Hard Hats Are For Heroes
~ Our Indian Firefighters! ~
Suddenly the fire rushed up from below. The only possible escape for the fire crew was to struggle through the flaming brush toward the top of the ridge.
The going was tough as the desperate men fought their way through the raging inferno. Their Forest Service liaison officer was not a young man. He became exhausted and dropped while a sheet of flame swept towards him. Without concern for their own lives, two men in bright hard hats ran back through the smoke and flame, picked the officer up and carried him to safety.
Like always, you could locate the hottest, most dangerous part of the fire by looking for those bright hats with the strange insignia on them. Only the American Indian wears this unusual headgear while he risks his neck in roasting temperatures hot enough to drive off the devil himself.
Like his forefather, today’s wildfire warrior puts on the colorful headdress as his badge of bravery. No one has a better right. Every Indian pueblo, reservation and community engaged in the fight against fire has its own painted hard hat with a distinctive tribal insignia. One look at any sterile, denuded, gullied hillside is dramatic proof of America’s urgent need for the fearless, copper skinned crews who deliver full value for their pay.
A savage forest fire under Indian attack stands as little chance for survival as General George Custer did at Little Big Horn. Indian fire crews plunge into a fiery hell of blazing brush and timber, armed with shovels, axes and picks, and gripped with a special brand of determination to save the land. The red man’s zeal is just as fierce as that of his ancestor who fought with bow and arrows, tomahawk and long lance to drive back the white invader. Ironically, the fight against fire is one the Indian never loses. Thousands of Indians are called to duty every fire season and the roster reads like a far western war council of a hundred years ago: Hopi – Navajo – Zuni – Papago – Blackfoot – Crow – Shoshone – Zia - Taos – Apache – Ute. Using an Indian to fight a timber or brush fire is logical. Many Indians have timberlands of their own to protect.
The Mescalero Apache has large holdings of good pine timber in Southern New Mexico. The Navajo owns timber in northeastern Arizona. Other tribes have lived next door to forests all their lives. But, this is only a part of an Indian’s exceptional qualifications for firefighting.
The red man operates best in rugged country. Because he has lived under adverse conditions most of his life, he swiftly adapts to the primitive conditions on a blistering fire line. Sure-footed, he travels difficult terrain with fewer accidents and greater success than any other breed of firefighter. Most important of all, Indians function together machine-like. They organize into 25-man crews, much like commando units, to snuff out a wild fire from initial attack to final mop-up. No war parties in history got better results.
The ability to fight fire is not the Indians’ only attribute. The competitive spirit between pueblos and reservations keeps both the quantity and quality of work at a much higher level than that found among pick-up labor anywhere else.
Each crew has its own crew leader and straw bosses. A crew is not broken up except in an emergency. The members work and stay together at all times. Hundreds of these hot-shot wits make up an ever-ready force throughout the Western United States. Many of them may be in action, battling fires, while you are reading this.
From the very beginning, the Indian firefighter program has been developed by the Forest Service and cooperating agencies into a large, highly organized force which has played an important part in minimizing damage done by range and forest fires throughout the West. The work is vital. Every forested acre saved from fire by the skill of the organized crews is an important piece of natural treasure. The treasure can be timber needed for building, beauty for the recreationalist, or forage for game animals and livestock.
Indians first became professional firefighters back in 1948 when they were called to help in California. Then, during the 1952 fire season, 644 Indians were sent to fires in Montana, Idaho, Colorado, Washington and California. In each instance, the red man proved he was far better than any firefighter used before. By 1960 the fabulous reputation of the Indian crews had spread and in that year, 1500 firefighters were called. Year after year, the use of the crews has continued and grown larger. Now tribal leaders work closely with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, U.S. Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management and the National Park Service to keep a superior manpower pool of firemen cocked and ready.
Yet, with all the glamour that hangs around his bright hat, and with all the tales of heroism told about him, very little has been published about the Indian firefighter himself, what he’s really like, and what motivates his bravery.
Writers and photographers learn quickly that the Indian shuns publicity. In general, he is clannish, suspicious and close-mouthed. You find it hard to get to know him, and still harder to understand him. To the white man, many of the Indian ways seem strange and primitive, for he clings to ancient rituals and beliefs. Highly individualized ceremonies are kept tribal secrets. As an outsider, you are never welcome at ceremonies that honor the sun, the eagle, and the rattlesnake. There are many Indians who refuse to tell their real or war names, even to each other.
After a dangerous day on the fire line, the Indian may dance a “Rain Dance”, a ritual going back far beyond the coming of Columbus. Don’t ask to take part in it, or to photograph it. The Indian shakes his head solemnly. No!
One Navajo chief has said: “Fighting fires is about the only thing the white man does that makes sense.”
His statement pretty well reflects the general feeling of the American Indian towards our super highways, super jets, and supermarkets.
(written by Sam Ewing, July 1967 and published, with photos in
the October 1967 issue of Fire Engineering magazine)