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Fire Science

In the words of Stephen Pyne, a professor in the School of Life Sciences at Arizona State University, “Fire isn’t listening. It doesn’t feel our pain. It doesn’t care – really, really doesn’t care. It understands a language of wind, drought, woods, grass, brush and terrain, and it will ignore anything stated otherwise.”
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When I was taking S-339, one of the instructors made a comment to the class that “wildland fire isn’t rocket science”.
Immediately, the other instructor said, “that’s right, wildland fire isn’t rocket science. It’s way more complicated than rocket science”!
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Definition of the term "Chain" used in Firefighting

I have heard references to distances measured in "chain" lengths, but never knew exactly what it was. Fulfilling the USWFA's duty to keep its members updated on the most important matters, here's the definition:

 

A chain is a unit of length; it measures 66 feet or 22 yards (20.1168m). There are 10 chains in a furlong, and 80 chains in one statute mile. An acre is the area of 10 square chains (that is, an area of one chain by one furlong)."The chain was commonly used with the mile to indicate land distances and in particular in surveying land for legal and commercial purposes.

The clergyman Edmund Gunter developed a method of surveying land accurately with low technology equipment, using what became known as Gunter's chain; this was 66 feet long and from the practice of using his chain, the word transferred to the actual measured unit. His chain had 100 links, and the link is used as a subdivision of the chain as a unit of length. 

In United States the chain is normally used as the measure of the rate of spread of wildfires (chains per hour), both in the predictive National Fire Danger Rating Systems as well as in after-action reports. 

 

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In Honor of Labor Day - Here are Murphy's Laws of Wildland Firefighting

1. If it's a stupid idea but works, it isn't stupid.
2. Don't look conspicuous, it attracts work.
3. Never work at a fire that is braver than you.
4. Never forget that your equipment was made by the lowest bidder.
5. If your efforts are going really great, you're in the wrong place.
6. All fire fronts 1 hour away, will arrive in 30 minutes.
7. The media will turn up, just as your brilliant plan turns to s&&t.
8. When you have an area under control, don't forget to tell the fire.
9. If you are short of everything except fire, things are normal.
10. Things that must work together, usually aren't shipped together.

11. The maps sent to you will be the wrong ones.
12. Reinforcements will arrive, as soon as the fire is contained.

13. Anything you do will be wrong, including doing nothing.
14. If you put out more fire than you are asked to, you will be given more fire to put out.
15. You will always have more fire than water.
16. The distance from a piece of equipment you need is directly proportional to the urgency with which you need it.
17. The firebreak you spent all night constructing is in the wrong place.
18. Your biggest save will have no witnesses.
19. Your biggest mistake will have hundreds of witnesses.
20. The person who contributed least to the fire fighting effort will be the only one interviewed on the six o-clock news.

And last,
21. No matter how bad things get, it will look worse on TV.

 

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First Recorded Fire Shelter Deployment
October 29, 1804
William Clark

The Prarie was Set on fire (or caught by accident) by a young man of the Mandins, the fire went with such velocity that it burnt to death a man & woman, who Could not get to any place of Safty, one man a woman & Child much burnt and Several narrowly escaped the flame. ... The couse of his being Saved was a Green buffalow Skin was thrown over him by his mother who perhaps had more fore Sight for the pertection of her Son, and [l]ess for herself than those who escaped the flame, the Fire did not burn under the Skin leaveing the grass round the boy. This fire passed our Camp last [night] about 8 oClock P.M. it went with great rapitidity and looked Tremendioius.

 

 

 

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(This scene takes place at Los Angeles County Fire Department Camp 13, which is a female inmate fire camp in the hills above Malibu. Firefighters  from the nearby Helitak Camp 8  have arrived to help build a rock wall.)  

 

Two of the camp’s firefighters started up a mixer and added water and concrete mix. Our crew began moving the rocks across the road to the edge of the trench. When the concrete was ready, Raphael, Luis and I carried buckets from the mixer and poured the concrete on the rock. The inmates spread it and placed the next layer of stones. What a scene. I was a firefighter, working with my crew at a women’s prison camp in a forest in Malibu, building a stone wall under a hot December sun. Even my father might enjoy this picture, there were plenty of women around.

I watched the rear end of a blond woman as she bent over to pick up stones. She had tattoos on her arms and the head of a snake showing above her collar on the back of her neck. The tattoos made her look sexy in a tough way. She set a large piece of granite into the concrete. “How do you like fighting fires?” I asked her.

She laughed. “Bring ‘em on,” she said. “It’s a buck an hour.”

“That’s what you get paid?”

“What we get paid is two dollars an hour for forty hours a week in the camp. When California burns, we get an extra buck an hour plus overtime. It almost makes you hope for fire.” I looked at her. She stared back. “Last year I picked up an extra thousand,” she said.

