They had only moments left to take cover in foil-lined
fire-protection bags carried by each man and to hope for the best.
"Yeah, I'm here with Granite Mountain Hotshots," Eric Marsh called
out, his voice cracking over the radio transmission. "Our escape
route has been cut off.
"We are preparing a deployment site, and we are burned out around
ourselves in the brush, and I'll give you a call when we are under
the ... shelters."
Those words, documented in transcripts newly released by state
forestry officials, marked what is believed to be the final
transmission from the 19 "hotshot" crew members killed in the June
30 disaster, the greatest loss of life from a U.S. wildfire in 80
years.
The wind-whipped, lighting-caused fire destroyed scores of homes and
blackened 8,400 acres of drought-parched chaparral and grasslands
before it was extinguished in and around the tiny town of Yarnell,
northwest of Phoenix. One crew member survived.
Two investigative reports have since been issued, one earlier this
month in which investigators accused forestry management officials
of placing the preservation of structures and land above firefighter
safety.
The Arizona Industrial Commission fined the Arizona State Forestry
Division $559,000 for workplace safety violations stemming from the
fire. Families of those killed in the blaze are seeking millions of
dollars in compensation.
The Yarnell Hill fire was relatively small by Arizona standards, but
the emotional impact of the loss of the 19 firefighters has
reverberated through the state and beyond.
[to top of second column] |
The last words from the men on the front lines that late afternoon
were contained in snatches of two-way radio chatter picked up by an
audio-video recorder mounted on the helmet of a firefighter
elsewhere in the fire zone, according to Carrie Dennett, a forestry
spokeswoman.
Recorded in the more than seven-minute sequence were the voices of
officials from operations, air command and the hotshot crew.
"We are in front of the flaming front," a member of the team
reported during the frantic early stages of the recording. There
were calls from the imperiled crew requesting emergency water drops
from planes or helicopters. And yelling.
Realizing the men were in jeopardy, operations officials asked air
support teams to contact the embattled crew. But it would prove too
late to help.
Moments later, Marsh called in with news that he and his crew would
be deploying their personal fire shelters, a last-ditch move to
survive when there was no means of escape. "Affirm!" he said, before
radio transmissions from the scene fell silent.
(Editing by Steve Gorman and Mohammad Zargham)
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