I grew up loving the outdoors. My father and his siblings had inherited quite a few acres of undeveloped land out in the country. Me and my brothers spent a lot of time out there hunting, camping and searching for arrowheads in the freshly tilled soybean fields. Dad taught us all about camping and outdoor safety and all of us learned to love being out in the woods.

When I was a Sophomore in High School me and two friends decided we would go camping out there for part of our spring break. We thought this was a good idea. Looking back, I really can’t believe my parents let us do it. Teenage boys, no supervision, loaded weapons, fire and wide open spaces: who thought this was a good idea?

There were three of us. All of us were bad for each other and knew it. We knew it, and liked it. Alan and I had been buddies since kindergarten. He was always quiet, artistic, and sure of himself. I wouldn’t call it confidence (though later it became that), but it was just that he always seemed to have a pretty good sense of who he was. Alan was always the one saying, “This is stupid. That’s a terrible idea and it’s going to end BADLY.”

Chris was the idea man. The visionary. He was fairly new to the group and had regaled us with stories of his worldly experiences in the forbidden zone of the public school system. You see, we were in private Christian school and had been since K-5. We looked at Chris like a new prisoner in a Turkish prison where all the old prisoners crowd around and ask things like: “What’s it like out there? Are there flying cars yet? Have they found a cure for warts? Give us news, MAN. ANYTHING!”

As for my role in the group… I was the willing executor of all Chris’ exciting schemes. My fear of my father’s discipline was enough to suppress any nefarious creativity when on my own, but not enough to quench my desire to be cool. No, the desire to be cool can only be killed by the hand of God and harsh consequences.

Spring Break was upon us so we gathered up our gear and headed for the woods. We had no real plan, but we were all three giddy with excitement. We arrived at the camping spot I had chosen. It was a small clearing about 20 yards across surrounded by trees. A nice spot, with easy access by an old logging road that led out to the highway.

We set up camp and turned our attention to what we would do with ourselves for the weekend. True to form, Chris had all the ideas.

“Let’s start a campfire.”

“It’s 1 in the afternoon, we won’t be eating dinner for hours.” I replied.

“Let’s start a campfire.”

“Okay,” I replied.

Alan simply rolled his eyes and began reluctantly helping us push the layers of leaves away to make room for a fire in the center of the clearing. I began searching for suitable fuel for our fire, as Chris shouted after me “Make sure you get some BIG pieces of wood! This fire is gonna be AWESOME!”

I stockpiled an enormous cache of firewood and dug the matches from my pack. I carefully built a pyramid of wood and kindling and ignited the fire.

“Dude, that’s too small.”

“Not really. We aren’t cooking and it’s warm out. We can make it bigger after dark.”

“Dude, that’s too small.”

“Okay.”

I piled the wood on until the fire was so large and hot that we had to stand back several feet for fear that our brows would be singed. We stood for a long time just holding sticks in the fire watching them burn and staring blankly. Finally, Chris spoke up again:

“Ben, let’s take your gun and shoot some targets.”

“Okay.”

We took my 12 gauge shotgun, some ammo and paper targets and headed for the neighboring field. I walked about 10 paces when I stopped and remembered to put the fire out. I could hear my Dad speaking to me like Mufasa from the clouds saying, “Ben, never leave a fire unattended.”

I stopped and began kicking dirt over the fire to put it out.

Chris said,

“What are you doing, man?”

“Putting the fire out so we can go.”

“But you just started it!” (apparently his Dad did not speak to him like Mufasa…)

“We can’t leave a fire burning unattended.” I continued covering the fire.

“Let’s just put some rocks around it and leave it warm. Then it will be easier to start it when we get back. I’ve heard that’s what you are supposed to do anyway.”

“Well, Okay.”

We piled more rocks around the campfire, and left it smoldering. There were no flames that I could see and not much smoke so I was confident. We spent several hours having a great time shooting targets, then glass bottles, then an old television by the road. Every time Chris would see a bird he would try to shoot it, but I knew he wasn’t trying. He always did things like that for appearances. We finally decided we were hungry and it was time to head back to camp.

Walking back through the woods towards the campsite, I could begin to make out our tent. I could see the lantern we had hung on a tripod made of branches and our campfire burning warmly.

“Hey, Chris? Didn’t we put that fire out?”

“You mean the campfire?”

“Yeah, the campfire.”

“Yep. Remember, we put rocks around it and everything.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Then why is our campfire going now?”

“Is it?”

“Look up there. You can see it.”

“Oh yeah. I see it. Wow. Looks to be burning pretty good.”

“Maybe my Dad came by and started it for us.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

We continued walking towards camp with our eye on the campfire’s flames which were clearly visible now.

“Hey, Chris. Is it just me or is the campfire getting bigger?”

“Nah, it’s because we are getting closer.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s getting bigger. Alan, do you see it getting bigger?”

“Yeah, I think so. I think it’s getting bigger.”

“Guys, I think the fire has escaped.”

Just then it was as if someone poured gasoline on the campfire and it began moving in all directions and getting taller at the same time.

I screamed, dropped everything I was carrying and yelled, “RUUUUNNN!”

I began running through the woods towards the campsite at full tilt.
I stumbled into the clearing and found a disaster. The first thing I noticed was the tent. It was on fire. Not just a little on fire. A LOT on fire. I grabbed a large container of water (thank God we had already filled it) and put the tent out. I turned and looked at my two friends.

Chris was yelling, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” He was yelling in this insane high-pitched banshee scream that made his voice sound like a little girl watching boys eat worms. For some reason he was standing on his tip-toes with his hands up in the air. It reminded me exactly of how my Mom acted when she saw a mouse. I’m certain that had there been a chair nearby, Chris would have been standing in it.

Alan was shaking his head and muttering to himself something about “these idiots never listen to me. I don’t know why I keep hanging out with them. It always ends this way…” As he muttered to himself he was walking calmly around the campsite stomping flames with his hands in his pockets. Alan always acted like it was against his belief system somehow to act excited or urgent about anything.

The fire was burning in a circle with the campfire in the center. The flames were now only a few feet from the trees and I was the only one who seemed to think this was a problem. I grabbed the camp shovel and started smothering the flames franticly while Alan halfheartedly stamped with his feet and Chris screamed like a schoolgirl. We finally got the fire extinguished without any trees going up in flames. If we had been just 5 minutes later, it would have been a disaster. Not disaster like “I lost my keys and I’m going to be late for work,” but disaster like “1,000’s of acres of undeveloped land going up in smoke, people running screaming from their homes, and my father’s unabetted wrath directed at my tender hiney.”

Later that evening my father did come by to visit, but it was dark then. We successfully hid the damage from him that night, but I still had to go home and explain the giant hole in the tent and the melted sleeping bags.

He has kept the sleeping bag as a reminder. I’m sure I will see it again one day at the reading of his will.

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