The General and the Big Dog

From A Surreal Morning Briefing To A Massive Firing Show On The Stanislaus, A Lesson In Leadership And Instinct On The Fireline.

Written By: Greg Keller, Former Superintendent of the Eldorado & Modoc Hotshots

The General and the Big Dog

Before the General and the Big Dog met we were working a small fire on the Stanislaus N.F. just off the Evergreen Road on the Groveland District. It was a small fire, about fifteen acres and our crew and the General’s crew were working the fire along with a few engine folks and some CNP’s (Curious non producers) as well as some PONTS (Person of no tactical significance). A small unassuming cloud appeared a few miles to our north and produced a few lightning strikes, all of which started a fire. I mentioned to the other foreman on our crew that we might be here for a day or two longer.

Well, never being one to make a classic understatement, some twenty days later (this was before length of shift and length of assignment came into being, back then you counted the days up, not from fourteen down. This was also the time when, like ancient dinosaurs, Hotshot Crews and their Superintendents roamed over the wildland fire landscape like so many T-Rex’s in Nomex) we found ourselves at another 0 dark thirty briefing generally boring and lacking pertinent information.

By the end of this briefing events would transpire to make it one of the more memorable in my career. Things were progressing along somewhat normally, everyone on the plans sheet got up and said their piece, whether they had something pertinent to say or not. Even the IC seemed to be dozing off leaning against a pole and seemed to be as bored as the rest of us. Then the transforming event of the briefing took place. A few TV trucks with crews showed up and proceeded to set up their lights and cameras. Well this seemed to put some caffeine into the IC’s system and he perked up even if no one else did. Well the time for the IC’s closing comments came and boy did he ever have some comments. First of all, he told the assembled group that no firing could take place until TV and print media were on scene. I had never heard such a ridiculous statement in all my years of firefighting so I first looked at my Supt and he was impassive, then I looked at the General, he too was impassive, both were keeping their thoughts to themselves. But knowing these men as I did, I knew intuitively they would do what needed to be done, media being present or not.

Now that the TV crews had their lights and cameras running, the IC really got into his performance. For a small statured man, he had a commanding voice that now had everyone’s attention. In his booming voice, he asked “What do you do when you get the Big Dog down?” Well he proceeded to tell us that you “Kick it and keep kicking it, kick it until it can’t get up and then keep kicking.” “You choke it and keep choking it until it can’t breathe.” “Never let the Big Dog get up!” This was right in line with one of Knute Rockne’s pregame speeches to his Fighting Irish. And like the Fighting Irish of old, I was ready to go out and kick the Big Dog.

The Stanislaus Complex was over two hundred thousand acres and I believe the largest fire in California history at the time. We had finished constructing line on both the north and south sides of the Clavey River, a tributary to the Tuolumne River and fired the south side the day before. So heading out with the Big Dog speech still ringing in my ears I knew that today we would close the door or as the IC put it, kick the Big Dog. My one concern was the IC’s instructions that no firing was to be done without the media being present.Well the General was in his element, to say the least. In Hotshoting we have a saying when firing, “Can’t see it from my house.” Well not that we could see the General’s house, but all of us knew it was only a few miles away and the General had an impressive array of crews and resources at his disposal. He had formulated a firing plan and was now going to execute it with or without the media being present. The General began his briefing, no telling where the Division Supervisor was, and looking straight into the eyes of the engine Strike Team Leader. He placed a wad of tobacco in his mouth and in a loud and gravelly voice said, “ARE YOU WITH ME? I’VE GOT TO KNOW IF I CAN COUNT ON YOU, ARE YOU WITH ME? GOOD! I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU. Now he looked at the Strike Team Leader for the dozers and basically said the same thing. The dozer operators had the look on their face of what the hell have we gotten ourselves into. Remember the tobacco? It’s just about to become important in this story.

Now the General takes out a map and places it on the hood of my boss’s truck. At one inch to the mile it was hard to give a briefing so the General flips the map over and starts using his pencil to place the engine and dozers and give the crews their firing assignments. To say the General was on a roll is a bit of an understatement. He was in his element and giving orders like they’ve never been given before. The tobacco juice started to back up and cause the General to have to tilt his head back and he was starting to gurgle a little. When he could hold it no longer the General found one gap in the circle around the pickup hood and let a voluminous stream of tobacco juice fly. It just so happened that a PONTS stepped into that gap with a brand new white hard hat and brand new yellow Nomex with brand new white gloves on. This volume of tobacco juice hit this guy dead center in the chest. The General looked at him for a brief second and then in that famous voice said, “Sorry Pal.” I never saw that guy again. Well the General was nearing the end of his briefing when he ran out of space on the map. It didn’t faze him in the least, he just kept writing on the hood of my boss’s truck. My boss said, “Hey that’s my truck.” That map remained on the hood for years before it finally wore off.

Now the time had come, the General had to inform the Division Supervisor that we were going to start firing. The Division Supervisor reminded the General that no firing could take place until the media was present. The General replied that we were just going to “square up” some of the line. The Division Supervisor somewhat gave his approval with the reminder of waiting for the media. We started at a good anchor point, some of the crews firing off a dozer line and then down the hand line into the Clavey River. The other crews headed in the opposite direction firing eight or so miles to the black. It soon became apparent that something was going on. The radio traffic picked up and questions were asked. Well the cat was finally out of the bag when Air Attack announced over the command net that a big firing show was under way. The repercussions were coming down fast over the radio, DIVS, OPS and the IC all got their licks in. The media did eventually show up and probably made the lead story for the evening news.

Back in camp that night, an ass chewing, of sorts, took place but how bad could it really be? Division, Operations and the Incident Commander did their best to act angry. I’m not making this up, really! We had just closed the door on the biggest fire in California history. We had kicked the Big Dog and kept him down.

Written By: Greg Keller, Former Superintendent of the Eldorado & Modoc Hotshots