The Boulder Fire

The fire was sending smoke plumes above Boulder, Colorado that looked like giant thunder heads out in the plains of the eastern part of the state and as the smoke blew east from the winds of the Rocky Mountains, clouds formed that sparked lightning and collected precipitation. 

         

The fire chief wondered if they would get some help from the weather today and hollered to his crew, “We’re going to work the fire from the westward flank and meet with the forest department midday to assess progress."

         

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for those jokers," exclaimed a crew member. 

         

“Regardless of why we are here, this is our direction for the day," the chief fired back.  The smoke made him cough but he continued with his directions.  He knew that fighting the fire from the west side was futile and they would do a lot of work with little gain but his instructions were implicit from the forest department, which he referred to as the “iron fist” when it came to these big fires.  It was more like trying to spread butter on a cold pan rather than waiting for the pan to heat up. 



         The crew worked through half the day making little progress.  The chief, usually a soft spoken man, took his opportunity to address the decision makers in the forest department during their midday rendezvous.  Over the years, despite his gruff nature he had learned to approach these meeting with diplomacy. 



“I would like to move my team to the south east, thus utilizing our resources more effectively," pointing to the map. 



“Very well," agreed the young director.  "Your experience in these matters is invaluable and we encourage your input."



This came as a surprise to the chief as well as his crew.



WORD COUNT: 299