“Spend it?” I asked.

“No, I saved it. I’m out of here in January.” She turned and picked up another chunk of granite. She had a nice ass. “I was at Chino for two and a half years.”

I walked back to the mixer with my bucket and filled it. I came back across the road. “You a serial killer?” I asked her.

She shot me another look. “Me, a killer?” she laughed. “Naw, I was using. My boyfriend and I got high one night and tried to break into a Seven-Eleven. We set off an alarm and he drove off without me. I was so stoned I just stood there until the Sheriffs arrived.”

“Nice boyfriend.”

“He was okay. He pimped for me when we needed money.”

So she was a hooker. I remembered Jake’s comment about the tattoos and wondered if she had others. Maybe the snake started on her leg, wound around her body, across her breasts, and up the back of her neck. “What happens when you get out?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. I’ve been going to pre-release class, but all they tell us is not to do the same stuff that got us in here. Who’s gonna hire someone who’s been in the can?”  She gazed off for a moment at the trees.

“Well, good luck,” I told her. She’d probably be looking for Johns by the end of her first week out.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Greg.” The snake would be a big turn-on for some guys. She probably charged extra.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Cindy.” She gave me one more look. This time it wasn’t the tough one, but just a glance from a young blond girl with no tattoos. It made me uncomfortable.

“My boyfriend wouldn’t get away with something like that,” the inmate working next to Cindy said. “If he took off without me, I’d cut his balls off.”

Cindy hooted. “Honey, I’d have to cut his dick off. He lost his balls years ago.”

As the work on the wall progressed, the Camp 13 foremen encouraged the women, addressing each inmate with “Miss” and a last name. The swampers reminded their crews to hydrate and called for brief rest periods every thirty minutes. By mid-morning, it was getting hot and we all moved into the shade for a break to drink water and Gatorade. The cement mixer stopped and two foremen went to get more concrete.

“All these women in here for drugs?” Luis asked a firefighter named Bates as we stood under a Pine tree.

“Meth, other drugs, welfare fraud, bad checks, mostly non-violent crimes. But see that one over there?” Bates said, pointing to a petite woman with a pigtail hanging down her back. “She ran over her husband’s girlfriend with a car. Didn’t kill her, just broke her legs. And Miss Engel,” Bates said, “the one on the phones? She helped hide a man’s body, after her husband killed him.”

“Remind me not to spend the night here,” Luis said.

“My mom wanted to run my father over with her car,” I said. “He beat her up all the time and she wanted to kill him.” Bates looked at me. “She had it all planned out. She was going to smack him on the driveway while he was working on his Harley.”

Luis was staring at me. “You never told me this,” he said.

Jake started to smile.

“She had an old Taurus. My old man’s so mean, she would have hit him, the front bumper would have fallen off, and he’d still be standing there without a scratch.”

Jake was laughing.

It should have happened. Mom, if you had thought of doing that, I would have helped you. I would have hidden the body.

“We try to help these women,” Bates said. “We’re not cops.”

While we built the wall, some of the inmate crews practiced the “Throw and Go” across the road. A hundred foot long rain gutter, a foot off the ground, was filled with sand and fuel oil. When ignited, the flame spread through the gutter and created a line of fire giving off black, acrid smoke. We watched as the women moved in a circle, heads and faces covered by fire helmets, goggles and shrouds. They scooped dirt with their shovels, stepped up to the fire, threw the dirt over the flames, moved out of the way, and started again. The flames died for a few seconds and reignited. The heavy black smoke from the burning fuel oil swirled around them.

“Faster, faster,” we heard a foreman shout. “Throw the dirt and go, get out of the way for the next person. Don’t dump it, spread it horizontally. Use your wrist and throw it, try to knock the flames out. If you’re at a brush fire, you’ve got to know how to do this.”

 

Excerpt from One Foot in the Black

             http://www.kurtkamm.com

 

