In the war against the massive Zaca Fire, many of the crucial battles have been won by a veritable army of foot soldiers - the hand crews and especially the elite firefighters known as Hot Shots.

Hot Shot crews are an invaluable resource for wildland firefighting because they can get to inaccessible places - by hiking or being flown in with all the equipment they need to build a containment line - and can be left there to get the job done, said Ray Dombroski, a fire information officer and former Hot Shot crew member.

“They're well respected, and the quality of work they do is hands down better,” Dombroski said.

The job is difficult, dirty - at times dangerous - and not for the faint of body or heart. So what would draw people to the ranks of the Hot Shots and the front lines of a stubborn blaze like the Zaca Fire?

For Traci Betty, a 29-year-old Central Coast native, the lure is excitement, a fascination with fire behavior, and a deep camaraderie with her fellow members of the Vandenberg Hot Shots crew.

“It's always changing,” Betty said last week at the Richardson Base Camp in New Cuyama after finishing a 12-hour shift on the fire lines. “Expect the unexpected.”

The primary job of the Hot Shots and other hand crews is to manually clear brush and other vegetation, using chain saws and hand tools to build containment lines intended to stop the advance of flames.

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The Zaca Fire, which has burned 240,207 acres since it began July 4, has been particularly challenging to firefighters because it has been burning in extremely rugged and inaccessible terrain. While aircraft and bulldozers have played major roles in the fight, the Hot Shots and other hand crews have been indispensable.

In an air-conditioned trailer at the Richardson Base Camp on a recent night, Betty and four other crew members sat with blackened faces and ashen clothing, recounting the challenges they have faced on the fire lines.

Temperatures were frequently in the 90s or triple digits, and the terrain has been steep and unforgiving.

“The weather has been a battle,” Betty said, noting that fire commanders “won't put crews in dangerous situations.”

As a Hot Shot crew, the group is prepared for extended stints on the fire lines. Members carry small Meals Ready-to-Eat (military-style rations called MREs); at least six quarts of water; their hand tools; gas and oil for the chain saws; personal items such as a sweatshirt, toothbrush and toilet paper; and personal protective gear, including a fire shelter, in case the situation gets out of control.

A fire shelter is similar to a large blanket, said 22-year-old Michael Medrano. If crew members are trapped by flames, they can wrap the shelters around themselves. The shelters protect them from the intense heat and lock in oxygen, he said.

The shelters are a last resort, said Kristin Halbeisen, 24.

“We don't plan on using them,” she noted.

When the team is put in place, they move along the fire line like a train, Halbeisen said. Each member has a job in removing the brush, with chain saws in the front followed by pulaskis, a combination ax and hoe, and then scrapes in the rear to finally remove the brush.

Last week, the Vandenberg Hot Shots had the relative luxury of being driven most of the way into where they had to work, and they were able to come back to base camp at the end of the day. That is not always the case.

“You don't know how long you will be on a fire,” Halbeisen said. “Always expect the worst.”

And the worst includes planning to stay at least one night.

With the fire nearing full containment last week, the 18-member Vandenberg crew was patrolling the burned area looking for any spots that might still be hot or smoldering.

They were in an area near Santa Barbara Canyon on switchbacks along the Sierra Madre Ridge, using instruments called Fire Finders that beep when heat is near. When a hot spot is found, crew members determine if it's safe to go near it, and then isolate the area.

If there are actual flames, the crew can call in a helicopter to drop water on the site.

Other hand crews have a function as well, Dombroski noted, such as mopping up and reinforcing a fire line, but a Hot Shot crew has more experience and can come in and work quickly with little supervision.

Training to become a member of the Vandenberg Hot Shots requires learning about fire systems, behavior and fire command in addition to physical agility tests. Members of the Vandenberg Hot Shots must run 1 ð miles under a time restraint, and do timed push-ups and sit-ups, Betty said.

For a National Forest Hot Shot crew, the physical test includes a three-mile hike with a 45-pound pack in 45 minutes, according to the U.S. Forest Service.

Once in the field, crew members are required to work carrying 45 pounds of gear.

The group hires people with experience and some without, said Betty, who has been with the team since 2001.

However, on the first night sleeping outside after the grueling work creating a fire line, some people find out that this may not be the job for them, Halbeisen said. She has been a member of the Vandenberg crew since 2005.

“(Some people) want wildland experience then get on at a structure department” and fight more traditional fires, she said,

Betty was a volunteer with the Orcutt Fire Department before she signed on with the Vandenberg Department and pursued a Hot Shot career. A neighbor introduced her to the idea of wildland firefighting.

Though exhausted after a long day of work, the group came alive when discussing the bonding that takes place between crew members, and the sheer enjoyment of what they do.

