Alaska: The Fire War

From all appearances Fort Wainwright Field outside of Fairbanks might have been launching World War II bombing runs. Antique B-25s, the first U.S. planes to raid Tokyo, lumbered down the runway as old Liberator bombers tested their engines for takeoff. The planes were engaged in a different kind of warfare. More than 2.8 million acres of Alaska’s timber and tundra—an area more than twice the size of Delaware —have burned this year. The planes’ mission: dropping chemicals to slow the fires’ advance.

Like everything else in the nation’s biggest state, disaster was outsize. Alaska’s summer has so far been unusually dry and hot, and 334 fires have already been counted this year. Last week 66 of them were still out of control—with little hope of relief—destroying for years to come much of the Far North’s fragile ecological balance. Caribou moss, the grass and undergrowth that nourish the herds on their annual migrations, shriveled into ashes. Eskimos and Indians in isolated areas who depend on caribou meat faced the prospect of one or more barren seasons.

Computing Losses. Fires cause havoc in Alaska every year, but the Federal Bureau of Land Management, which has supervision over much of the state’s wilderness, considers this fire season the worst since statehood was achieved ten years ago. Authorities hired 2,192 men to stop the flames. As the planes attacked a blaze by dropping chemical retardants at its edge, bulldozers would rush in to cut firebreaks through the timber. Fourteen Army riverboats were readied on the Yukon and Tanana rivers to rescue villagers trapped by the flames.

Although Indians and Eskimos stand to suffer greatly from the fires, authorities suspect—but have not proved—that natives started a few of the blazes. The Government pays $46 to $65 a day for firefighters. A few weeks of these wages can mean nearly a year’s living for a village family in the interior. Also, as more people move into hitherto virgin territory, there is a greater chance of accidental fires. Until recently, about 80% of Alaska’s fires were caused by lightning, 20% by man; the ratio is now nearly reversed. Careless campers on the Kenai Peninsula, for example, left the embers that last month destroyed 2,578 acres of prime timber, most of it in a national moose range.

In an area so vast, complete protection is impossible. Faced with heavy losses of forest, wildlife and recreational areas, however, the state is cracking down on those whose carelessness starts fires, when possible making them pay for the damage they cause. Next year the authorities may close dry areas altogether. In the meantime, huge chunks of Alaska are simply disappearing into smoke.