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I helped carry Jim Ramage to the helicopter that would take him on his last flight. His remains were draped in an American flag. Firefighters hovered over the remains of four that day and I had been ensuring that Jim was taken care of. He was carried with honor and dignity up a steep hill by myself, Jim Morrison and four firefighters. We put him in the back of a 212 along with another and then the bird was started and then lifted off. The familiar Whop-Whop-Whop sound of a Bell stirred the air and it brought tears to my eyes. How many times have we all heard that sound and still love it? How many times had Jim heard it in Viet Nam, flying contract, flying for CDF, and then for the USFS? It's been a long, tough,exhausting, painful lousy week. I have been putting this off since last Wednesday when I was told that my friend, our friend, Jim Ramage was taken from us. Since then, there has been no time to sit down and remember. So here it is going on midnight and I still can't get to sleep because I'm remembering what a good, decent man Jim was. What gets me is that he called me last Tuesday afternoon and I can still here his voice letting me know that he wanted to get together with me at Trinity and he was looking forward to the visit. I got the message and grinned when I heard him give his usual greeting to me which was always, "Hey Chuck, this is Jim". I thought I would give him a call Wednesday morning and let him know when I would be there. I never got to make the call. I remember the pain, the disbelief, the empty feeling in my stomach all those years ago when I lost some good friends and that pain, disbelief and empty feeling returned with a vengeance. This could not be happening. But, it was. I will only talk about the Jim I knew. I can remember the first time I met him and shook his hand. His head went up and down faster than his handshake and my eyeballs caged just watching him. I always loved to give him a hard time about that and he would just grin. He was passionate about doing the right thing for pilots. He was respected by all for his honesty and professionalism. Jim was a stickler for details and making sure that I knew when I was going down the wrong path. There were some times when he and I got into some pretty heated arguments but that never, ever, affected our friendship. He was the best of friends. I miss him a lot already and it hasn't even been a week. I had the pleasure of going to his new house this last May for supper. Diane met us at the door and what a wonderful woman. The house was lighted just right and the table was set and all was in order. Jim could hardly wait for me to get the tour of the house over with so I could go see his, "shop" in the garage which was far from a shop. I laughed as did he when he gave the tour. Jim was a blessed man. This was their retirement home and I remember the three of us talking around the dinner table that night about how Ann and I needed to come out and stay down in the "shop" and have a good visit when we were all retired. It would have been good. It was such a good time that night. I'll always remember that evening. To the end, Jim was helping people. Make no mistake that he was a guardian angel to some of those folks on the helicopter that day. That is the way he should be remembered; helping others to the end. Jim Ramage. A patriot, a husband to Diane for over 40 years, a father, a provider for his family and a good friend to all of us. Remember his family in your prayers. He is missed. So long Jim.

 

 

Read this and find out if you really want to be a WILDLAND FIREFIGHTER!

Here’s one way to find out whether you qualify for work as a wildland firefighter. Stuff what you think you need for a week into a backpack, making sure it weighs at least 50 pounds. If you don’t need to carry that much food, add rocks to you pack till it weighs at least that much.

 

Start hiking cross country, and make sure you’re going at a good clip for at least 10 hours per day on steep slopes – and make sure you’re awake for at least 20 hours per day. If you see big movable stuff, such as rocks and logs, pick them up and move them. The bigger they are and the farther and faster you move them, the more it counts. Fall down al lot, and bang yourself up on rocks and roots as often as possible.

 

Practice sleeping while standing up. This is critical. Practice it enough to where you sort of get to like it.

 

Try to attract as many mosquitoes and yellowjackets and bees and flies and snakes as possible, and get bit by as many as you can in as many places as possible. Get as wet and muddy as possible and get as hot and dusty and generally filthy as you possibly can. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T BATHE.

 

Keep this up for a week. If you’re still alive, and if you think you’re having a good time, you may just make it as a wildland firefighter. If you’re genuinely having the time of your life and you want more of this, someone may want to hire you.

 

©1997 Kelly Anderson/Wildland Firefighter Magazine

 

Did I leave anything out?

Kurt Kamm

One Foot In The Black

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Desperation in Central CA

 

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Hey USWFA Members- Did you know that the firefighter badge (and the USWFFA badge) is the Maltese Cross? Want some useless information about its history? Read on!

History of the Maltese Cross

The Badge of a Firefighter is the Maltese Cross. The Maltese Cross is a symbol of protection and a badge of honor. Its story is hundreds of years old. 

When a courageous band of crusaders known as The Knights of St. John fought the Saracens for possession of the holy land, they encountered a new weapon unknown to European warriors. It was a simple, but horrible device of war. It brought excruciating pain and agonizing death upon the brave fighters for the cross. 

As the crusaders advanced on the walls of the city, they were struck by glass bombs containing naphtha. When they became saturated with the highly flammable liquid, the Saracens would hurl a flaming torch into their midst. Hundreds of the knights were burned alive; others risked their lives to save their brothers-in-arms from dying painful, fiery deaths.

Thus, these men became our first Fire Fighters and the first of a long list of courageous men. Their heroic efforts were recognized by fellow crusaders who awarded each hero a badge of honor - a cross similar to the one fire fighters wear today. Since the Knights of St. John lived for close to four centuries on a little island in the Mediterranean Sea named Malta, the cross came to be known as the Maltese Cross.

The Maltese Cross is our symbol of protection. It means that the Fire Fighter who wears this cross is willing to lay down his life for you just as the crusaders sacrificed their lives for their fellow man so many years ago. The Maltese Cross is a Fire Fighter's badge of honor, signifying that he works in courage - a ladder's rung away from death. 

