For his efforts during the Cerro Grande Fire, Sgt. First Class Jason Riley of Los Alamos receives New Mexico Distinguished Service Medal from Brig. Gen. Alex Garcia in 2000 while Col. Mark Dow, center, looks on. Courtesy photo
By JASON RILEY
Formerly of Los Alamos
In 2000, I was serving as an active-duty soldier with the New Mexico Army National Guard in Albuquerque. As a 1988 (barely) graduate of Los Alamos High School and general lover of Los Alamos, I was paying particular attention to the course of the Cerro Grande Fire and anxiously awaiting news that I would be sent to LA as part of the Guard’s response to the event.
Unfortunately, it became clear that this was not going to happen and with the blessing of my then Commander, Lt. Col. Andrew Salas, I “self-deployed” to LA on the afternoon of May 10, 2000. Heading up The Hill as literally thousands of LA residents were pouring off the mountain was surreal in itself.
The smoke was so thick as we traveled up the Main Hill Road in the back of a Guard 2.5 ton truck that I remember feeling a slight panic as it got harder and harder to breath. The apprehension was clearly visible on the faces of my fellow guardsmen as we slowly chugged our way up The Hill into the unknown.
I reported to the Guard’s Task Force Commander, LTC Bonificio Reyes, at his makeshift headquarters at the LA YMCA with the greeting that “I’m SSG Jason Riley and I grew up in Los Alamos”. I was hoping that this had value as I knew I was one of a very, very small number of guardsmen from LA. I’ll never forget how he gave me a long, quizzical stare before asking if I knew where the various water pumping stations were located in town. Having walked every inch of Los Alamos hundreds of times as a kid I knew exactly where each of them were and I responded with great enthusiasm.
My first mission was to escort the large, towed military generators to each of these sites so that the soldiers could connect them to the pumps and keep pressure in the lines for the firefighters as the power was already out. I had my own Humvee and while the troops were setting up the generators, I was able to drive around and see what was happening in my old stomping grounds.
By this point in the late afternoon/early evening, the fire was licking at the edges of the Western Area and ash and embers were beginning to rain down in ever increasing amounts. The fire also was creating its own weather and the winds were howling at a ferocious 50+ miles an hour. I saw Governor Johnson and was told by one of his security personnel that while they were driving down Sandia Loop the Governor had demanded that they stop the car and had jumped out and personally stomped out a fire that was burning in somebody’s front yard. This was a harbinger of the terrible night that lay ahead for all of us.
While the evacuation was “mandatory”, not everybody had evacuated and I saw and stopped to chat with several men that were busy chain sawing down large trees in theirs and their neighbors yards, clearing debris from around houses, and hosing down as many roofs as their hoses could reach. I offered all of them a ride out of the Western Area, but all declined and were determined to stay and save as much as they could.
As the evening turned into night, the fire swept into the townsite and houses began to burn. Some of them were burning in clusters and some were burning by themselves, set on fire by the falling embers. Most of the organized firefighting effort at this point was where the fires were the worst, on Arizona.
I parked my Humvee by my childhood home on the corner of 47th and Sandia and started walking down Ridgeway where I could see a house on fire about midway down the hill. The fire was burning in Pueblo Canyon behind Ridgeway and was creeping up into the backyards of these houses. As I made my way down the road, I encountered a man on the roof of his house spraying his roof and as much of his neighbor’s roofs on either side of him as his garden hose could reach.
It was obvious that things were about to get much worse and I strongly encouraged him to come off the roof and to come with me. Like the others, he politely declined, and I told him I would continue to check on him throughout the course of the evening. His determination to save his home may have been foolhardy but his bravery was undeniable, and I’ve thought about him countless times over the years.
By the time I got about two thirds of the way down Ridgeway, I started hearing an awful, loud, creaking, moaning sound. It took me a second to realize that the houses on the northside of Ridgeway were literally super heating and then one after another, they began to burst into flames. Within seconds the houses were completely and utterly engulfed in flames and were a total loss. The flames coming out of the tops of these homes were HUGE and there were moments when the wind blew particularly hard where the flames were literally blown horizontally across Ridgeway into the yards on the south side of the street.
One after another the houses burst into flames and I had neither a radio nor cellphone on me. I saw firefighting trucks traveling north on Diamond toward the Arizona Street fires and I ran the rest of the way until I reached the road and frantically began waiving my arms to get their attention. One by one they literally drove past me either not seeing me or deciding that they needed to get where they were going unencumbered. After failing to get anybody’s attention I determined that more aggressive action was needed, and I stepped onto Diamond and blocked the next truck that came down the road.
While I don’t recall which unit it belonged to, I do remember that it was a firefighting unit from one of the Pueblos. Once they stopped, I went to the driver’s side window and told them they needed to turn left and head up Ridgeway and keep the fire from jumping the road and possibly racing through the rest of the Western Area. He insisted that he had to go to the Arizona Street fires and I equally insisted that he needed to head up Ridgeway. He got on the radio, chatted with somebody, and then agreed to follow me up Ridgeway.
He was quickly joined by additional trucks and while they were not able to save much on the north side of the street, they were able to hose down the yards and houses on the southside of the street and keep them from going up in flames. This small diversion on their part likely saved dozens of homes and I am forever grateful that they didn’t run me over!
In between guiding the generators to the pumping houses, I was told to take or pick something up (can’t recall which) from the County or Lab EOC. By now, it was pitch dark, the entire mountain was on fire, and dozens if not hundreds of homes were visibly on fire.
After accomplishing what I needed to do I started heading back to my Hummer when a lady came running out of the EOC and physically grabbed my arm. She asked, no begged me to take her to her home in the Western Area as she had been at the EOC when the evac order had been issued and didn’t have time to return to her home to get her cat.
