Fall 2020 ▲ Vol. 9 Issue 3 ▲ Produced and distributed quarterly by the Wildland Fire Lessons Learned Center

Where Do We Go From Here?

By Bre Orcasitas

020. What a doozie, huh?

What started out in the beginning as a global pandemic 2 actually turned into something much more than that. Somewhere along the way the year 2020 turned into its own thing. A span of time that feels akin to spending 12 rounds in the ring with Muhammad Ali all while having your hands tied behind your back. Yes, the year 2020 seems to “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.”

Highlighting the universal hardships of 2020 is important because it added overarching complexities and layers of stress for all of us while we were just trying to do our jobs, which was challenging in and of itself due to the pandemic.

What made it challenging? Let’s take a brief look in the rearview mirror.

For many of our folks “fire season” 2020 began way back in the winter, with a constant cycle of firefighters headed to the Southern Hemisphere to work in Australia. (Doesn’t that seem like a million years ago?) Once the pandemic gripped our nation, trainings were canceled, work capacity tests were waived, technology swooped into every fire program, crews desperately attempted to train their folks from a distance while still ensuring that they were physically prepared to fight fire. A firefighter on the 2020 Williams Fork Fire in Colorado. Photo by Kari Greer. There was also a mad scramble to find and purchase PPE.

Telework was now the rule rather than the exception, protocols were developed then altered and tweaked seemingly every Also in this Issue other day at every level of the organization as people started to figure out what works and what doesn’t; all before we even Ground Truths: Smug and Satisfied….Page 2 made it to June. One of Our Own: Logistics Section Chief Stu Rodeffer….Page 5

[Continued on Page 3] ‘The Quicksand of Complacency’ by Peter M. Leschak….Page 10

Your Feedback….Page 12 akin to spending 12 rounds in the ring with Muhammad Ali all

Ground By Travis Dotson Fire Management Specialist Wildland Fire Lessons Learned Center Truths [email protected]

Smug and Satisfied

Smug (adjective): Having or showing an excessive pride in What does this word conjure up for you? The aftermath of oneself or one’s achievements. a breakfast MRE? Your last performance eval? How you feel about your current level of physical fitness or the state What does this brief descriptor make you think of? The of the Union? Likely not. politician you despise? The neighbor’s dog after a visit to your lawn? Your last hunting photo? As a descriptor of us fire junkies, the word “satisfied” is missing an “un” (just like the word “couth”). We want Pride is good. We all need to be proud of the work we do more. More resources, more support, more influence. and most of us should be proud of the work we do. (A More challenges, more insight, more growth. More, more, handful of us need to strive for work worthy of pride, but I more. Like most things, more is good . . . in moderation. In don’t think those folks are reading this.) Pride is not bad— this context, as it relates to individual and collective excessive pride is. performance, satisfied is not an attitude we embrace. Hmmm, where is that sneaky line demarcating And here we are, the point where I make my point. “excessive”? Maybe it’s one of those “you know it when you see it” type deals. The problem is, you are not likely to Don’t be smug. Don’t be satisfied. see it in yourself. Others will notice Be grateful. Be humble. Get long before you do. Do you have the better. capacity to pick up on the clues I say all of this standing in the rubble indicating you have crossed the We are not “a special breed” invisible line? Check yourself against of 2020. We have done hard things or uniquely tough or deserving the ideal. of anything extra—especially not a cape. Falling down the What is the “ideal”? together. We should be proud—but not hero hole will halt your “Quiet professional” is a term that smug or satisfied. growth. We are humans doing gets used in our business. I have hard things together. Together

literally heard people loudly is where the power comes

proclaim to be a “quiet from—mission first.

professional”. That is funny. And sad. Just as we must be vigilant at the individual level, we must I think a true quiet professional is bad ass. Maybe also be weary of the smug and satisfied trap at the someday I’ll shut up and be good at something. (#goals) organizational level. Some of us feign individual humility while flaunting shameless bravado in our group identity. So, can one operate as a quiet professional AND be smug? Organizational contentment and excessive pride can just as Well, part of what makes a true quiet professional is easily poison a team of any size at any level. Do not contribute humility. Humility and excessive pride cannot occupy the to this. same space. Hence, the answer is NO, one cannot be smug and bad ass. On the “Are You a Quiet Professional?” quiz I say all of this standing in the rubble of 2020. We have (which exists only in your heart) smugness is an auto-fail. done hard things together. We should be proud—but not smug or satisfied. As we reflect on this past year, we must It’s in our doctrine: accept that the next roll is right around the corner. Let’s “Be Humble – Always allow for the possibility of orient ourselves for growth. improvement.” – Learning in The Wildland Fire Service. “To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to Moving on to our next word. restore it, and to render it more fit for its prime function Satisfied (adjective): Contented; pleased. of looking forward.” – Margaret Fairless Barber

Eyes Forward, Toolswingers. 2

[Continued from Page 1]

Needless to say, folks were already feeling fatigued as the western fire season was just starting to pick up steam.

