per hour. We did not hear about fatalities at the Rodeo or Hayman Fires last summer when they were gobbling acres and homes. Why? Well, a friend of mine who used to run the Mendocino Hotshots rationalized it like this: “When things get dicey, we sit down and let the big dawg eat.” In nonhotshot lingo, this means we have a tendency to stay in areas of safe refuge, apply tactics with great forethought, and just generally don’t mess with fires when they are off to the races.
Now you may say that hot running fires are killing firefighters, and that is very true. The key to understanding this concept is what the fire was doing when we decided to take action. In most cases, the fire was small in size or the accident happened on an isolated part of a large fire and, most importantly, the fire was not very active when the firefighters started to work. In 1953, 14 missionary firefighters were killed on the Rattlesnake Fire in western Glenn County, California. The fire was burning upslope in brush under afternoon upslope winds. A weather phenomenon unique to this region manifested itself, and a strong downslope wind emerged above the fire. It lofted spot fires well below the main fire in a brush field. The fires were smoldering, and it was late in the day. The spot fires were below a suppressed portion at the heel of the main fire. The missionary crew was directed to suppress the spot fires, the downslope wind surfaced, and 14 firefighters were killed as the downslope wind-driven fire overran them.
Hopefully, you are now getting the gist of from where the 10 Standard Orders evolved. The rules tell you what to look out for and how to position yourself should this small, calm, or isolated fire erupt into a killer. In the Rattlesnake Fire, the fires were small and calm, yet the officer directing the crew was not aware of the predictable weather problem and the winds aloft as he should have been. He failed the test of the 10 Standard Orders but, equally important, he was coaxed into this bad decision by a calm and isolated situation.
 (1) Fire-fighters generally are not hurt at fires exhibiting high rates of spread or intensities. (Photos by author.) |
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2. Most fires are innocent in appearance before the flareups or blowups. In some cases, tragedies occur in the mop-up stages. In my mind, this is consistent with #1. Once again, firefighters are not getting whacked consistently while attacking large, powerful fires (see photo 1). They are in situations that are mundane enough to give a false sense of security. In 1987, two engine companies and one hand crew were overrun by the Crank Fire, a timber fire in Modoc County in northern California. This fire was about three acres in size burning in pine stand ground litter, was started by lightning, and gave every indication that it could be handled by the resources on-scene with direct attack. As the attack progressed with a hoselay and handline, a dry thunder cell approached the fire. The incident commander was aware of the approaching storm and advised the on-scene captain. The storm and the impending microburst arrived immediately after, and the fire erupted into 7,000 acres in the next few hours. Both engines and crew carrier were destroyed, and the personnel were in fire shelters for an hour before their escape. The captain involved mentioned in the after-action report that the fire was innocent in nature and that he had handled many in the past with the same tactics and equipment. It was his knowledge of the 10 Standard Orders that saved him and his personnel in that they had an escape route and deployment zone in mind prior to the event. Actually, he thought the deployment zone was a safety zone, but the fire intensity changed it to a deployment zone in a heartbeat. That mistake has monumental educational value. Know the difference between a safety zone and a deployment zone before you are looking at the fire under the front seat of your engine crying for your mother!
 (2) Firefighters can be lulled by the innocent appearances of fires in light flashy fuels. |
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3. Flareups generally occur in deceptively light fuels. This is consistent with basic fire chemistry in that light fuels will burn better than heavy fuels. That is because they dry out faster and have less surface area to volume, so they vaporize and burn faster. In fact, 90 percent of the flaming front of a wildfire is carried primarily by the fine fuels. With this basic understanding, why do experienced firefighters get burned by light flashy fuels? Once again, we are coaxed into believing we can handle a fire less intense than a crown fire in timber. You do not have to be very experienced to know you should avoid a timber fire in its full fury; a grass fire is less imposing, and we will try it (see photo 2). The problem is, we confuse fire intensity with rate of spread, and we do not respect the British thermal units (BTUs) generated by a grass fire. So, the grass fire may not be very intense at first glance, but it generates adequate energy to kill you immediately, and it can cover great distances very quickly with a subtle change in the fire environment, such as wind.
During the summer of 1979, four firefighters lost their lives at the Spanish Ranch Fire in San Luis Obispo County, California. They were hiking up an indirect bulldozer line to reach the top of a hill so they could bring fire back down to the road. The fuels involved were light grass and shrubs. They were working the flank of this fire. About halfway up the hill, the wind changed and blew the fire in their direction. The fuels were so light they were unable to ignite them with firing devices in time to create an effective backfire to protect them from the oncoming fire. Three were killed instantly on the dozer line and another died more than 200 days later from complications from severe burns. The captain was seasoned and experienced, and (most painful of all) I knew him. What lulled him into ignoring or disregarding many of the 10 Standard Orders? An innocent fire in light flashy fuels before the flareup.
 (3) Fires in steep drainages or chutes will spread extremely fast, with heated air preceding the flaming front. |
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4. Fires run uphill surprisingly fast in chimneys, in gullies, and on steep slopes. Yeah, we know that. Fires on slopes cause the flames to bend closer to the fuels and preheat them so the fire burns faster, just like the effect of wind. Chimneys act like a wood stove with fire in it. You open the door and introduce oxygen, the burn rate increases, the heated gases go out the stovepipe, and it will really roar. Well, the firebox in your stove is the bottom of the chute, and the stovepipe is the chute itself. If you are in the stovepipe at a wildfire, it can get dicey quickly (see photo 3). We should know this. If you spend much time at wildfires, you will see it happen and hear the jet engines roar. So, if this is common knowledge, why do we kill firefighters in these situations? Well, I have a couple of ideas.
