Was it only last week that we arose early, sipped our coffee and watched the Tournament of Roses Parade from sunny, beautiful Pasadena? Didn’t the nation just celebrate that annual event in a magical place typically marked by azure skies and spectacular roses? How did it happen so soon thereafter that every American household was horrified to watch those lush, gentle boulevards being improbably transformed into a fiery, latter-day version of Pompei?

Having been caught amidst Hurricane Katrina, where the gusts screamed at over a hundred miles an hour, I could scarcely imagine how such winds could bring fire rather than rain. Through tears, I prayed for the Angelinos, the heroism of our first responders and where oh where was the National Guard with its Black Hawks and Chinooks?  I remembered being with LTG Russ Honore during Katrina, when he told everyone with ears that the course of wars or natural disasters were primarily determined by logistics, “because if logistics were easy, we’d just call ‘em tactics!”

It was a line good enough to steal, which I did repeatedly throughout my remaining years as an NBC military analyst. But what were the networks now saying about the logistics of fire suppression? While helicopters cannot fly during hurricanes, why had the water hoses and fire hydrants run dry in Pasadena – right down to water’s edge? Where were the tankers and bunker companies? And please, dear Lord, tell me what had become of the fire trucks and their well-organized squads? Without them, one home after another simply exploded in those ongoing, wind-driven fire storms? C’mon guys, get into the fight!

It was easy to remember the smells and the fear marking every face shown on TV. As a young officer, my first home was built along a canyon foot-hill in Sierra Vista, Arizona. An index contour line of 5200 feet ran through my back yard, which had a closeup view of the adjacent Huachuca Mountains, rising dramatically to over ten thousand feet. One Saturday morning, as I left to assume my position as staff duty officer at Fort Huachuca, I casually noted a small smoke trail spiraling the upper slopes of the mountain closest to me. Maybe that was something to check on later in the day because wasn’t the SDO supposed to be the eyes and ears of the command?

Upon arrival, I barely had time to drink a cup of coffee before the phones started to ring, a lot of civilians each of whom thought himself to be in charge. It seemed that an unattended campsite up on the mountain had done what unattended campsites tend to do – “and now, Captain, we have a fire on our hands!” I pointed out that the Huachuca Montains were not located on Federal property but soon an assortment of sheriffs, fire departments and even the Arizona Highway Patrol seemed to think I was heading the Army ‘s response! Fortunately, I took good notes on who wanted what so that my chain of command was kept informed. Later that afternoon, I finally had time to go outside and see how my mountain was doing: I could see my house through binoculars but now it appeared to have a spectacular up-close view of a volcano!

 I returned there early the next morning when my duty was over, watching anxiously. The fire-line seemed headed in my direction but the winds kept shifting. Pondering this uncertain future from my fence-line, I hardly noticed a mountain lion passing nearby; he barely spared me a glance, clearly unimpressed by my shovel. Eventually the fire consumed 24,000 acres before those uncertain winds shifted the fire back on itself - and thankfully spared my house.

It took years before I realized that such “coincidences” may contain deeper meanings. Shortly after my wife Betsy and I were married, two of her dearest friends – Pastor Joe Glenn and his wife Pat – paid us a visit, probably to see for themselves if I was worthy of her hand. Fortunately, we hit it off and stayed in touch as the Glenns took over a small church in the northern California town of Paradise. If that name sounds familiar, it may be because both their church and home were destroyed by a 2018 wildfire just like Pasadena. Describing their narrow escape, Joe’s summation is something I have always treasured. “God is good. Paradise is lost but we are OK…Keep us in your prayers!”  https://christianchronicle.org/paradise-is-lost-but-minister-and-wife-escaped-deadly-wildfire-with-the-clothes-on-our-back/

Great advice, Joe! But Governor Newsom and Mayor Bass, fair warning: You folks have some serious ‘splainin’ to do!

COL (Ret.) Ken Allard is a former West Point faculty member, Dean of the National War College and NBC News military analyst.