Once we actually got into the height of fire season it was all about “Module as One”, staying away from ICP, learning that the COVID protocols for every county/state health department are different and adjusting accordingly, using COVID screening questions and thermometers and pulse- oximeters with regularity, navigating challenges regarding pay when firefighters ended up in quarantine or isolation, finding ways to maintain some semblance of hygiene in the field, figuring out remote Check-in and Demob as well as dealing with virtual CTRs and learning what a FOB (Forward Operating Base) is and is not.

Beyond new implementations, this year also left us with heavy hearts, as the fire community was hit especially hard by the loss of nine of our aviators in the line of duty among others in the greater fire community. There were entrapments and shelter deployments, militia-guarded fires, several COVID Mitigations – Incident personnel wear protective face masks and adhere to social distancing on the 2020 Williams Fork Fire in Colorado. Photo by Kari Greer. communities were lost, and we had our formal introduction to the first “Gigafire.” What else? Let’s see, lightning struck a fence and ended up burning down a fire camp and the bubonic plague even managed to make a guest appearance in Colorado. Seriously. 2020 is in a league all its own. Much has been thrown our way, and much has been endured.

Distillation

Distilling things down, the pandemic provided a general disheveling of our It is entirely possible to be an expert in standard operating procedures. It hasn’t been all good and it hasn’t been all bad. adaptability while also being completely But good or bad, some of our entrenched habits surfaced due to the circumstances we found ourselves in. They are now worth taking a harder look at. averse to change. This is the fire So let’s dive in, shall we? community in a nutshell.

We are Built to Organize Chaos

Our workforce thrives in dynamic and ever-evolving work environments, mainly because our work environment is dynamic and ever evolving. Luckily, utilizing the ICS system is second nature and we collectively excel when given the direction to “just make it work.” Essentially, we had solid experience in dealing with mayhem prior to the pandemic coming along. Aren’t we so lucky?

However, even with a solid starting point, times were tough. Something that really ate our lunch was that we couldn’t rely on all our tried and true SOPs. We quickly realized that much of the playbook we have turned to for so long had become obsolete overnight.

Good thing we are built to organize chaos! I mean, the fire community is nothing if not adaptive, right? Right. We can shift plans and innovate our way out of just about any sticky situation. But here’s the funny thing about being adaptive. It is entirely possible to be an expert in adaptability while also being completely averse to change. This is the fire community in a nutshell.

We’ve always done it this way. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. This is our tradition!

In this regard, we are truly at odds with ourselves. Yes, we are adaptive and will flex our tactics in a millisecond to make it work when we are in the midst of an escalating incident. But just as soon as the sense of urgency is removed, we go from being Gumby to the Tin Man in two seconds flat. What’s our deal?

Of course, as with all things, there’s more to it than that. So, let’s explore a little.

We have an incredible workforce with such a deep operational knowledge and understanding that most of our problems have essentially already been solved by somebody, somewhere, at some level of the fire organization. The hinderance to our collective advancement isn’t problem solving or absence of vision, it’s a lack of implementation. In some industries a solution to a problem is revolutionary and taken to the top of the chain at lightning speed. In our industry it’s a little more like: “Yep, add your solution to that mountain of solutions over there, we’ll get to it at some point.”

Let’s take technology for example. The fire world has slowly folded digital technology into its operations over the past couple of decades. Then this year we moved into it with warp speed. Do you think that there haven’t been countless folks urging the progression of this technology into fire operations?

[Continued on Page 4] Precautionary mask and gloves are worn on the 2020 North 3 Complex Fire in California. Photo by Kari Greer.

[Continued from Page 3] Remote Check-in and Demob on fires, IMT members working remotely . . . these ideas and concepts are not new—but our willingness to accept them? That is new. Why? The answer

seems to be, because we had no other choice.

Tradition Impedes Innovation The fire community is steeped in its traditions. Some have served us very well and will continue to do so for as long as humans engage with wildfire. Others are old hat and are clung to because it is familiar and comfortable—whether or not they make any good sense. Want some examples? Dirty yellows, staying quiet when you’re injured or sick, not labeling fuel canisters because your crew doesn’t do it that way, etc.

Have you ever been the person in your crew or organization who dared to offer up a new idea or concept only to have it immediately dismissed for the sheer fact that it bucked tradition?

This is again where we are at odds with ourselves. There’s a portion of the fire community that consistently pushes for change and innovation, while another portion clings to tradition and familiarity. Just as with any community, it takes all kinds to make things work. We need the traditionalists as much as we need the visionaries. But how do we weed out the “old hat” traditions from the worthwhile traditions in order to keep in step with the times? How can we all evolve to be a hybrid of visionary and traditionalist?

Take It with You When You Go With the insanity that accompanied 2020 was also an amazing opportunity to compare and Air resources also follow COVID mitigations contrast our original SOPs with something different. There have been simple, yet in 2020. Photo by Kari Greer. revolutionary takeaways from this season; like say, making “the crud” nearly extinct! Does the crud still exist? Of course, it does. But the frequency and scale at which people got sick this season seemed to be drastically lower. One would assume that this had everything to do with our newfound focus on the health and hygiene of our people and an active mission not to spread illness.