At the Loop Fire in 1966 in the southern California region, 11 members of the El Cariso Hotshots died and 12 other firefighters were injured while constructing a fire line in a very steep chute. Oddly enough, the chute was known as Chimney Canyon, the resulting name of the investigation. The fuels were very sparse, with heavier fuels at the bottom of the chute. The crew was cold trailing a downhill piece of line to secure it to another crew working up from the bottom. When the fire heated up below them, the chute was steep, and footing was extremely difficult. The heated gases arrived prior to any fire, and the firefighters were incinerated quickly. One recommendation from the preliminary report was to “make crystal clear in firefighter training that a chimney, narrow box canyon, or similar topographic feature is a hazardous area even if devoid of fuel.”
This crew was as experienced as you can get. Allegedly, another hotshot crew refused the assignment. Was it bravado that caused this event, lack of recognition of the potential of chutes and light flashy fuels, or just hard-working folks doing a job? Those interviewed thought they could handle the assignment.
Another area of debate is the effect of a helicopter flying by the base of the chute prior to the flareup. Incidentally, this is the next common denominator on the list.
Take a moment and mentally place yourself on a ridge line above a fire. Now, cloud your vision with heavy smoke so thick it burns your eyes and nose. Breathing is difficult. Add the noise of the fire and the fear or apprehension you might feel. You have lost control of the senses you need to effectively maintain your environment or faculties. If you get scared or you fear for your life, which way will you run? If you said the path of least resistance, you are probably right. On a ridge top, this is most likely downhill, and when you run down a ridge top, you will many times end up in what is called a saddle. Unfortunately, a saddle is the top of a chute. If the fire is running hard, it will follow the chute first, and there you are with a big bullseye on your shirt. How did you get in this pickle in the first place? Considering the 10 Standard Orders will keep you from getting to be part of those tragic and near-miss situations.
 (4)The wind generated from the rotors from this Type I helicopter can exceed 100 miles per hour. |
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5. Some suppression tools, such as helicopters and air tankers, can adversely affect fire behavior. The blasts of air from low-flying helicopters and air tankers have been known to cause flareups. The cushion of air a helicopter rides on from the rotors is surprisingly strong; when it strikes the ground, it can generate wind speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour. The wind vortices developed off the wings of a low-flying aircraft can surface as well and enhance a wildfire. If you are working around aircraft, keep an eye on them at all times (see photo 4).
As I noted regarding the Loop Fire, it has long been debated whether the helicopter caused the flareup that shoved superheated gases up Chimney Canyon. I do know it is within the realm of possibilities. During the summer of 1994, I was involved in the Crystal Peak Fire in eastern California outside Reno, Nevada. A Chinook helicopter (two rotors) was working a piece of line in support of two engine companies. The pilot dropped on this timber fire much too low. The rotor wash introduced 60- to 80-mile-per-hour winds. It pushed this fire into the crowns and, unfortunately, into those two engines—twice! The crew was not injured, but both engines were burned significantly—one had to be taken out of service. The handles on the exposed hand tools were burned as if they had been in a campfire.
During the summer of 1996, I was assigned as the Operations Section chief at the Coleville Fire on U.S. Route 395 south of Reno. It was located on the eastern escarpment of the Sierra. An air tanker was directed to drop from the top of the escarpment, downslope and east, on a piece of hot line in light fuels. A hand crew was working upslope putting in direct line. The drop was too low and too aggressive. The drop missed the target because of the falling-away slope, but the wind from the wings did not. The fire made a sudden push down-slope and forced the firefighters to take refuge in the burn. It was a momentary flareup, but it had the magnitude and intensity to cause harm if you were in the way.
This denominator is different from the first four in one key way. The first four are predicated on the condition of the fire environment occurring naturally in the woods. This last one is mechanical inducement that replaces or enhances a key component of the fire environment: wind. The common link with all five is that the situation will be there whether you are or not, and you must be able to recognize the moons lining up prior to the event’s happening. In simpler terms, any firefighter can watch a canyon explode into flame and marvel at the power. A professional will tell you prior to its happening and, if the situation allows, suggest you get your camera ready because “the big dawg is gonna eat.”
- Fight fire aggressively, but provide for safety first.
- Initiate all action based on current and expected fire behavior.
- Recognize current weather conditions, and obtain forecasts.
- Ensure instructions are given and understood.
- Obtain current information on fire status.
- Remain in communication with crew members, your supervisor, and adjoining forces.
- Determine safety zones and escape routes.
- Establish lookouts in potentially hazardous situations.
- Retain control at all times.
- Stay alert, keep calm, think clearly, act decisively.
Table 1. 10 Standard Fire Orders
MICHAEL S. TERWILLIGER is chief of the Truckee (CA) Fire District. He began his career in 1972 with the California Department of Forestry, where he served for 24 years in the following assignments: division chief of operations (South) in the Nevada-Yuba-Placer Ranger Unit and operation section chief and planning section chief on a Type I team from 1988 to 1996. He is a certified fire behavior analyst. Terwilliger is incident commander for Sierra Front Wildfire Cooperators Team, which operates along the eastern California/Nevada border. He also instructs operations section chiefs, division group supervisors, and strike team leaders.
