Ode to Wildfire Fighters

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Twelve men stand upon the brink of the fiery abyss,
Astonished eyes take in the hellishness.
What had started out as a small blaze,
Had now been burning out of control for days.

With resolution in their hearts, they turn east,
Shouldering their weapons to slay the beast.
Picking their way down into the valley with care,
Past smoldering stumps of trees no longer there.

Approaching the crackling flames that tower,
They begin to encounter the inferno's power.
Of heat so intense and smoke so thick,
How could they battle this with only shovel, axe and pick?

Their leader, Jim, a strapping fire vet for twenty years,
Quickly unfolds his map, putting aside all his fears.
There is no time for pondering, questioning or hesitation,
These men need to arrive at their assigned destination.

With a wave of a hand, he leads the way,
Knowing what the twelve of them would face this day.
He's done this before, knows what he can do,
His belief in himself and God will see him thru.

With barked words over the roar of the fire,
Jim directs his men as to what should transpire.
Without another word, they set to their tasks,
They trust this man, no questions asked.

Hours go by with only short breaks,
A few precious sips of water are all that they take.
The maelstrom seems to be winning the fight,
As the day wanes into fiery night.

The stalwart leader takes a pause,
He's weary now from having fought this cause,
Soot blackened face lifting to the skies,
Dread and fear hidden in his eyes.

Jim senses that something is terribly amiss,
They should have been called off the line long before this.
He resorts to the walkie-talkie strapped to his hip,
Shouting into it with heat blistered lips.

Fatigue is taking its toll from his demanding chore,
He struggles to hear the faint voice over the blaze’s mighty roar.
“The fire has you boxed in, move to Sector Five“,
“A Rescue Team is on the way to bring you all back alive!”

In spite of the heat, Jim’s heart is chilled,
If he doesn’t move fast, they could all be killed.
He knows that time is now of dire essence,
They must escape from this fiery presence!

Off he runs with a speed born from fear,
To gather the men whose lives he holds dear.
One by one, he pulls them away from their task,
For the moment, ignoring the questions they ask.

Jim motions his crew in very close,
To answer what they want to know most.
“We’ve done our best to conquer this fire,
Going home now is what we require.”

With a wave of his arm, Jim leads the way,
On to Sector Five, away from the fiery fray.
Twelve weary men trudge up to the cleared hill,
While the blaze behind them burns on still.

Twelve pairs of smoke watery eyes,
Turn upward to scan the skies.
Twelve men standing side by side,
Searching in vain for the promised ride.

Jim’s eyes steal to the path they had taken,
To watch the progress the fire is making.
Quickly the flames devour the trail,
He prays to God the rescue doesn’t fail.

From Jim’s lips to God’s ear,
A new sound is what he hears.
Out of the thickening smoke they appear,
Three copters were drawing near.

One by one, the iron steeds lightly land,
Each co-pilot holds out a welcomed hand.
Pulling aboard the tired crusaders,
Only to wait for the last campaigner.

Jim stands a tall lone figure,
Watching the flames growing bigger.
Erasing the path the twelve had taken,
Leaving waste the land that is forsaken.

With his prayer silently spoken,
He looks upon the land blackened and broken.
Jim turns to take the proffered hand,
The co-pilot remarks, “Its time to rest, my man.”