Before this year the general demeanor regarding the crud was: “Gibbons has the crud. It’s only a matter of time before we all get it. Oh well, what ya gonna do.” And no one seemed to give it a second thought. Gaining control over the crud this year is not a small thing. It was a small tweak to long-standing practices which ended up providing huge benefit to firefighters far and wide. And it all started with a shift in our collective mindset. Suddenly, preventative measures were put into place (as well as they could be out in the field) to keep our workforce healthy. It worked because everybody was on board.

Dampening down “the crud” was but one of many unintended outcomes

from this year. Some fall on the positive side, some on the negative, and So, the ultimate question for us others were a bit of both.

The Good and the Bad in the collective fire organization is: The catapult into technology was one that resulted in both positive and What do we want to take with us moving negative results. The rapid advancement in comprehension across many forward and what should we leave platforms (especially regarding video conferencing and file-sharing systems) behind? is certainly a positive. But an absolute reliance on virtual Check-

in/Demob/Time submission proved problematic for folks who did not have a capable device, as well as for people in areas without cell coverage/Wi-Fi.

Another factor to the overall wellness piece had to do with smaller fire camps and line spiking. The latter being a formerly utilized function which fell out of use more and more over the last decade or so. Obviously, smaller camps or spiking out reduces the exposure to germs outside of each crew’s “Module as One”, but it also provides better rest and recovery with less camp noise, diesel fumes, and travel time to and from the fire. Of course, this was all well and good for the firefighters, but it surely placed a significant strain on logistics.

Shifting gears a little, fatigue management is a consistent thorn in the side of every fire program and always has been. But with a new mindset heading into this year came a desire for some fire program managers to take proactive steps for their folks by putting protocols in place with the hope of providing relief before burnout ensued.

Some implementations will have long-lasting negative effects, such as the environmental impact left in the wake of individually packaged and/or single-use everything along with items triple-wrapped in plastic.

So, the ultimate question for us in the collective fire organization is: What do we want to take with us moving forward and what should we leave behind?

As a community, are we able to embrace being adaptive while also welcoming change? Can we support the innovative ideas brought forward by our workforce rather than waiting for a moment of desperation before we’ll try something new? If nothing else, 2020 has shown us that whether we like it or not, “normal” can be wiped away in an instant. On the upside, the fire community relies on learning from unintended outcomes and we’ve had plenty of those this year. Therefore, it might be worth grabbing a moment for reflection and asking ourselves: “Where do we go from here?” before attempting to revert back to the way things were.

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One of Our Own

Stu Rodeffer

‘And Then What?’

And Other Pearls of Wisdom from this Logistics Section Chief

By Alex Viktora and Paul Keller

eet Stu Rodeffer.

A noteworthy journey led this man to his current post, the Logistics M Section Chief on the Portland National Incident Management Logistics Section Chief Stu Rodeffer (second from right in Organization (NIMO) Team. Stu acknowledges that his background is, indeed, back row) on the Great Basin Team that went to Victoria, “eclectic”. Australia in 2020 to support the Orbost Bushfire’s Incident He started his professional career in the U.S. Marines. Unfortunately, he injured his Control Centre. left knee and left hip which would eventually lead to his medical discharge from the Marines. Not to worry, prior to his discharge, resilient Stu became a military police officer at California’s Camp Pendleton. During this assignment, Stu was working that night in January 1993 when the Santa Margarita Flood swept across and inundated Camp Pendleton.

“I spent a large amount of time in those flood waters working with the Camp Pendleton Fire Department doing swift water rescues and things of that nature,” Stu points out. This experience convinced him to join this fire department, becoming an EMT and, later, a Paramedic.

Next, Stu’s career path took him to Tucson, Arizona, where he worked two years for two local fire departments, then joined the larger Northwest Fire District there.

In January 2011, Stu was the first Chief Officer to arrive on the scene of the tragic shooting of U.S. Representative Gabrielle Giffords as she spoke at a constituent meeting in a supermarket parking lot in Tucson. Giffords was shot in the head and survived. Six others were killed, including nine-year-old Christina-Taylor Green. Eighteen other people were shot and survived.

“I was assigned as the Medical Group Supervisor, coordinating triage, treatment, and transport of the injured for the shooting of the 19 folks, and sadly, the six fatalities,” Stu informs.

Stu eventually worked his way up to be the Foreman of the Northwest Fire District’s Type 2 Initial Attack Crew. Stu also helped support this crew to transition into the fully-certified (non-federal and non-state) Ironwood Interagency Hotshot Crew in 2008. “Sadly,” says Stu, “after the Yarnell Hill tragedy, the fire district decided that a hotshot crew was a liability. In November of 2013 they were disbanded.”

Back in 2005, Stu realized that his knees and his weight weren’t going to let him continue to undergo the operational rigors of a wildland fire crew. No problem. Stu started going out on Incident Management Teams in Logistics.

