Ralph On Fire - Garbage Cans

The fire crew was on the bus driving to yet another fire. The bus wasn’t a luxury coach like the one you might be picturing. Rather it was a surplus school bus. The last two rows of seats had been removed for fire gear. Air conditioning consisted of open windows and a six-inch fan mounted at the front of the bus. My friend, Alan, was the driver so I always sat directly behind him. After a few moments of silence, Alan leaned back and said, “Maybe we’ll get to eat out of garbage cans again.” Alan had given me something to look forward to. . . .

Several factors determine how well you eat on forest fires. Larger fires bring in caters who specialize in serving fire crews. Some are exceptionally good. Others left you hoping for food poisoning so you could skip breakfast. It’s hit and miss.

On small fire, you may get sandwiches from a local supermarket or a few loafs of bread and some meat and cheese to make your own. C rations were popular for a while and really didn’t taste bad, as long as you didn’t look at the expiration date.

We had been on the fire a few days and our meals had consisted of C rations, sandwiches, with cereal and donuts for breakfast. We weren’t starving but we weren’t eating well either.

Returning to fire camp, we were told a caterer had arrived and was setting us a mess tent. Hot meals would be served in an hour. Just the fact we would have a hot meal and a place to set while eating raised the morale of the crew.

Standing in line with a hundred other people waiting for a meal was common. You always tried to be as close to the front as possible. When caterers started serving, the portions were larger. As people kept showing up the portion size decreased. Another benefit to being near the front was generally the food was hot.

We had reached the table that held the trays, plates, plastic ware, and napkins. Past the table, four 55-gallon garbage cans were setting on burners. Behind each can, a person with a huge pair of tongs waited to dish out dinner. When I got to a garbage can, the person with the tongs reached in and placed a round steaming object on my plate. I stared at it, and then stared at Alan who just looked at me and shrugged. I looked at the caterer and asked, “What’s that?”

The caterer looked at the bag on my tray and replied, “Roast beef.”

“No,” I said pointing towards the steaming bag, “what’s this?”

I was holding up the line – that makes caters nervous. He did take the time to tell me it was a boiling bag meal. Alan got his and we walked over to the tent, found a table and sat down.

Cutting through the mesh netting, four steaming plastic pouches fell out. One had meat and gravy, another potato’s, the third a vegetable, and the fourth desert. I was staring at the pouches when I noticed no one was talking. Everyone was busy eating.

On that fire, and many more, every morning and every evening I stood in front of a garbage can waiting to eat. Some of the best meals we had on fires were served out of garbage cans.