Port Townsend's Phyllis Speser has served as a volunteer firefighter for about five years, between her time in an all-volunteer department in rural California, and her current stint as part of East Jefferson Fire Rescue.

But before she was deployed last month to help fight the Silver Lake and Grand Coulee fires in eastern Washington, the biggest fires she'd fought were a mutual aid call and a grass fire in Chimacum.

“I'd had extensive training, and some experience, in putting out fires,” Speser said. “I knew the basics of how to use a fire hose, how to use your tools to stamp out a fire, or put dirt on a spot, to cut off its oxygen. And I could find spot fires by their smoke, smells and warm embers, still glowing.”

This was the training that kicked in when Speser was deployed, the week of Aug. 13, and found herself working 12 to 13 hour days on average, with roughly six hours of sleep a night, but with her longest day lasting 27 hours, allowing her enough time for a nap or about an hour or two before she went back to battling the blaze.

“No matter how much you train, you wonder what will happen the first time you are actually fighting a fire whose flame length is much higher than your head,” Speser said, crediting East Jefferson Fire Rescue Lt. Gavin Rogers and her fellow volunteer firefighter, Matt Stewart, with standing by her side.

Four days into their deployment in eastern Washington, the East Jefferson County trio was redeployed to a fire threatening both the dam and the town of Grand Coulee.

“As our strike team drove into town that evening, we could see a massive plume, glowing from the flames and bending over in high winds,” said Speser, adding that her group of engines and crews included brush trucks and a water tender. “Gavin was reviewing the potential dangers with us as we drove in, and reminding us to keep our heads on a swivel.”   

Tasked with protecting the town's City Hall and major hotel from the fast-moving fire, Speser and her fellow firefighters responded by back-burning the hillside above those structures, to prevent the fire from running down the hill and burning down the whole town.

“We would run 1.5-inch hose along our fire line, a dirt road, with 1-inch hose take-offs every 200 feet, for knocking down any fires approaching the line, or spot fires blown across it,” Speser said. “My first job was to lay hose.”

Speser carried packs of 1.5- and 1-inch hose, plus take-off valves and nozzles, up the hill and set them up, while other firefighters scouted out escape routes and safety zones, “to make sure they were as safe as our strike team leader thought.”

For the actual back-burn, the personnel received a new set of assignments, with Speser being posted to watch behind the fire line, and put out spot fires with her hand tool.

“If I couldn't do that, I was to call for water,” Speser said. “It was a good job for someone who was new to back-burns. You want more experienced people on the drip torches and hoses, so we all stay safe.” 

From there, Speser recalls the strike team leader pointing to a notch about 200 feet away, and telling the firefighters, “When it comes through there, we'll start the back-burn.” 

“I watched the fire come steadily downhill towards us, listening to it crackling, seeing it dance with the wind,” Speser said. “Fire moves uphill faster than downhill, so when we lit our back-burn, the flames ran uphill to meet the main body of fire. Along the fire line, the heat was intense, and the flames high.” 

Speser was kept busy digging out and stamping out spot fires, as Rogers, Stewart and other firefighters worked their hoses, keeping the fire away from the road.

“I was well-trained for this job, and my training kicked in unconsciously,” Speser said.

After the action was done, Speser thought about her father, a decorated World War II veteran.

“I could understand better some things he said,” Speser said. “Things like the trepidation before action, the satisfaction of knowing each person on the team is doing their job, so you come home safe, and the feeling of adrenaline seeping out, and being bone-tired but grateful that you did your part well.”

Although most of the rest of the East Jefferson County company's deployment was, in Speser's words, “less eventful,” she pointed out that mopping up the areas where the fire had burned through was wearying in its own way.

“But you have to stay on your game, so you don't miss hot spots that can flare back up in high winds,” Speser said. “When you're tired, ash gets in your nose. The adrenaline is not kicking in then.”

Speser expressed her gratitude to East Jefferson Fire Rescue for supplying her with the training that made her ready for such a deployment.

“It's a special honor to be able to help people,” Speser said. “I was raised that we all need to do that in some way. It's part of what it means to be in a community. I came home proud to have been a member of a great crew. Besides, it's a kick when you can also indulge that adrenaline rush.”