In 2013, Stu was assigned to be the Deputy Incident Commander for the Granite Mountain Memorial Team. “We supported the City of Prescott. All the way through the memorials I U.S. Marine Military Police Officer Stu Rodeffer filled that role as the Deputy IC, certainly not a traditional Logistics role, it was more ‘All- (on left) on duty at Camp Pendleton. Hazard’.” 5

After 18 years, Stu retired as a Battalion Chief Paramedic with the

I realized that if I couldn’t be the person on Northwest Fire District. During his service he completed his Bachelor’s the frontline fighting the fire, how could I best degree in Occupational Safety and Health with a Fire Service concentration. Next, he worked for the State of Arizona for 15 months support that effort? as Safety Officer for the Arizona Department of Forestry and Fire

Management.

“In November of 2018, I went to Saipan as part of the All-Hazard Support Team there from the State of Arizona. We spent 16 days supporting post-Super Typhoon Yutu that had devastated Saipan and the Northern Mariana Islands.”

Next Stop: Stu applied for the NIMO Logistics Section Chief position and, of course, got it.

Alex: What prompted you to pursue a career in Logistics?

Stu: When I was the Foreman on Northwest Fire’s Type 2 IA Crew, it became apparent that due to my preexisting knee/hip injuries, as well as my weight, I couldn’t physically keep up with my crew. I was never going to be the weakest link. I knew it was time for me to stand back.

My thought was how do I stay engaged? I realized that wildland fire parallels the military in so many facets. If you think about it, there isn’t a ton of difference between the two. We’re taking about taking terrain and holding it. We’re talking about the right place to engage.

In wildland fire we have ground troops, we have heavy equipment support—engines, dozers, etcetera. We have an air force; we even have paratroopers! We take and hold ground, go direct, we flank, and we fall back to indirect just like combat. The difference is the other combatant is fire. I understood the parallels. It was familiar and I wanted to remain a part of that.

And frankly, I don’t have the discipline and attention to detail that’s required of a Plans Chief or a Finance Chief. But what I did understand was what it was like to be on the side of a hill as a young Marine, and as a hand crew member, as well as a member of an engine module, because we also did engines at Northwest. I went out a lot as an Engine Boss.

For me there was always that piece of: “How could we do that better?” And I realized that if I couldn’t be the person on the frontline fighting the fire, how could I best support that effort?

It became the identification that without logistics, it’s only a dream. Logistics is the hub of this simple yet extremely important phrase I use which is: “And Then What?” We’re going to spike out. Logistics then answers the question of “And Then What?” How are we going to set up a coffee kit? How are we going to get them food? How are we going to support their medical needs?

I realize that while it’s certainly not sexy and it’s certainly not the stuff that people Stu (on right) with Crew Medic Mark Graves in 2004 during are holding those “Thank You Firefighters” signs for, Logistics really and truly can be IA support on lightning strikes on the Modoc National an important facet of helping people that are helping others. And that to me was Forest. the reason that I kind of gravitated toward Logistics.

Alex: Can you explain why “And Then What?” is such a significant guiding principle for you?

Stu: Absolutely. The roots of that phrase actually came from paramedicine. I was a Paramedic for 21 years. It dawned on me that we get into the realm of strategy and tactics sometimes, and we go through our P.A.C.E. (Primary, Alternate, Contingency, Emergency) models and all of the things that we’ve really become very good at in Operations.

And in development of that P.A.C.E. model, going all the way back to paramedicine and transposing through the fire service into incident management, came the realization of when you come up with an answer to a problem, the very next question has to be: “And Then What?”

We’re going to burn off from this place in Division Alpha, “And Then What?” If

you ask yourself that internal, small, finite question—the burn holds and we go Just that very simplistic question of “And Then home. Or, the burn doesn’t hold. Now we have to bring in more personnel. Or, What?” for any course of action sometimes can the burn doesn’t take, it doesn’t work . . .

force us to stop and realize that I didn’t think much Once again, just that very simplistic question of “And Then What?” for any past my initial action. course of action sometimes can force us to stop and realize that I didn’t think

much past my initial action.

I’m certainly not smart enough to say that this is a huge “Ah-Ha” moment for me. It was just something that made sense to me that if you ask that internally and you ask it of others when they have a plan, it transposes into Logistics.

Alex: What’s the most dangerous decision a Logistics Chief makes?

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Stu: I don’t know that there is one specific thing that would be the most dangerous. I would submit to you that as a Logs Chief every decision has a consequence. But always, the consequences of the decisions that are made by Unit Leaders or by myself from a Logistics perspective ultimately effects the newest, weakest crew member of a brand-new crew on their very first fire.

The decisions that I make affect the very boots on the ground.

Therefore, the most dangerous thing in Logistics is indecision, the inability to choose the best option of all the bad options. Because there are times that you don’t have certain things, but you have people on the ground who have showed up on IAs. And in today’s environment, it’s not uncommon for something to go from Type 4/5 to Type 1 in a couple hours.

Foreman Stu (center-left on one knee) with his Northwest Fire District’s Type 2 Initial You end up with 400 people on the ground. The system Attack Crew at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon in 2003. doesn’t work that fast all the time, but everyone still must be fed and watered. So I/we make decisions sometimes to do things, like we’re going to get water from this vendor and we’re going to go to Walmart. We’re going to use a purchase card.