Halbeisen, an avid surfer and mountain biker, said she is drawn to the work by the adrenaline rushes and the opportunity to do a job that is never the same.

“I like working with the people and the bonding,” she added. “I'm happy to go to work.”

A love of the outdoors is also a necessity.

“You have to be into it,” noted Medrano, who said he got into firefighting as a way to follow in the footsteps of his father, who served with the Hanford City Fire Department for 30 years.

However, Medrano joked, he doesn't do any other extreme sports - fighting wildfires is enough for him.

Each Hot Shot team has its own logo that is emblazoned on their crew shirts, Dombroski said, and there is a lot of pride in being able to wear that emblem.

On a large campaign like the Zaca Fire, engine crews converge from around the state and around the country. Each crew has its own T-shirts, and many times people trade them, Dombroski said.

However, one would be hard pressed to find a Hot Shot crew shirt on the back of someone who is not a crew member.

Members earn the right to wear a Hot Shot logo, he said, adding that when people leave a crew, the leadership will buy back the apparel.

Hot Shot crews are the breeding ground for smoke jumpers - another firefighting team that like Hot Shots manually creates fire lines, but unlike Hot Shots they don't hike in, they parachute.

Most Hot Shot crews have a home base with a national forest, and are available on a national level. Crews have a high retention rate, meaning most members come back year after year, giving them a wealth of institutional fire knowledge and forming a cohesive team, Dombroski said.

“They become self supportive,” he added, and can last on their own for up to two days before equipment drops must be made.

The Vandenberg crew is unique in that they are the only Hot Shot team within the Department of Defense. The team is also closely tied to the base, so they are restricted to only California fire responses - in case they need to be called back to Vandenberg.

The base is their number one priority.

Vandenberg's expertise in fighting fires and the development of their Hot Shots crew grew out of lessons learned in the tragic 1977 Honda Canyon Fire, which killed four people.

When fighting a wildland fire, it's all about the strategy, Medrano said.

His fellow crew members agreed, and noted that this particular fire fight has been an arduous task, with the combination of dry vegetation that has no previous history of burning, and hot, dry weather. Not to mention the incredibly difficult terrain.

“It's not dozer country,” Betty said, alluding to the heavy equipment that can quickly make a large fire break.

If bulldozers cannot get to a fire, then the Hot Shots are counted on, but once the fire line reaches an area that is more accessible, the group is happy to see the heavy machinery.

It's great to hear the familiar “chink-chink-chink-chink” of the machines and feel the ground shake at their presence, noted 21-year-old Danny Hetherwick.

It means back-up has arrived.

The terrain where the crew is now working, south of the Cuyama Valley, is familiar territory because they train in the area and fought the Perkins Fire in the same region in 2006.

Betty also noted some of the members are former scouts who spent weekends camping and hiking in the same mountains.

The Vandenberg Hot Shot crew has been working the Zaca Fire since the beginning. They were the second crew dispatched to the initial call, and have since served multiple tours.

The crew is under the jurisdiction of the Department of Defense but has an interagency agreement to work on events such as the Zaca Fire, according to fire officials. The crew works a normal shift not exceeding 16 hours and then the bill for their work comes back to the Forest Service.

Finance officials said their cost estimates for Hot Shot crews are $6,500 to $7,000 a day per crew.

According to Forest Service officials, a typical Hot Shot crew is 20 people, with about 15 falling in the category of crewperson, plus squad bosses or captains, and one superintendent.

A lower-rung crewperson, who is a seasonal employee, can earn about $15,000 annually, while a more senior crewperson may work nine months out of the year and earn slightly more. A superintendent, who works year round, can make about $60,000.

When a crew works more than eight hours in a day or more than 40 hours in a week, they earn overtime, said Kathy Good, a forest service spokeswoman.

Unlike municipal or state firefighters, federal crews are not paid 24 hours, but are only paid for hours worked, with a cap of 16 hours in one day.

In addition to overtime, crews can also be paid extra for hazard pay, if deemed necessary by the incident commander, or a night differential for working after 6 p.m.

The crew is allowed to work up to 14 days in a row, then they must go home for two days.

On those off days, the Vandenberg Hot Shots agreed, a real shower and a comfy bed are all that is needed.

Betty added that her first priority when she is released from an incident is to spend time with her 9-year-old son.

“I've been doing this since he was young, so he is used to it,” she said. “He understands my job.”

A shower, though, is a close second, Betty said. Despite being a difficult job, the crew all agreed that they would continue to fight the wildland flames as long as they could.

Malia Spencer can be reached at 739-2219 or mspencer@santamariatimes.com.

September 2, 2007