10:23 pm - February 24, 2025
On July 9, 2001, a camper near the Thirtymile Trailhead in Washington State’s Okanogan National Forest left a campfire unattended, setting off a chain of events that would forever alter the U.S. Forest Service’s approach to fighting wildfires. The previous winter had been one of the driest on record, and the summer temperatures were near historic highs, creating conditions ripe for disaster. When a passing plane reported smoke later that evening, firefighters were called in to tackle the growing Thirtymile Fire. The crew sent to the scene was young, inexperienced, and hastily assembled—many of them were in their first fire season. The group was actually a patchwork of two undersized crews, with half of the members having never worked together or under their crew boss before. The lack of cohesion was compounded by a divided command structure, as the crew boss shared leadership with an inexperienced trainee, rather than the usual seasoned captain, who had been too drunk to respond after a fight with his wife. Exhausted from a midnight call and a long night of mobilization, the team was already at a disadvantage.
When the crew arrived at Thirtymile, they were told that the initial response team had largely contained the fire. However, their inexperience quickly became apparent. They worked too slowly to secure the progress made, and their unfamiliarity with equipment, such as water pumps, hindered their efforts. Confusion and disorganization took hold, and as the day wore on, the combination of intense heat and afternoon winds reignited the blaze. Despite calls for helicopters to drop water, the fire had already spiraled out of control by the time they arrived. Tragically, 14 firefighters were trapped behind a wall of flames. The crew boss ordered them to take shelter on a river beach using fire shelters, but six individuals—either unable to hear or ignoring the order—sought refuge on an exposed rock slope. When the fire overtook them, four lives were lost: Tom Craven, a 30-year-old with over a decade of experience, and three younger recruits, Devin Weaver, 21, Jessica Johnson, 19, and Karen FitzPatrick, 18. The Thirtymile Fire would go on to burn nearly 10,000 acres, costing $4.5 million to extinguish. An investigation into the tragedy revealed a catastrophic failure of command structures, communication, and safety protocols.
The Thirtymile Fire became a turning point for the U.S. Forest Service, exposing the critical need for trained, well-rested, and experienced firefighters with strong leadership and adequate resources. In the years that followed, the agency made strides to professionalize its firefighting force, implementing reforms to ensure safer and more effective operations. However, nearly a quarter of a century later, many firefighters say the system is beginning to resemble the dangerous disarray of 2001. The root cause of this regression is a mass exodus of federal firefighters, with the Forest Service losing half of its permanent staff since 2020. Fed up with low pay, grueling schedules, and poor working conditions, firefighters are leaving in droves, creating a dangerous experience gap that undermines the agency’s ability to tackle increasingly severe wildfires.
Federal firefighters, who are tasked with battling wildfires across the nation, earn as little as $15 an hour—far less than their state and local counterparts, such as California firefighters, who average $40 an hour. While Congress approved a temporary retention bonus in 2021, offering up to $20,000 annually, the program is set to expire unless it is codified into law. Firefighters say they are barely scraping by, with many unable to afford basic necessities. One firefighter with 10 years of experience confided, “I make less money than a cashier. If the pay supplement goes away, I’m leaving.” The situation is further complicated by brutal work schedules, with firefighters often spending weeks or months at a time away from their families, working 16- to 18-hour days in dangerous and remote conditions. The toll on their personal lives is immense, with many describing a “lonely and unpredictable” existence that strains relationships and makes it difficult to raise families.
The physical and emotional cost of the job is just as daunting. Firefighters often return home with chronic health issues, such as persistent coughs, mobility problems, and even precancerous tissue from years of inhaling smoke. Their living conditions while on the job are frequently appalling, with reports of housing infested with mice and mold, and sometimes no running water. Some firefighters have even been forced to sleep in cars or open fields when their accommodations were deemed unlivable. “This job ultimately makes you choose between a normal life or the job,” one firefighter lamented. As a result, many are opting for the former, leaving behind a career they once loved but can no longer sustain.
The loss of experienced firefighters has created a leadership vacuum, with higher-paying local and state agencies poaching seasoned supervisors. This depletion of expertise is particularly concerning as wildfires grow larger, more frequent, and more intense due to climate change. Retired firefighters and advocates, like Bobbie Scopa, who spent 45 years with the Forest Service, are sounding the alarm about the urgent need for greater investment in federal firefighting efforts. “Our fire environment is changing,” Scopa warns. “The fires are bigger, more severe, and lasting longer. We need specialized, trained firefighters to meet this challenge.” However, with the agency struggling to retain staff and invest in critical resources, the U.S. is increasingly unprepared to confront the growing threat of wildfires. As one firefighter grimly put it, “These fires are not going to get smaller. We need to fix the problems ASAP, or we won’t have the experience and leadership left to fight them.” For now, the stories of underpaid, overworked, and undervalued federal firefighters continue to fall on deaf ears, leaving many to wonder how much worse things must get before meaningful change occurs.