My dad was on that fire, back in the days when they conscripted you right out of the grocery store and handed you a p*ss pump and a spade. For all the good it did, they might as well have not bothered. A hundred thousand men on foot couldn’t have made a dent in it.
He was gone from the time it crossed the boundary until harvest time, when people started raising hell with the government about farmers not getting their crops off. The worst part for us was that it burned his trapline and all his cabins, so there was no winter income. Shortly after that the rabies epidemic started, so things got pretty skinny there for a while. Thank God for moose meat and potatoes, and game wardens that had the mercy to look the other way sometimes.
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