What Do You Do With Your Trailer Tires During Storage?

[longfisher]

I was a young 2nd Lt. and based at Camp Pendleton, CA before going overseas. Pendleton is a remarkable place...all savanah with few trees. Incredible green like I imagined at the time Ireland was in the spring but a fawn colored brown in the summer and into the fall. The grass grows about 3 ft. tall and is perfect tinder when it's dry in the late summer and fall.

Well, some genius decided to do some welding on a barrier at the rifle range near San Clemente and the sparks ignited the tinder dry grass. It wasn't an hour before 20% of Pendleton was in flames due to the dry winds coming off the mountains and out of the desert.

We evacuated the smaller encampments near San Clemente and got upwind of the fire at HQ. But the fire was a b*tch and it was being driven by the winds towards the homes in San Clemente.

In steps another genius, the Col. of our regiment. As it was likely that our maintenance guys started the fire he thought we ought to assist the fire fighters who'd now been on the fire and trying it keep it out of the town for about 24 hours. They came from all over the west. It was the first time I'd seen such a mobilization and it made me envious as the Marines couldn't have pulled off such a spit-seconde mobilization like that.

Anyway, the Col. reached me at the BOQ (bachelor Officer's Quarters) in the middle of the night and said he needed me to lead a platoon into San Clemente to help the fire fighters put out the fire. At the time, I thought, "Well, OK. What's the big deal. I've put out campfires all the time as a kid. What's so special about these fires." Boy was I wrong.

I'd heard there was looting already going on in San Clemente and that some of the police had been shot at and wounded by the looters fleeing in the fire. So, I went to the armory and checked out a 45. Seemed reasonable at the time. My men were going to be unarmed. And, I was sure as Hell not going to allow anyone to harm my Marines.

So, we set out in 6Xs and basically just followed the smoke until we found the HQ of the fire fighters where we proudly announced that we'd come to help. The looked at us like we were from outer space. They asked if we had fire-fighting experience and I told them we had every kind of fighting experience we needed to have....just point us to the front. 2nd Luis all have an attitude and I had mine.

They said to cool it for a while so they could check with the Fire Marshall to see where we could be best used. They were stalling us and for good reason. They were concerned that our bravado would just get us killed in a box canyon somewhere.

I heard some radio calls as to where they should deploy us. But the Fire Marshall said something about us being there was illegal and he'd get back to them about whether or not we could help at all. Time wore on endlessly as we sat around doing nothing.

I got restless and wanted to do something, anything. Glory wasn't going to be found sitting on my deuce gear. So, when I saw some approaching flames I gathered the men and had the Sgt. marche them off into a neighborhood to put out that particular branch of the fire.

Now, let me tell you something about fires with the wind blowing them in your direction. The flames may never get to you before you're dead. The smoke will asphixiate you first.

Our first spirited lunge at the fire, with little more than entrenching tools, resulted in a complete rout of the men. They came back from the fire screaming and coughing in pain and it looked like a river of cowards to me. So, like a dipstick I halted them with a threat and told them to follow me back into the "heat of battle".

Within about two minutes I too was about to pass out and looked around me and saw that I was alone. Time to bug out. And, just in time too. The flames leapfrogged us on the wind and started again down canyon and across our ingress route. We were trapped, about 50 of us. And, for all my foolhearty youthful vigor I didn't have a clue as to what to do.

Just as I was about to make another bad decision we saw some headlights coming up the road and right through the flames. It was a pumper truck with real fire-fighters on it spraying the roadside and looking for us. They knew we'd left. They knew we were hell-bent for glory and they knew we'd die if they didn't cool our jets for us.

They quickly and in military precision without hardly a word spoken cut a fire-break around out position and allowed the fire to pass us by. They really knew what they were doing, no question about that.

After the fire burned out and we were realtively safe, I asked how we could help. The guy in charge said, "You can't help". He then told me about a law that I'd never heard of before. He called it Posse something or other. He said it forbid the military to assume police or public service duties in any non-military location unless specifically requested by the Governor of the state. And, he said the Governor of CA had made no such request.

I radioed for 6x pickup and low and behold the Col. and about all the known regimental and battalion staff were on the trucks that were sent to pick us up. They quickly bundled us into 6xs and off we went to the base. Not much was said on the way back other than they'd brief me when we were back on base.

Once back, my CO calmly walked over to me and asked for my 45. He said he'd see to it that it was properly returned to the armory and that I'd be well advised not to mention my indiscretion of having armed myself to anyone.

That was that.

The next day I learned that we had acted completely illegally in going into San Clemente, despite our best intentions. We had violated the Posse Commitatus law passed after the Civil War which forbids the military to engage in what would otherwise be civilian law enforcement. And, the pistol I'd carelessly and unthinkingly taken with me was the touchstone of a serious incident had I found the need to use it.

I was petrified for weeks wondering if my exercise of "initiative" that they'd so drilled into me in OCS was going to cost me my bars. But nothing was ever said about it. Apparently, the Col. had put the fix in with the local authorities and everyone simply accepted that the Col. had made a mistake and that it wasn't necessary to even let the commanding General know about it, much less the civilian authorities.

Such were the ways in the 70's. Simpler. Less complex. Less litigious. People didn't make a big deal out of stupid mistakes as long as there was no harm.

Try that today and I'm afraid my career would have ended as quickly as Lt. Calley's did after Mi Lai.

I'll never fight a fire again. I'll run, armed or not.

Thanks for the chance to tell this crazy story. I haven't thought about it in 30 years or more.

LF

[bigfish4me]

Good read there LF....glad you survived to tell the story....if you have not ever been caught in a forest fire you have no Idea how big and bad they can get.....I have not hunted the big woods since....and probably never will.