Of course, some of those things are in the floating “gray areas” we have in our system. But the reality is we must support the boots on the ground. And there are times when the system was not designed for the rapid nature that we encounter.

Therefore, I think the single-most dangerous thing for a Logistics Chief is indecision, the inability to make the uncomfortable decision with limited information, probably very similar to Ops and Plans and Finance and Safety and ICs. Right?

Alex: If you could make one change in our Ops Chiefs’ brains what would it be?

Stu: Bring Logistics in early. What do I mean by that? Don’t sit down and visit with me at the pre-strat meeting. I’m speaking from my perspectives. I don’t want to speak for all Logs Chiefs. But in the world according to Stu, that conversation starts early.

If I could plant one thing into every Ops Chief’s brain it would be to ask the

Logistics Chiefs “What is the logistical lag time?” Ask this early to ensure that we have a realistic understanding of timetables and what we can support. If we ask I think the single-most dangerous thing that question early, then I think it would really put us in a great position to be for a Logistics Chief is indecision, the inability able to speak to what “Success” looks like. to make the uncomfortable decision with

limited information. Alex: Is there a similar message you might convey to our up-and-coming Type 5

ICs? Even our Squad Leaders? What’s a Logistics-informed perspective you might instill in that segment of our audience?

Stu: Understand that Logistics is here to serve you and the system is fairly robust. But the problem is, particularly in a Type 5 to Type 3 incident, even though everything is happening so fast, you still need to be able to communicate what/where you’re going to be in four hours. So it’s that vision of not what it’s going to look like at noon today. Rather, what’s it going to look like when we’re trying to feed people at 1800? Or, what’s it going to look like in the morning if it burns throughout the night?

If we consider that Logistics has a zero-deficiency baseline: We get it right or we don’t. Taking that as the initial conversation puts a lot of pressure on Operations because what we need mostly from that Type 5 IC all the way up to that Type 1 Ops Chief is: We need information.

We need you to take time to step away from the chaos and engage me and say this is what’s happening, this is where we’re going, this is where I think we’re going to be in four or five hours. If you look at the traditional model, we’ve heard it tossed around a lot, the “24”, “48”, “72”.

In Logistics, I add an additional page for “96” because of logistical lag times, because of the things that need to go on. So my goal is to try and look past their “72-hour” so that by the time it becomes a 72-hour discussion or “24” or “48”—we’ve been ready for it for four days to meet the support need. That’s because we have to factor in logistical lag time from the cache system or a Buying Team just based on availability, personalities—a lot of different things. There’s no finger pointing. Every system is only as good as the humans who are communicating in it.

The most successful thing a Logs Chief can do is surround yourself with really

The most successful thing a Logs Chief can do smart Unit Leaders who challenge you and disagree with you. You need to is surround yourself with really smart listen to them.

Unit Leaders who challenge you and disagree Do not form a culture to agree with you and think you’re the greatest person with you. You need to listen to them. on the planet. Get Unit Leaders who know their business and challenge you.

Finding the people that have a different view that bring forth tough feedback,

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tough ideas. That’s the way to achieve success.

So, to tie back into that Type 5 IC, having those uncomfortable conversations of: “Look, we understand you’re running this off a pizza box on the hood of your truck. And we know that you’re trying to figure out what it’s going to look like in 10 minutes. Yes, I/we are going to be a distraction for a minute. But tell us exactly what you think and we’ll give you honest feedback as to what we can do. It may not be what you want to hear. But it may be what you need to hear to adjust your planning moving forward.”

Because, believe it or not, Logistics has a huge impact on reaching strategies and objectives—not just tactics.

Alex: What’s your view regarding some of these changes, including the proliferation of spiking out, that the Operations world just loves from Battalion Chief Stu (center) on his last structure fire with the 2020?

Northwest Fire District in 2018. Stu: Yes, absolutely. There are some vastly different opinions out there among Logistics and Operations folks. As well as Incident Management Teams, right? Because we’re all human.

This all started with the impetus of the discussion of “distributive operations”. In the truest military concept of having a base of operations that we would distribute chow, and we would distribute material at points where folks are going to be operating. And, we’re learning, right? The military has been doing it for 200-plus years, and they don’t have it perfected. We’re therefore not going to get it right in just nine months.

The reality is that in 2020 our first swing at our “distributive operation” turned into something that, I have to admit, if I was on a crew, man, I’d love it, too. And forgive my terminology, but I’m going to be honest. I have said this publicly, so I will own it: Who wouldn’t like camping with room service?

Of course, I know not every fire was that way, not every crew was treated that way. But the overall concept is they get tremendous amounts of sleep now because they’re not driving back to a large base camp that has all the cursory noise and all the traps of a large base, right?

