"They would send these big trucks out -one-ton trucks out into the village... and all the firefighters that were available...would basically get their duffle bags... jump up in the back, and the truck would just go over into Hotevilla, pick up some more people; over to Oraibi, to Kykotsmovi, and be trucked down to Keams Canyon, and, you know, were ready to go then."

[audio missing] | Biographical data

My firefighting experience occurred right out of high school in 1968, and also the summer of 1969, as I recall. But our exposure to the Hopi hotshots went earlier, because the Hopis were already being recruited in the early sixties, as I recall, for firefighting. So as a youngster growing up, we knew that our fathers and our uncles and even some of our grandparents were firefighters. So we grew up into that kind of firefighting sort of culture as well. Later, when we were in high school, the firefighters were organized by mesa, so there was a First Mesa Hopi hotshot crew, a Second Mesa hotshot crew, and then a Third Mesa hotshot [crew]. So there were three, basically, groups that the Bureau of Indian Affairs would draw on when fire calls went out. So in the early sixties it became a little bit more organized. So by the time I got out of high school, that was really the only form of employment, too, for some of us, and some of the seasonal employment for our parents, too. So out of high school I signed up, and the physical examination really wasn't as rigorous then, and they were basically looking for bodies, I guess, to call on, so they didn't really scrutinize their health or whatever. If you sign up, you were basically put on the list. But they did advise you, for example, if you wore glasses like I did, if you were called, make sure you have an extra pair. Those were the basic, I think, health advice, if you will, but nothing really vigorous. No testing of strength or vision. You just signed up, and you were on. So when you signed up, then you were basically then issued your duffle bag, and had that ready and so forth. So the way that they notified the villages if there was need for Hopi hotshot crews, they would send these big trucks out -one-ton trucks out into the village, and they would park and honk their horns, and all the firefighters that were available, not out herding sheep or farming, they would basically get their duffle bags with their personal belongings, jump up in the back, and the truck would just go over into Hotevilla, pick up some more people; over to Oraibi, to Kykotsmovi, and be trucked down to Keams Canyon, and, you know, were ready to go then.

In '68 when I signed up, I don't recall the specific name of the fire, but it actually started out north of Pocatello, Idaho. There was a big fire apparently developing, so that's when they called Hopi crew. Part, of course, of what you were issued was that aluminum helmet. It's very important insignia that they put on there. They put that on there with a logo of our sun, the Hopi sun symbol. And it had "Hopi," I think, under there somewhere. And that was our emblem. I still have that somewhere, my firefighting helmet.

Well, anyway, the call went out, I recall, probably sometime almost immediately after I had signed up. So that was my first firefighting experience. From Hotevilla and Bacavi, there was one hotshot crew, and another hotshot crew from Oraibi, Moenkopi, and Kykotsmovi, I believe. So there were two Third Mesa hotshot crews. I don't recall, for the Pocatello fire, whether or not Second Mesa and Third Mesa went, but I do know our Third Mesas were called. So after we got to Keams, then they had these old army buses up there -two of these gray army buses, I think a couple of them. And then they took us up to the Farmington Airport, and along the way we picked up some Navajo hotshot crews, and perhaps maybe some other pueblo people. We eventually got to Farmington, to the airport, and that's where apparently the transportation and logistical center was.

We got up there, there was almost like a military camp up there, tents all over, because there was thousands -all tribal hotshot crews. So we went down there and stayed, I believe at least a night, if I recall. And again, we were being transported by these old World War II army transport planes. And all it had was a long bench on the sides there, and that's where we were putting in, so our backs were right in the middle, and then we were sitting down there. So the next morning, the Hopis got on one plane, and then they took off from Farmington, and went nonstop into Idaho. That was a pretty scary flight, because these were old, rickety, World War II planes, and you know they rattled all over. And for a lot of us, it was our first flight, and turbulence scared them, and we were holding on, and all of that was part of the first experience for me. We eventually got into Pocatello, and it was like we witnessed this year, 2002, this whole area was just smoke-filled. And so the staging area was outside of Pocatello, so we were on the airport, then trucked up there again, and meshed into the bigger fire-fighting crew up there. And it was a huge fire. It went on all summer.

The Idaho fire jumped the Snake River and ignited another fire across the river on Montana, I believe. And then together, it was pretty mountainous, and a lot of ravines, inaccessible. So trying to, for example, do fire lines was almost impossible, because there were really no access roads. Basically they could do anything except have it burn. And then where it was accessible, we'd be doing fire lines, all that. It was a pretty eerie place to be, because at night you could see the glow in the smoke all over. And it was like that -we stayed up there all summer. I don't think we came back until sometime in August. I believe I came back because I had to go to school. So I don't really recall when or how [much] longer the fire went. That was my first experience firefighting, and like I said, I've only had two actual experiences of firefighting, so it's pretty vivid in my memory.

Every evening, for example, as a safety precaution, particularly for some of us who were assigned during the night, you rotate. When you're assigned during the night, even though you didn't use your flashlight, when you returned, you were told to empty the batteries, and they'd give us new ones for the following night. So you see piles of these new flashlight batteries, just mounds of it. And they would basically cut them up and probably trash them. The same way with some of these bigger battery that was off a floodlight. They'd do the same thing, too. It was basically a safety measure, make sure that you have new batteries in your flashlights every night. So gosh, it was that kind of setting up there.

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