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‘Smokebusters’ Risk Lives for $1 an Hour--and Pride

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ASSOCIATED PRESS

After a long summer of battling wildfires that have burned millions of western forested acres this summer, most firefighters are returning home. Not Dean Hyde.

Hyde won’t be heading home until 2004, his scheduled release from prison for a drug offense.

Hyde, 51, is a member of the Smokebusters, a crack firefighting squad comprising low-risk inmates in the Wyoming Department of Corrections.

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“I enjoy fighting fire,” said Hyde, who has spent more than 700 hours fighting fires this summer. “There’s a different camaraderie and work ethic. Everyone seems to work together out there.”

On a recent September evening, Hyde and about two dozen other inmates waited patiently outside the Crook County Saloon for a spaghetti dinner, a reward from local residents for containing fires near Devils Tower.

“That program works,” said Veronica Canfield, Crook County emergency management coordinator, as she monitored reports of a new fire from the saloon’s bar, which had become a makeshift command center. “They are the nicest guys. They know how to fight fires. They’ve saved our butts.”

Earlier this summer, the Smokebusters halted a fire four miles from the ranch of Bruce Zube.

“It’s the best investment of taxpayer money I’ve ever seen,” Zube said.

Zube, who volunteered to help feed the crew at the saloon, admitted he was taken aback by their politeness.

“Three of them told me ‘sir’ and I about slapped them,” he joked.

Most Western states have prison firefighting teams. California has several thousand inmate firefighters.

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The Wyoming Smokebusters are incarcerated at the Wyoming Honor Conservation Camp in Newcastle, 70 miles down the road from Devils Tower. They fight fires throughout the state and in South Dakota’s Black Hills.

Including the 38-member team, about 140 inmates are housed at the lower-security camp instead of the state penitentiary, a privilege earned through good conduct, attendance at education or rehabilitation classes or having committed a nonviolent crime.

“We would not have any death-row type murderers up here or any type who have committed spotlighted crimes,” camp warden Michael Mitchell said.

Prisoners who opt for the camp forestry program and pass stringent training and fitness tests earn the chance to become Smokebusters.

The team is supervised by the Wyoming Forestry Division and has been around in one form or another since 1966, program manager Rob Akers said.

“I’ve had every conceivable crime,” he said of offenses committed by team members. “Everything from forgery to murder to drug deals to anything you can think of.”

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But, he quickly added, “in the 20 years I’ve been associated with the program, I’ve never had an escape.”

Whether on fire lines or performing more mundane community work such as trimming weeds at the state fairgrounds, the crew is always supervised, Akers said.

As members sipped soft drinks on the saloon’s wooden boardwalk--they are not permitted alcohol--a supervisor kept watch from a short distance.

Team members are paid. They start at $1 an hour and can double that after 25 fires. It’s not the $8.71 that first-year national firefighters earn, but no one is complaining.

“Even if I wasn’t paid, it’s nice to get out of the camp, plus it’s nice just to get out here and feel human and see how society’s going,” said James Pasek, 21, of Gillette, Wyo., as he sat on a bench near the saloon’s front door.

The inmates seem to enjoy a special relationship with their forestry supervisors.

“I feel they’ve kept me out of some really tight spots,” said Warren Rathbun, 43, of Henry, Neb.

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Muscle-bound, tank top-clad Tom “Turtle” Pierson, 24, of Torrington, Wyo., proudly proclaimed he holds the all-time record for most fires fought on the team: 41.

He is trying to save as much as he can so he’ll have a little bit of money when released.

“I like what I’m doing now,” he said. “I think I might pursue that.”

Some are able to parlay their skills into professional firefighting jobs after prison, but even if they do not, the experience fosters a positive attitude they may never have had before, Department of Corrections spokeswoman Melinda Brazzale said.

“Many times this is the first time they have had a good job,” she said. “It’s hard work, and they feel they’ve accomplished something when the day is over.”

“Once they start fighting fire, their work ethic, their dedication, their teamwork all increase because they start developing pride in their work,” Akers said.

On a fire, the team wears typical yellow firefighting outfits, nothing to indicate their inmate status.

“They’re hired as firefighters, and I want them to be treated as firefighters,” Akers said. “The fact they’re inmates shouldn’t have any bearing on how they fight fire.”

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The Smokebusters spent more than 22,000 hours on about 50 fires this summer. Because of their low wages, they have saved taxpayers an estimated $185,000, Akers said.

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