The Chinook helicopter took off from Bieber in Lassen County and landed at Redding Airport. Thirty of us who were now reassigned to the Marble Cone fire boarded a jet for Monterey airport. Vans were waiting for us to shuttle us out Carmel Valley Road to Rana Creek Ranch.
They let us off there, and we were recruited to set up the fire camp. We were the first contingent of CDF personnel to arrive, so we got to work arranging the command trailers and generators and communication equipment in the shade of the oak trees.
I was originally sent as a communications officer, and we soon had an antenna tower erected, and radio frequencies tested.
I was told to report to King City dispatch. In the scramble of ordering resources, it turned out that there was another communications specialist already at King City. I was told to return to Rana Creek fire camp and report to the command trailer. As I was passing the newly created helicopter base I saw a fire captain who I recognized from Mendocino County installing flagging in the large meadow, so I pulled in to say hi. When I approached him I noticed that he was kind of heated up and unhappy. He explained that he was assigned as helicopter manager and there would be more than a dozen helicopters coming and he was alone. I asked him if he wanted an assistant, as I could probably wrangle a reassignment. He said sure! That’s what happened. Pretty soon helicopters started orbiting overhead and we were landing them one by one in the large field.
Among them were ten Hueys from Los Alamitos Air National Guard. The only radio capability they had was military frequencies. This is going to be a problem. The solution was that I was assigned as liaison for five of the Huey helicopters because I was a home boy and familiar with the area. The Lord works in wondrous ways. The other five Hueys were assigned to the Forest Service, which had their helicopter base in the big field at the intersection of Carmel Valley and Tassajara Roads.
Chaos was reining in the escalating efforts to get equipment and people organized to implement actions, as the fire was approaching Carmel Valley and the Carmel Highlands. Bulldozers were scattered on nearly every ridge from Arroyo Seco to Carmel Valley constructing lines every which way, many not connecting to anything. A few dozers were starting construction of the fire control lines between White Rock and the coast at Botcher’s Gap.
This is the northern extent of the wilderness, the only geographical possibility for a control line before the fire would enter Carmel Highlands and the Monterey Peninsula. It was highest priority. The Hueys would be used to provide logistical support for the dozen heavy bulldozers pioneering their way across devilish terrain.
Captain Chip Washington immediately requested an orientation flight to become familiar with the area. We were assigned the identifier of Marbleguard49. I was issued a handie talkie for communications, and we lifted off.
I was still recovering from the shock of this amazing assignment as we navigated through the smoke and the edge of the burning fire, locating landmarks and reference points for future flights. The pilots were Vietnam combat veterans and super comfortable and happy to be flying the terrain at treetop level.
As we proceeded, I couldn’t help but note that most of the fire was burning at low to moderate intensity, and for the most part was doing a good thing. There is a beauty in it.
Today we can see from the aerial videos available online, images that we did not have 50 years ago. Most of the fire is burning slowly and moving across the landscape at low intensity. The percentage of fire that is high intensity with the big flames is rather small. It appears more like a landscape scale prescribed burn than a dangerous wildfire. In this country conditions can change in a heartbeat. You better be ready.
I was getting an education. I had been a grunt ground pounder for ten years, and now the aerial perspective was changing my world.
The heavy bulldozers were pioneering the northern fire control line between Carmel Valley and the Pacific Ocean. The Hueys were invaluable in delivering bulldozer operators, fuel, food, water, and bulldozer parts and mechanics directly to the new fire line. At one point we slung in a huge air compressor because the cylinder head on a Caterpillar D7 had to be replaced.
Breaking through super steep wilderness required some highly skilled bulldozer operators. Fortunately, there were a few local guys whose skill at operating dozers in badass country can only be described as spectacular. Difficult is an understatement. One of the operators of a D8 bulldozer abandoned the machine and walked out on foot. Found the dozer high centered on a rock protuberance. The D8 was too big for the terrain.
Terry Bishop and Gary Paddock were running point navigating through super steep razor back ridges with their D6 Caterpillars. These guys are legends.
Bulldozers at full throttle consume a lot of diesel. Our helicopters could barely keep up with the consumption. We developed a daisy chain of three full barrels slung beneath the helicopter delivered to the fueling points on the new fire line, returning with empty barrels over and over and over. Hot, dusty, bad ass gnarly.
Other assignments included smoky flights over to the Big Sur coast to the Forest Service fire camp delivering supplies. The pilots were familiar with flying in poor visibility conditions. We had to keep our eyes peeled for other unannounced helicopters and fire bombers and lead planes all of which appeared at one time or another during our flights. We did not have the technology and common communications of today. We flew the terrain below the ridge tops to stay safe. I don’t know about safe. Maybe safer than getting clobbered by a twin Beechcraft or a Chinook helicopter. It was certainly thrilling
Whenever we had a flight to the coast or down to Arroyo Seco, we would take the opportunity to fly in to the edge of the burning perimeter to observe fire behavior and to check on conditions necessary for safe future flights. At least that was the reason for doing what we did. Curiosity and youthful immortality certainly figured in. The pilots were just happy that nobody was shooting at us.
