While the new arrivals were being introduced to their accommodation, a war council convened at the Argyll. It was quickly decided that Rattray, who held Commission title to the Grampian region and had arrived with a contingent from Badenoch, should assume command of the combined force. Mackinnon produced a map to show them the terrain. These men, experienced foresters, listened while Mackinnon explained the extent of the outbreak and its impact. The B-road from Glenfinnan to Polloch was impassable. Only from Strontian could they access the affected area.
Finally Rattray spoke, “Enough, I think, for the time being. Let’s all take a look, it’s not a bad night. You can lead the way, Mac,” and Mackinnon nodded, rolling the map under his arm. “There’s a long wheel-base in the carpark outside,” he suggested. “We can use it and all go together.”
The foresters stood at the point in the road where Mackinnon’s men had earlier stopped to gaze on the fire advancing over the afforested terrain below. The sharp smell of burning had struck them as they jumped from the back of the vehicle to observe their nemesis. A distant roaring gave substance to the air around them.
“Bloody hell!” Rattray muttered, looking toward the red glow that roared in the darkness. He aimed night sight binoculars at the scene but allowed them to drop on their strap around his neck. “Useless,” he said cryptically and faced Mackinnon whose features were clearly visible in moonlight.
“Nothing we can do tonight, anyway,” Rattray said, “except make plans for tomorrow.” He called to the others, “We’ll get back to Strontian and talk about how we tackle the fire. Mac here has made arrangements for us to stay at the Argyll tonight.”
Mackinnon coughed and spoke quietly. “I have to go down to Polloch. I left three men there on firewatch, but I’m going to pull them out. If any kind of wind gets up they could be cut off.”
“We don’t need that,” Rattray said. “ I remember Polloch. I’m surprised you were able to save the huts. What’s the latest news of the casualty?”
“They tell me he’s going to be okay,” Mackinnon replied. “He’s shocked and badly blistered. They say he’ll be out in ten days or so.”
Mackinnon warmed to Rattray. He knew Rattray had been talent spotted when in his early thirties and sent to Glasgow to take a mature student’s degree. He had then been promoted through the ranks, pour encourager les autres, proving that the Commission really was a meritocracy. Being neither private school nor Oxbridge, Rattray was, of course, destined to rise no further than ‘Regional’.
“Some thinking time will do no harm,” Rattray said. “We’ll leave having another meeting until ten o’clock. That’s about two hours away. You ok with that, Mac? You must be bloody tired. We’ll have our get together at the police station, rope them in. I’ll contact the Inspector from the hotel.”
“I’m fine with a meeting at ten,” and Mackinnon slid into the driver’s seat to take them back to the Argyll, resisting a temptation to use a field set. He felt himself obliged to relieve the rearguard in person.
They journeyed in silence; Ramsay leaning forward thoughtfully in the front passenger seat, the others pensive behind. Mackinnon left them at the hotel and drove off immediately the last man had ducked out of the vehicle and slammed shut the rear door. The landrover again climbed the steeply twisting road from Strontian and descended to a single speck of light where the three firewatchers waited. A powerful odour of burning woodland dried the throat. The trio saw headlights through the stand of pine as Mackinnon approached. Blood-eyed and weary, they locked the hutment door and returned over the hill to their homes.
The police station was a good venue for their meeting. The place had telephone lists, maps, access to the military establishment, immediate contact with all emergency services and an inspector of police to give authority to a cohesive fire fighting effort.
Mackinnon determined to stress the need to keep the effort concentrated on two priorities. First was the small farm that lay in the path of the fire; tonight he must tell the farmer to evacuate first thing tomorrow morning, second was the siting of a firebreak. Its location would be crucial.
He phoned from the police station to find that the farmer was preparing to leave and had already made arrangements to transport his livestock to other smallholdings nearby. Neighbours had gathered and utility vehicles were being loaded with furniture despite the late hour. The crofters were prudent men. Vagaries of nature had conditioned them long since.
While the crofting community worked through that night to evacuate the farm, the Commission men rested to prepare for the daylight hours ahead.