So they work, then they come back to an area in which they control the lighting. An area in Dry Ice in Cooler Inside Van which they eat their chow and bed down. And they get quality rest because it’s fairly remote. Leads to Carbon Dioxide Poisoning I mean, it’s all the things that we want. Hell, I want it, man. And I applaud it and I think it’s a for Driver and Passenger great thing. This September a unique batch of lessons on risk But here’s where “Risk” raises its ugly head. We’ve taken the risk of COVID and we’ve taken surrounding Logistics and COVID-19 mitigations the driving risk away from the crews. Operations is rested and safe and healthy. Nobody’s a were shared in the Pine Gulch Fire Dry Ice bigger fan of that than I am. But now we’ve also taken that risk of them driving back to camp Outgassing Rapid Lesson Sharing (RLS) report. As and getting a little less sleep and we’ve put it onto a 65-year-old AD driver in a Penske rental more crews spiked out on this fire, the need for more logistical support also emerged. In truck at 3 in the morning. Or at 10 in the evening as we deliver those products out there. [See transporting food in a van to the firefighters, dry sidebar on right to learn about a serious accident that occurred in 2020 to a driver and ice was used to keep this food at the appropriate passenger delivering food in a van to firefighters.] temperature. However, as this dry ice “melted,” a

So part of our discussion with Operations and other Logs folks across the country has been: dangerous situation was created inside the “Look, this is great, but it’s not sustainable.” vehicle. To read more about this incident and learn its significant lessons:

Logistics has been impacted this year greater than ever. And it’s not because we’re serving https://www.wildfirelessons.net/viewdocument people in the field. That part we’ve always done to some extent. But now we’re adding COVID /pine-gulch-fire-dry-ice-outgassing mitigation—we’re putting up sneeze shields, we’re getting additional supplies, we’re having to make sure that things are cleaned a certain way, that social distancing exists, as well as these multiple contract modifications for showers and caterers that need to be enforced and verified. And we’re decontaminating everything on a non-stop basis. The regular supply chain is taxed because hiring folks has been difficult during this COVID time. Our AD drivers are being taxed.

Sure, some of these things are great and we’re going to keep them. Not for a second do I think we’ll go back to major bases or major spike camps with hundreds of people. I think those will be slowly but surely relegated to the annals of history as we move forward because this is

now an effective way to do things.

I would love us to toss out two concepts. The use If you consider Logistics, Plans, and Finance, a good majority of these folks are of the term “the new normal” and the concept of AD. They are in the “higher-risk” COVID group. Yet we have put an added work “when things get back to normal”. burden on Logistics this year, beyond what these folks traditionally did. And

some folks retired. And now some folks are just like: “I don't want to do this

anymore.”

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Therefore, we have a difficult enough time keeping up our staffing in Logistics, because again, it’s not sexy. Logistics knows two things: we hear complaints or we Where are the young up-and-coming folks hear silence. There’s nobody patting us on the back. There's nobody thanking us to run Logistics and to run Plans into the future? for our jobs. It’s either all effed-up or nobody’s saying anything. And when people What are agencies doing to make it attractive are quiet, that’s a home run for us. and lucrative?

Alex: Is there anything from 2020 that was adopted that you would like to see us discontinue?

Stu: I would love us to toss out two concepts, they're synonymous: The use of the term “the new normal” and the concept of “when things get back to normal”. In my opinion, this is normal. Quit talking about the “new normal”. There’s nothing new about this. It’s just normal.

And if that’s wearing a mask and it’s hand sanitizer, it’s social distancing, putting all these cleaning things in place, dispersing troops in the field—that’s all just normal. COVID is just another risk out there that we’re adjusting for.

Consequently, let’s quit talking about it in terms of this “new normal” and when things “go back to normal”. Let’s accept where we are and let’s thrive and be successful in it. Let’s not wring our hands about “it’s unpredictable” and “it’s new” and “I want things the way they were.”

All those are valid feelings. But if I had to toss out something, that’s what it would be.

Alex: What else do we need to be doing, organizationally, in anticipation of the next curveball?

Stu: Where are the young up-and-coming folks to run Logistics and to run Plans into the future? What are agencies doing to make it attractive and lucrative? Not necessarily in a fiscal sense, but making it understood that you can impact an operation. All the great things that have occurred on the ground wouldn't have occurred without pump kits and hose and all that was delivered by Logistics.

My point here is, in the world according to Stu, whether it’s an Initial Attack or a Type I incident, the way we fight the fire isn’t really that much different. If you talk about Type I complexity, the things the crews are doing on the ground are the same things they do on an IA. The difference is support. Dealing with the agency administers and those things. And then ensuring the necessary support of these major operations to be able to support them to do what they always do, whether it’s IA or a campaign fire.

The difference in complexity certainly could be the size of the fire and those things. But for the majority of the operators, they fight fire the same way. The difference is what it takes to support. And I think somewhere along the line, we must figure out how to get more folks who are going to support Logistics.

We need to get more bosses willing to free folks up to go into those support roles to go out on these assignments and work Task Books. Because, eventually, if we don’t do this, we will be left with gaps when we’re trying to support the most valuable resource we have.