We kept track of the fire’s progress and behavior for a number of days. In the dinner line at Fire camp Doyle Metheny, an old school fire guy from Northern California, approached me and asked if we could sit and talk. I said sure. I could tell he had something up his sleeve. We had fought fire together a number of times in Northern California, mostly involved lighting miles of burnout and backfires. He knew his stuff.
We went over to the edge of the fire camp area where there was a large log, and seated there was my first fire captain, Dick Gillett. It turns out Dick was in charge of the fire line division from Chews Ridge lookout to Arroyo Seco. Doyle was the firing boss. Doyle didn’t waste any time in asking me, “Do you think those boys would be OK with Burnol canisters on board? Burnol was pint or quart cans similar to PVC pipe glue containers, except they contained napalm and an explosive charge, and were used to ignite whatever was near the epicenter of the blast. Instant twenty foot ball of flame.
I said give me a few minutes I’ll go check. I didn’t bother to ask what he had in mind, all I knew is we were headed in the right direction.
I strided out to the helicopters, where Captain Chip Washington and his peter pilot, the one that flies in the right seat, wore a flight suit that said Ortega. I inquired if they would be comfortable with having napalm grenades on board. He blinked a couple of times, when Ortega said, “Ordnance, captain.” A smile formed on Captain Washington’s face, and he said, “Sure.”
I returned to the guys, and reported the affirmative response. Doyle explained that the next day they would send one of the Hueys down to San Bernardino to pick up cases of the napalm grenades at the manufacturer.
The following day, I saw Doyle and Dick at breakfast, and they were both pissed. The powers that be would not permit the use of the grenades or the Huey.
What was approved was a Bell Jet Ranger, and a Veri pistol, which is a 25 mm signaling pistol that fires an illumination round that can be used to set back fires in light fuels under the right conditions.
Doyle was pissed because he knew that the signaling flares would not have sufficient heat to light the thick chaparral brush on the slopes of Chews Ridge.
The following morning, they were set to begin the ill fated firing operation. Doyle was still red in the face about the numbing stupidity he was confronted with. He came to me and he said, “When you boys get finished with your resupply mission, can you follow the fire line back over the Chews Ridge line and appear overhead? Say about 10:30?” “Sure.”
We hauled our ass and trash missions first thing in the morning and made sure that all was well on the northern line. I radioed in that Marbleguard 49 would be checking conditions in the vicinity before returning to the helicopter base. “10-4.”
We flew over a ground firing operation in progress that had been ongoing for the last couple of days with poor results and incomplete burning. The powers that be would not approve the burning operation to occur in the afternoon after the fog had burned off and the burning could be completed cleanly. Because of this and the incomplete burning, when the afternoon winds came up they were experiencing slop overs. The fire crews would then spend the rest of the day trying to clean that up. It was pretty messy.
As we proceeded south over the fire line, we saw that the illumination flares were worthless. I heard on the radio that the Jet Ranger was overheating and would no longer be flying. It turned out the pilots were completely uncomfortable with the whole thing and chickened out. What was overheating was their heads. Nothing ignited.
As we circled to turn back, we were right over the Cahoon Ranch house, when I observed Doyle on a small knoll waving for us to land. I radioed that Marbleguard49 would be putting in at the Cahoon Ranch at the request of the Firing Boss.
We landed, I got out and approached Doyle, signaling with my hand across my neck if he wanted us to shut down, he indicated hell no with his hands, right behind him were two Ecology Corps guys with cardboard cases of the napalm grenades. As he approached, he said I want you to go up there and… He was speaking so fast against the sound of the Huey at flight idle, I said Doyle why don’t you get in.
Get in the helicopter he did, with two cases of napalm grenades, and one of the Ecology corpsmen beside him.
We lifted off, Doyle directed us up around the Chews Ridge fire lookout tower, and we reconned the area that he said he wanted to light off first before we proceeded with the entirety of the firing operation.
On the fire line below there were many fire trucks and hand crews supporting the operation. CDF firetrucks, Forest Service fire trucks, CDF inmate crews, California Ecology Corps. Must’ve been 100 people or more.
The napalm grenades required the insertion of a blasting cap and charge assembly, which means removing the seal lid, and replacing it with a lid that contains the blasting charge and a pull pin fuse.
The Corpsman would hand me a grenade, I would uncap it and re-cap it with the fuse, then hand it to Doyle, who would pull the pin on the fuse, and fling the grenade out the door sailing into the brush field below. The fuse has about 45 seconds after the pin is pulled before detonation. Doyle dropped the first few grenades as he directed the path to the pilot through the intercom.
Everything was going smooth and fine. But then, Doyle pulled the pin and fumbled the hissing grenade onto the floor of the helicopter. The angle of the orbiting turn caused the grenade to roll around the helicopter wildly. To this day I don’t know how long it took, because time stopped, all I remember is it rolled up toward the pilot seat, and then across a time or two, when I was able to grab it and fling it out the open doorway. We were flying with both rear doors back and locked open and doors were off in front as well to improve visibility. All is well that ends well.
