Not long after dawn, men were positioned in pairs in an uneven line. All wore hard hats, protective goggles and carried vulcanised rubber beaters. Most had tied a scarf around their neck. Grey plastic haversacks with a spray nozzle attachment had been filled with water and each man rested one by the roadside. These containers had arrived only hours before.
The night had been windless, so the fire had yet to reach the firebreak. There was little conversation.
Rattray had risen at six and breakfasted, Mackinnon’s wife making sure that both he and the man of the house ate hearty. A distinctive flacking noise passed overhead as they bent over their plates. Mackinnon’s field telephone began to buzz and he communicated with observers stationed overnight at the firebreak to monitor and report progress of the wildfire. There had been no alarms. Mackinnon returned to his breakfast. When they went into the porch, Mackinnon’s wife helped Rattray into a thick jacket and handed him a pair of gloves.
Using Mackinnon’s landrover, they drove together to the firebreak where the men were assembled and waiting. Rattray climbed on to the vehicle’s bonnet and addressed them. The sounds and smells of burning woodland accompanied each syllable.
“Now we wait. While we do, I should explain a couple of things you may be wondering about.
The local fire brigade is an auxiliary unit. Some of you are members of it. It was decided that the tender should stay in Strontian. It is bone dry this high on the hill. There is no reservoir of water up here. Spraying the area beforehand wouldn’t work either, evaporation would see to that, so here we are with water containers. Use them sparingly and only when beaters can’t cope.
Helicopters have laid retardant next to the firebreak. This should do its job and help stop the fire. Let it burn out on the revetment. You put out anything that starts on the other side of the road. Patrol and be vigilant. Visual communication will to be difficult. Every ganger is issued with a whistle. When you are not dealing with an outbreak of fire and you hear the whistle, go immediately to your ganger. Mac directing this operation. He will keep your ganger informed about what’s going on.
The head of fire is heading directly towards our firebreak, and there’s no wind to speak of. Conditions are in our favour. Meantime, relax and let the fire come to us. It won’t be long.”
So they waited. Above them drifted an enormous grey cloud that blocked sight of the morning sun rising over high hills to the east.
The odour of burning timber thickened. A roaring grew louder and the temperature rapidly increased. Visibility foreshortened. Smoke poured through ranks of spruce. A gust of flame flared at one location, then at another. Figures appeared and vanished in swathes of smoke sweeping the roadway. Flame climbed tall Sitka at the north end of the firebreak and charred timber at the revetment began to redden. Draughts of cold wind blew, replacing heated air rising. Embers whirled and flew.
Men moved through a red glare and swirling smoke, water haversacks on their backs. Drifting embers lit clumps of dead grass or bracken and were immediately attacked with beaters or sprayed with water. Men sucked hot air through scarves that looped tightly over their faces.
All along the southern edge of roadway, heavily clad and helmeted men were beating at outbreaks. Strips of exposed forehead seared, eyes were bloodshot, and bodies sweated with effort. Gangers anxiously patrolled their allotted stretch of road, identifying figures with difficulty in the orange haze.
The intensity of heat and noise grew, driving men up the slope beyond the southern verge. Lofty conifers flashed with flame. Burning boughs crashed to lie blazing on the revetment. Men briefly sprayed each other with water from their backpacked containers. Fire constantly sprang up in dry vegetation, and was struck into darkness by beaters.
Robbie kept young Iain close to him. From time to time they dealt with a small outburst that had gone unnoticed. The handheld radio set crackled regularly, keeping every ganger informed of progress along the firebreak.
On one occasion the full squad came together to extinguish a dangerous fire threatening to take hold in thick scrub. Noel and Alex came late and with gloved hands beat out sparks that had showered on others unaware that their clothing was smouldering.
Pairs united to swiftly deal with outbreaks, then immediately returned to patrol the area entrusted to them. Several times, through the roar of fire, they heard whistles being blown. They searched for the ganger and each time found him, field telephone to his ear, shaking his head, “It’s being dealt with. No need for us to go.”
Below the road, the blaze which had howled in fury began to burn itself out and slowly subside, flames flickering and dying on the revetment of charred logs. Along the road men were turning constantly, eyes peering for any flicker as sparks floated and settled on dry grass at the verge.
Dense smoke continued to bedevil, but heat levels were decreasing all along the firebreak. Embers spiralled in fiery draughts, then descended and were beaten into cinders. Beyond the revetment, walls of flame had resolved into black tangles of charred forest that seeped an acrid smoke. The fire raged on, but south of the roadway it had failed to cross.
Thirty minutes later, whistles blew and a group gathered around each of the gangers. The planting squad milled around Robbie on the slope next the roadway and unshouldered empty water containers, dumping them at the verge. Beaters were thrown down on dead grass, everywhere singed and blackened. They pulled scarves from their faces but throats were dry and no-one spoke.