Once again, like I said at the beginning of this interview, everything I do is Stu (on left) in 2004 when he was Foreman of the Northwest based on the newest, weakest crew member on the brand-new crew on their Fire District’s Type 2 IA Crew, discussing plans in Division A of very first fire. If I meet that person’s needs, then—by definition—I meet the Nuttall Fire with John Bristow, Lassen Interagency everybody else’s needs. Hotshot Superintendent. And so we have to take care of that person, we have to figure that out.

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By Peter M. Leschak

was certain Harry’s house was doomed. The attached garage was a seething glut of fire, two vehicles burning fiercely inside. Vinyl

siding was melting off the second story of the residence, and from I fifty yards away on a 15-degree December evening I could feel the heat on my face.

As our first fire department engine pulled in, I hurried to Harry, who was standing forlornly in calf-deep snow, his arm in a sling after recent surgery. Bathed in flickering orange light he faced me and pleaded, “Please save my house.” It was one of those moments when it sucks to be a rural fire chief. “We’ll do our best, Harry,” I replied, unable to rise to a bravura fib like “We’ve got this! We’ll kick butt!”

But in fact, that’s what happened. In hindsight, four factors meshed to preserve the home: correct placement and use of an appropriate nozzle; a garage/house interface that met fire code; the timely delivery of water by truck (no fire hydrants in the woods); and a blessing of good luck—it wasn’t below zero, most of our people were available, the fire was detected early. Peter Leschak is a career wildland firefighter for the Minnesota After a two-hour engagement, not only was Harry’s house still Department of Natural Resources Division of Forestry. He entered standing, but he was able to spend the night. We received aid from the fire service in 1981 via a rural volunteer fire department where two other departments, one being a city “paid-on-call” outfit with he served as chief for 30 years. He spent three seasons with the more expertise, experience, and equipment. One of their captains U.S. Forest Service in Idaho as a helitack crew leader, and a total of 19 years in helicopter operations. responded to the scene with extra breathing air and arrived as the outcome of our effort became apparent. He studied the house and the For several years Peter was assigned as a DIVS with one of the smoldering black mass that had been the garage and two vehicles, Minnesota Incident Command System’s Type 2 IMTs. He’s worked a thousand incidents in 14 states and one Canadian province, then turned to me shaking his head: “I can’t believe you guys saved including tornado and hurricane recovery. the house.” For 25 years he’s been a fire instructor in both the wildland and “Yeah, I can’t either,” I replied. structure realms for the Minnesota DNR, U.S. Forest Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Great Lakes Harry was thrilled. I could’ve been boastful and cocky after all. Our Forest Fire Compact, and the Minnesota State College and crew, despite being mostly soaked in sub-freezing weather, was University System. joyful—almost giddy—at what they’d accomplished. It was an Peter moonlights as a freelance writer and is the author of 10 exceedingly dangerous moment. One of our people exclaimed, “That nonfiction books, including Ghosts of the Fireground. He’s was amazing! What a save! I can retire now.” produced more than 300 magazine and newspaper articles, including pieces in Harper’s, The New York Times, Outdoor Life, “No you can’t,” I said. “You haven’t saved a baby yet.” Backpacker, and dozens of others. He lives and works in Side Lake, “Oh, yeah. Good point.” We laughed with the camaraderie of the Minnesota. victorious, but I made a mental note to conduct an After Action Peter’s last article for Two More Chains “A Burning Mindful Review as soon as possible, to capture what we could do better and to Moment” appeared in the Summer 2018 Issue. emphasize where luck and not our tools and skill was decisive. Yes, I did crap on the parade. Success is heartening, but can also be a menacing liability. Success will hiss in your ear: “you’re good and you deserve to win; just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll always come out on top.” Until you don’t. The vilest adversary of any performance is complacency. A first responder can only relax when they are retired or dead, and sustaining that pitch of mindfulness is a hard road.

Don’t Enjoy Success Too Much Dr. Karl Weick, organizational performance guru, wrote, “When it comes to mindfulness, it’s good to feel bad, and bad to feel good.” In other words, skeptical pessimism will enhance the prospect of your survival and success, but don’t enjoy success too much.

Complacency is tenacious, and not confined to the fireground. A decade after we saved Harry’s house, in late afternoon this past September 14th, I checked into a motel in western Minnesota. The next morning I was slated to deliver an extended briefing to 29 municipal fire department personnel from across Minnesota who had volunteered themselves and their engines for dispatch to

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noteworthy wildfires in Oregon. I represented Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR) wildfire operations. My task was to offer insight into a response regime most of them had not experienced.

In my room, as I eased into a chair to review notes, I happened to glance out the second-story window—and froze. In the foreground an American flag fluttered on a tall pole. As the banner undulated in a southerly breeze, it covered and uncovered an orange-yellow solar disk, thickly filtered by a rampart of gray smoke from the West Coast. The entire sky smoldered in soft pastels. I could stare directly at the sun and also see its silhouette through the stripes of Old Glory. It was 7 p.m., a half-hour before sundown, but ten minutes later the orb vanished into murk.