It was about a 50 acre patch located on the top side of the brushy ridge, a wedge shape, that he wanted to take out first. So he dropped another 8 grenades in just the right places.
We returned to the Cahoon Ranch LZ and landed. Doyle told us to shut it down. Doyle got out, he had a Jeep with a driver waiting, and he said why don’t you guys come with us!
Captain Chip Washington, Ortega, and myself jumped into the back of the Jeep, and we proceeded to the top of the ridge where we had just dropped the grenades.
One of the firefighters had a weather kit. The wind blowing adverse to the fire line. That means the wind is blowing the wrong way. Doyle’s plan, was for the ignitions of the napalm grenades to light off the opposite slope of the fire line we were standing on, the force of the fire reversing the wind flow. Yeah, and…
The wind was blowing 13 miles an hour adverse to the line when we got there. Pretty soon the opposite slope started accelerating and burning with greater intensity and momentum. The wind flow was soon neutralized, and then it reversed, flowing favorable to the fire line. That means it was blowing the right way. The reading was 13 miles an hour in the opposite direction from when we started. Doyle yelled out, “Let’s go!”
The firefighters that were strung out along the line were equipped with firing devices of all description, and immediately began applying fire to the perimeter line both at the edge of the perimeter and by tossing more napalm grenades as far as possible in. What we witnessed was a successful counter-fire operation. Doyle was further down the fire line, when he caught my attention and waved his hands circular over his head to indicate for us to go to the helicopter and go airborne.
We jumped in the Jeep and the driver highballed it down the ridge to the LZ, the pilots fired up the helicopter and we soon lifted off and were coming overhead the flaming brush and building smoke column.
Circling over Chews Ridge lookout, Helicopter Marbleguard49 followed the edge of the burning column coming in with the aim to continue dropping grenades close enough so as to not to lose the counter-fire effect already created by the initial ignitions.
The counter fire operation was successfully turning a 13 mile an hour wind adverse to the fire control line into a 13 mile an hour, wind favorable to the control line, enabling firefighters to now rapidly ignite the back burn as fast as they could move. Yes, that is a net 26 mile an hour wind shift. Pretty amazing. Fire is powerful.
The firing crews on the ground were making good progress. We had to make sure that the helicopter didn’t get too far ahead of them with the aerial firing. There is a lag, a reflex time between the moment the grenade ignites and the flames accelerate building the necessary heat. We had to make sure we were getting complete burning of the brush with the counter-fire so that the created wind would not shift adversely in the wrong direction and create a big problem. This was tricky.
We started by dropping grenades at the upper end of the drainages leading down to the base of the slopes. We then progressively dropped more grenades continuous lighting from top to bottom, with just the right pace and timing to maintain a functioning and rising convection column. The rising convection column of heat is critical to maintaining continuity of favorable wind along the perimeter being fired. It is a dance.
Doyle radioed to us that everything was working, and to keep going. He repeated this many times along the way. The Firing Boss was happy.
The Firing Crews were working great, moving swiftly, paralleling Carmel Valley Road headed south toward Arroyo Seco. The counter-fire was strong enough and effective enough that no spot fires or slopovers occurred on the wrong side of the fire control line. It was a beautiful operation, a beautiful sight.
Once we reached the Arroyo Seco River we followed it west a half mile or so with our aerial ignition. The crews coordinated and completed the firing at the intersection of Carmel Valley Road and Arroyo Seco Road.
As we headed back north, we flew up against the rising convection column of heat and smoke that was climbing far above our altitude. The helicopter started to enter the edge of the column as rain sprinkled the windshield, and turbulence started to bump us around pretty good. The helicopter peeled away from the column, the experiment a fine success. He was later learned that the column rose to 30,000 feet that day. We didn’t have the word then but today you hear about Pyrocumulus.
When we landed at the Cahoon Ranch, we were greeted by the Ranger in Charge Tom Perkins and Operations Officer Brian Weatherford. I knew Brian, who had been my Battalion Chief from Butte County days. Both men had smiles on their faces, and Brian came up to me and shook my hand and said, “Rawitzer, you’re crazy…and thank you!” I remember telling him it was all Metheny and Gillett’s idea, I was just following orders.
The entire operation was a testimony to leadership exhibited by Doyle and Gillett, and the way all of the crews working in concert with each other the way they did to execute a pretty tricky tactic. There were a lot of things that could’ve gone wrong and they didn’t. It was a good day on the Marble Cone.
We had just fired many miles of perimeter control line. The back burn went 6,000 acres that afternoon, eventually amounting to over 35,000 acres before meeting with the main fire. For many years it held the record for the largest back burn in California. The Marble Cone held the record as the largest fire in California for years as well.
The firing operation was a success, and it was only a couple more days before we were demobilized and released back to our home units.
The Marble Cone Fire ended up burning 177,000 acres. It took 2 1/2 weeks to contain it constructing 160 miles of control lines. Compare that to today’s fires with the amount of time it takes and the amount of money spent. Times have changed. Fire has not.
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