 

Kurt Kamm

http://www.kurtkamm.com

 

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FIRESETTERS – WHO ARE THEY? WHY?

 

In connection with research I have been doing for my new novel on arson, I thought I would share with the website members some information about ARSONIST. The moderators of USWFA have been kind enough to encourage me to do this.

 

The motivations for arson are subtle and complex, but I hope to give some general information which will help the reader understand why arson occurs. Arson can be a crime which has terrible unintended consequences. In 2007, in Malibu, teenagers were partying in a cave. They had a fire which, it is alleged, they carelessly kicked out into the brush. This occurred during a Red Flag Warning which made the fire illegal. The result was a blaze which burned for three days, destroyed 52 homes at a cost of over $400 million. Fortunately, no lives were lost. Did these kids intend to cause that damage? Did they intend to destroy 52 homes? Probably not, but that was the consequence of an arson fire.

Most arson investigators will tell you that the fire setter (that's what they're called) doesn't intend widespread destruction. If not, why does he start fires? By the way, arson is predominately a male activity, there aren't a lot of female arsonists.

First, lets eliminate some obvious situations.  Revenge - a guy's girlfriend breaks up with him. He gets angry and sets her apartment on fire. That's revenge. He may not be a fire nut, he just wants to pay her back. Fraud - someone is behind on his car payments. He torches his car and tries to collect the insurance. And, maybe he even claims his $3,000 camera was in the car when it burned.  Expand this concept and you have someone burning down an entire building to collect the insurance on a failing business. Hate Crime - someone sets fire to a church or Synagogue. In these cases the reason for the fire is relatively easy to understand. The use of fire is the means to an end.

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Part II

Now  consider the more complex cases where the fire itself is the objective. What kind of a person sets fire to the side of a mountain, or a forest, or a grassland? What kind of person torches an empty building?  What does he get out of it? Why does he do it?

Fire setters are classified in categories, and these names will tell you a lot about the type of person involved in arson:

CURIOSITY - generally young children, experimenting. DELINQUENT - adolescents engaged in a possibly wide range of activities leading to criminal conduct.

THRILL SEEKER - individuals seeking excitement and risk.

EMOTIONALLY DISORDERED- individuals who are emotionally unbalanced and find setting a fire has a calming influence. THOUGHT DISORDERED - individuals afflicted with a range of illnesses from learning disabilities to full blown schizophrenic behavior.

Added to these general categories the overtones of sexual deviation; drug abuse; physical and mental abuse or neglect, and the reasons a person becomes a fire setter are very complex. For many of these individuals, starting a fire gives them an expression of rage, a sense of accomplishment, or a sense of control over a single event in a life in which they have no control.  Conflict in the home and poor role models also play a role.

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Part III

 

Ninety percent of fire setters are male. They are preoccupied with fire. They get an emotional release  from starting fires. There may be sexual overtones. Some researchers claim fire setters are sexually repressed males who masturbate at the fires they set. Whether this is a fact or not, many fire setters are social outcasts and tend to have unsuccessful relationships with women. Fire gives them an excitement they cannot find elsewhere. Finally, for many, fire setting satisfies their need to be recognized and establishes their sense of self worth.

 

For others, setting fires is an act of aggression. It allows them to express anger and frustration which they are unable to do in their daily  social interaction. Many have repressed rage for authority  figures. Some get the satisfaction of "getting away with a crime."

 

Often the preoccupation with fire starts in childhood. A child who is "curious" about fire can grow into an anti social and aggressive adolescent. A dysfunctional or violent family environment is often a contributing factor. Delinquent fire setters are often bored, and find fire setting provides them with the excitement and stimulation they crave. On the path from youthful misconduct to adult personality disorders, a large percentage of fire setters  indulge in alcohol and drug abuse. While adolescent fire setters often engage in fire activity with peer groups, by adulthood, most arsonists are setting fires alone.

 

Many arsonists give no thought to getting caught. Check out the story of Jim Hough, a serial arsonist who was under surveillance by a CalFire arson team. Hough made a U turn, almost collided with a surveillance team parked by the side of the road, and started a fire just down the road!

 

Serial arsonists often admit their fires are set in haste, without any sense of planning or organization. Targets are selected at random. Their fires are often set in rapid succession, preceded by a mounting tension or some sort of precipitating event bringing on stress. Pyromaniacs often report the fire setting was not their own, but that they felt controlled by an external source. Most arsonists are unable to explain their crimes. When Jim Hough was questioned after his arrest, he was asked if he got an adrenalin rush. His response was, "You do a little bit, watching the flames, but then you think: What the **** did I do that for?"

 

Copyright 2008 – Kurt Kamm 

 

http://www.kurtkamm.com

kurt@OneFootInTheBlack.com

 

(By the way, if any of the non firefighter readers don’t know what “one foot in the black” means, let me know!)