I’d not been living enough in the present, mindful of the moment. I was too intent on the future, distracted by “what-ifs” about the pandemic, the election, the economy, the climate.

I felt a spark of happiness at the unexpected scene, a surge of energy as I smiled at the window. Why? The scene was pretty and beguiling, like glimpsing a rare species of bird, but the image seemed to transcend loveliness. Symbolism? Well, one association was grim—the overshadowing twilight of the American prospect, squelched by the pall of apocalypse. But that was too facile, and only occurred to me much later. My initial delighted reaction was spontaneous and unanalyzed except for this: the past several months had been short of such moments, such gifts. Not that the universe had stopped generating arresting images and experiences, but that I’d had difficulty seeing them.

Much to Learn; Many Lessons to Master I’d not been living enough in the present, mindful of the moment. I was too intent on the future, distracted by “what-ifs” about the pandemic, the election, the economy, the climate. Foresight is valuable, but it’s wise to recall that the future—in whatever way you envision it—doesn’t exist. At least not until it becomes the present, then quickly the past. In that sense, fretting about the future is fretting about nothing. What good is that? As I watched the flag, I realized I’d been complacent about my relative disregard of the present. The smoky sun and flag gripped me and barked, “Pay attention!” and I was happy to be where and when I was.

The next morning, with the rising sun a dim reddish circle and COVID-19 protocols in place, I was pleased to deliver the briefing to pumped-up firefighters. I was glad for the privilege of membership in the fire service. I was present, but how to remain?

If I direct you to “Avoid complacency!” I may just as well urge you “Don’t breathe!” Mindfulness, however you choose to cultivate it, is one antidote, but so is the purpose of the publication you are reading: learning. That’s a practice I can credibly urge you to perform. Our knowledge and our ignorance expand in sync. Fresh answers spawn new questions, and if you are in a continual state of education it’s not as easy to slip into the quicksand of complacency. Webster’s defines “complacent” as “satisfied, smug.” With so much to learn and so many lessons to master, how can you surrender to that? Rather, believe: we’re not good enough and never will be. Peace. There’s always at least two more chains to go.

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Two More Chains, published quarterly by the Wildland Fire Lessons Learned Center, is dedicated to sharing information with wildland firefighters. For story tips, questions, or comments, please contact: Paul Keller, [email protected], 503-622-4861.

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Curtis Heaton’s ‘See You on the Other Side’ Triggers Positive Reader Response

Curtis Heaton’s amazing story of survival on the MacKenzie Fire—“See You on the Other Side”—that was featured in the Summer Issue of Two More Chains unquestionably resonated with folks. We also highlighted Curtis’ “See You on the Other Side” in the Wildland Fire Lessons Learned Center’s (LLC) Blog: https://wildfirelessons.blog/2020/10/27/see-you-on-the-other-side/.

Curtis’ powerful storytelling ability in expressing one of his piece’s key themes: “Ultimately, it is not the good days that define us. It’s the bad days,” motivated many folks to respond. We thought you might appreciate seeing some of these responses of gratitude that we received on the LLC’s Blog site.

Input from LLC Blog Readers

Glad You Made It Thank You for Sharing Thanks, Curtis. You tell a harrowing story with clarity and To heck with historians, keep being a storyteller! I’ll bet you grace. Really glad you all made it. have enough experience to write several books. Great, easy reading. Thank you for sharing . . . I don’t even want to imagine Rachelle being in that position.

Deepest Respect Thomas Elliott What a grand, vibrant story from a truly amazing storyteller. Completely captivating. My words seem to be so empty Decision Making compared to what you all endured. My deepest respect. Thank Thanks for your thoughts and lessons learned to help others in you. better decision-making processes.

Michael T. Rains Ben

We also received this input after the Summer Two More Chains was published:

Different Circumstances; Similar Experience

This morning after finishing a briefing on a fire in California, I but similar experience. I have never heard someone articulate walked to the chow line and grabbed breakfast. With COVID a similar experience to what I went through, in such detail, mitigations in place, I brought it back to my trailer and opened where I instantly was taken back to that day I was in my my email. shelter.

The first thing that caught my eye was the email from the Every detail that Curtis described, I could vividly relate to. Lessons Learned Center with Two More Chains. I was happy to When he talked about “A very personal experience, accepting see that the topic of the issue’s featured article “See You on death,” it hit me like a lightning bolt! I have never had the Other Side” sparked my interest. someone put pen to paper and describe how I feel after my shelter deployment. I settled in with my chicken fried steak with biscuits and gravy and began to read the article. As good as the country fried Thank you for publishing this article. It has given me the sense steak was, I couldn’t eat it! As I read Curtis’ account of what he of brotherhood, in that someone else has gone through a went through on the Mackenzie Fire, I forgot to finish eating. similar experience.

The vivid recount of what he endured played in my mind as Chris Fry though I went through his experience with Curtis. Assistant District Fire Management Officer – Battalion Chief 33, Angeles National Forest I was instantly taken back to 2006 when I went through a shelter deployment on the Mudd Fire in Northern Nevada. Curtis’ experience paralleled mine. Different circumstances,

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