“We stay,” the ganger told them. “It’s still smouldering underneath. We have been lucky up to now but any gust of wind could make big trouble. We don’t want to lose it so keep a good look out. Mackinnon sent word that one of the lorries will be here in ten minutes with water and a bite to eat for everybody, but take your break in turns. We’ll be here for a while yet, I’m thinking. And I wouldn’t be standing too long on the same spot, Ruairidh, the asphalt has melted on the road.”
Ruairidh stepped off the tacky surface with some difficulty, “Christ,” he said in a harsh voice, lifting and inspecting both feet in turn. “The soles of my boots are twice as thick.”
Blue and George glanced at their hands. Skin around the hollow of each palm was raw from hefting the rough handle of a beater. Silas sat tiredly on a hummock and Ruairidh clapped his shoulder. Guy wearily lifted a beater. “Come, Roland,” he croaked and walked back along the verge.
“You coming, Ruairidh?” Blue bent to pick up another beater. George did likewise. Noel, Alex, Silas and young Iain remained with the ganger, Iain diffident and apart from the older men. Tendrils of smoke trailed the road between them, separating them further.
A stationary lorry became visible through distant smoke. Alex looked at the ganger. “You boys better go and bring whatever he’s got for us,” and Robbie shaded his eyes. “I don’t think he’s coming all the way up here.”
Alex nodded and trudged off, treading on burnt vegetation at the side of the roadway. The other three followed in single file.
The roadway winding along the hillside commanded a wide prospect. As smoke thinned, the men confronted a scene of black desolation. While all remained pristine on rising ground above the road, below the revetment a phalanx of black trees had been created. Ahead, and to their left, the long front of fire raged below the road. Behind it, residual flames flickered. Steady streams of smoke rose in calm air from the massive ruins of burned forest and drained into the huge cloud above. To their right, early buds of spring swelled from thin hill bushes, and the evergreens stood unharmed.
Noel turned to Alex immediately behind him and gestured towards the incinerated forest. “That’s bloody apocalyptic.”
“We stopped it along a few hundred yards of road. This fire has miles of frontage,” the reply rasped from a dry throat.
“We need a change of wind direction and torrential rain,” Noel wiped his eyes. Hot air pressed and perspiration burned and dried. He arrived at the lorry. “Quails eggs for me,” he said hoarsely, “then your vindaloo.”
“Like it hot, do you?” the bearded driver enquired. “You get used to it I suppose.”
“There’s another five looking after our front,” Alex said hoarsely. “We need to collect for them, and our ganger too. Mustn’t forget him.”
“Help yourselves,” the beard said, “there’s plenty,” and climbed into the rear of his wagon. Alex followed, then readily pulled Noel and Silas up. “Did you hear about the helicopter?” the driver asked.
“What helicopter was that?” Alex asked as Iain straightened beside him, having been easily hauled into the vehicle to join the others.
“The helicopter that they say flew over the farmhouse yesterday. The men were talking about it before they were taken to Belford Hospital. Bloody angry they were, saying downdraft spread the fire. Trapped them.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alex turned around, “is that true?”
“It’s what they’re saying,” the driver grunted. “They saw somebody with a camera taking photographs. You know, eye in the sky stuff.”
“Eye in the sky,” Noel repeated in the confined space of the wagon, and for a moment the others looked at him curiously.
“That’s what they’re saying,” the bearded driver said stolidly, “so help yourselves now, there’s plenty here.” He jumped down to the roadway. Neither Silas nor Iain had spoken. Alex stared at Noel and asked, “are you okay?” There was an immediate response, “of course I’m okay”.
Soon they had rejoined the ganger. The five others could be seen walking in hazing smoke. The day remained tranquil and the burned forest fumed. The men ate quickly while Robbie waved Roland and the others to come and take their break. The ganger held their pre-packaged lunches under an arm, bottles of water laid on the ground beside him. Indistinct at first, they became defined as they approached. Guy was leading, a beater balanced across his shoulders.
“Our turn,” Alex said, wiping at his chin before tugging at a neck scarf then deciding not to raise it over his nose after all. “If you have time, a word with the driver about yesterday’s helicopter would be of interest,” he said to Guy as he neared, Roland close behind.
“Helicopter?” Guy questioned, but Alex merely raised an eyebrow and moved off with Noel. Silas followed them both without speaking.
The ganger stared at Roland and Guy. “I know what this is about,” he said suddenly. “Some of the men remember seeing a helicopter flying near the farm. I’ll tell you what I know. No need to talk to the driver,” and Robbie handed each a packaged lunch.
Ruairidh, George and Blue arrived and were given their boxes.
The ganger motioned at Iain, “Go with Alex,” he said. “Stay with him and Noel.” He sat on a hummock and opened his lunchbox. “This is a serious matter. Remember it’s secondhand information. It’s what was overheard, what people heard the survivors saying after they got away from the farmhouse,” and Robbie spoke of the anger in the Kingussie men, of the role played by the helicopter. The five listened in silence.
For several hours pairs remained on firewatch all along the roadway, but conditions continued windless and there were no outbreaks. Evening was falling when a convoy of local volunteers arrived to relieve them.
The fire continued moving forward, feasting on the trees that covered the land to the north and east.