At the fire retardant supply depot on the east end of the Fort Wainwright runway, the pilot of an Erickson Aero Tanker plane received the coordinates for a new blaze requiring a 4,000-gallon bath on a hot and smoky afternoon.
"Tanker one-zero-one, you'll be rolling west of Fairbanks," the dispatch center said, and the twin-engine MD-87 jet was soon roaring toward its next target.
In a nearby one-story office the other day, Rick Thompson monitored radio traffic and air traffic, governing a bombing campaign aimed at the flaming forests of Interior Alaska.
With dry weather and lightning sparking dozens of fires across a wide section of the state, smoke figured into every forecast from Fort Yukon to Galena this week. A dense fog-like blanket covered much of the region and limited visibility.
"It's just crazy. We got lightning the other day that tore into us real bad. We're pretty much in defense mode right now. We're protecting structures and things that matter," Thompson said.
As the air-attack program manager, Thompson, 51, spends many of his working hours either in a spotting plane that flies above fires, allowing him to serve as traffic control in the air, or riding on planes that lead tankers on low-level runs through the heart of the fires.
I talked with him on Monday as he tended to logistical duties on the ground at Fort Wainwright, such as making sure everyone knew that the Conair Convair turboprops could refuel in McGrath, but not the jets. They needed to get fuel in Fairbanks or Kenai.
The tankers, mostly converted passenger planes that once flew for the likes of Lufthansa and the Japan Air System, are equipped with large tanks to haul liquid fire suppressant, with doors that open wide for immediate release. Private companies in Canada and the Lower 48 own the planes and earn their keep through government contract work, following the fire seasons.
The tankers release retardant at 150 feet and aren't as maneuverable as smaller airplanes, which is why a smaller lead plane goes ahead to make sure the flying conditions are right and that the coast is clear of helicopters and crews on the ground.
The retardant brew is a mix of 5 gallons of water for every gallon of concentrate, which produces a thick, red goo. It can hit the ground with enough force to break limbs off trees. But even after the water evaporates, the chemicals inhibit fire and the red tint—which eventually washes away—makes it easy for the pilots to see what spots have already been hit.
Getting the retardant from the tanks at Fort Wainwright to the fire scene takes some aerial acrobatics and close coordination. With dozens of runs daily from Fairbanks, the planes have been dropping from 38,000 gallons to nearly 50,000 gallons a day to slow the spread of the flames.
Thompson said retardant runs rarely extinguish fires, but they allow ground crews to get closer to the fight. "The people on the ground are the most important," he said.
He said the pilots who do this work need special qualities because of the demands of flying in formation at low altitude with maximum weight and in conditions that are hardly ideal.
"You might have been a pilot for thousands and thousands of hours, but if you can't communicate and drive the plane and have everything come out natural without even giving it much thought, it's just not going to happen," he said.
"You have to be a really good pilot and you have to be a good multitasker," he said. "This is one of those jobs where doing things incorrectly or messing up is not an option."
An armada of airplanes, a dozen or so supplied by private contractors, have been called into service. Some of the planes are designed to land on lakes, scoop up water and return to the air for another bombing run. They go wherever the fires are, with pilots sometimes commuting to hot spots several times a day.
Thompson, who has worked on fires since 1979, is a former smokejumper with long experience in coordinating the air-attack efforts. He said he enjoys the work, in part because he observes beautiful places few people get the chance to see. He said there is nothing better than helping coordinate an initial attack under blue skies.
"But when it's smoky like this, it's really work," he said. "No one likes to fly in these conditions."