By now, no civilian vehicles were allowed on the road, it seemed like the entire town was going to go up in flames, and she was desperate. While I was a bit worried about taking a civilian into the heart of the fire, it was clear that she was very upset and needed help. On the way to her home, which I now believe was on 41st or 42nd, I told her to just run in, grab Fluffy or whatever the cat’s name was, and come back out ASAP. She was a trooper and did exactly that. Within minutes, she and her caged “Fluffy” were back in the Hummer and we were on our way back to the EOC. While dogs are supposed to be man’s best friend, that cat was lucky to have an owner that cared for it that much!
We next headed to the pumping station by the Golf Course where I was shocked to see dozens (or more) cars parked all over the greens. Whoever had that idea was a genius! No matter how bad the fires got, they weren’t going to burn those cars up on the middle of a golf course green! By now, everybody’s faces were black as coal and all you could see were their eyes and teeth. While I was waiting there while the generator bubbas did their critical work, I heard somebody say “Jason, is that you?”. I looked into the soot blackened face of a man standing there and recognized a very dear friend of mine from high school, Daryl Hastings.
Daryl worked for (and still does) the LA County Water Department and he and his colleagues were doing the same thing our troops were … trying to keep the water flowing for the firefighters. We had a wonderful, “battlefield reunion” right there on the spot and I saw him and his incredibly hard working colleagues often during the next 10 days I was in LA. They were one of many groups of unsung heroes that worked their tails off to keep Los Alamos as whole as possible.
The remainder of that night and the next day was a blur. The entire mountain burned along with hundreds of houses. I’d never seen or experienced anything like that before and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave a mark.
When the sun finally came up, the devastation was unbelievable. The mountains I’d grown up looking at every day, the local trails that I’d hiked countless hundreds of times, my friends and/or their parents’ homes, all burned to the ground. Every face black with soot and eyes rimmed red from the horrid smoke and unrelenting wind. It was a very tough 24 hours.
At some point on the 11th or 12th I was given the additional duty, due to my knowledge of the townsite, of guiding press around to see the damage and talk to the soldiers, firefighters and other public servants that were still working courageously to preserve and restore the town. I remember feeling down about the whole scenario and when one of the reporters I was escorting asked me what it was like, I said something like “like Dresden” and “Dante’s Inferno”. The “like Dresden” quote was on the front page of the paper the following day and “Dante’s Inferno” made it into a subsequent article. Lesson learned was be careful what you say when you haven’t slept in days!
In the following days, the primary focus became getting the townsite prepped so that people could begin returning to their homes. There were powerlines laying all over the roads along with fallen trees, burnt cars, and of course hundreds of destroyed homes.
Some of my memories from this time period include seeing dozens of pets wandering around lost and occasionally injured. They were totally disoriented by the devastation the fire had caused and weren’t sure where their homes had gone. Everybody did their best to scoop these animals up and Animal Planet (I believe) sent the coolest truck I’ve ever seen. As I recall, it was an 18 wheeler where the sides of the trailer rolled up to expose dozens of individual cages. These lost pets were examined then photographed prior to being put in a cage where they could eat and drink. Their photos and collar info were then put online somewhere so that people could ID and eventually recover their pets.
I remember going to the fire station by the Hilltop House where Walmart and other major companies had donated tons of supplies for the first responders. There were giant cardboard bins full of everything from new toothbrushes to underwear to deodorant, etc. Some of the firefighters were literally just stripping off their dirty and worn out clothes and chucking them in the trash and putting on new t-shirts, socks, etc., prior to heading back out. Those men looked harder than woodpecker lips and I admired them greatly.
I accompanied the New Mexico National Guard’s Adjutant General (at the time) Randy Horn down to the Pojoaque High School parking lot where the US Postal Service had set up an outdoor mail distribution center for the residents of Los Alamos. You simply got in a line according to your last name and they gave you your mail.
Lining the outside of the parking lot were RV’s and other vehicles from the major insurance companies. I clearly recall seeing people lined up at the station of their home insurance company and them handing out cash to people so that they could cover their immediate costs of food, lodging, etc. People can criticize insurance companies all they want but I personally witnessed them comforting and reassuring their customers and being very generous with cold hard cash that day. That was the first time I’d seen any of the evacuated residents of Los Alamos and there were many sad and shell shocked faces to be seen. It was heartbreaking.
Prior to letting the citizens of Los Alamos back in, the authorities wanted to give those who had lost their homes to the fire a chance to see their homes before they did any demolition work on them. A chance for some closure. An attempt was made to thoroughly catalog and list the houses that were lost, and this list was published. Those that had lost their homes were told to meet at the New Mexico National Guard’s Regional Training Institute (RTI) outside of Santa Fe where they were going to be loaded on school buses and taken up to Los Alamos.
A route was created that went by every destroyed home in town so that all the buses could make sure that their passengers got a chance to see their home. I was on the lead bus and our guidance was that we would stop at the site if the family requested it but that nobody was to leave the bus due to the power lines and other possible dangers still present. While we were to discourage people from getting off the bus, we were not to try to stop them if they insisted.
This was, by far, the most painful and agonizing part of the entire 10 days I spent as part of the Cerro Grande deployment. The mood on the buses was that of a funeral. The caravan would occasionally stop so that a family could see their place one last time. Most would sob quietly and those around them would do their best to comfort them until it was their turn to see their destroyed home and the favor was returned.
There were a few that insisted on getting off the bus and I remember one person throwing themselves on the ground sobbing. The memory of this day is so incredibly painful that I am being blinded by tears as I sit here typing now. While I initially questioned the wisdom of this entire endeavor, I later heard from some of those on this “lost homes tour” that it was important to them that they got to see their places and that brings me some comfort.
One positive story from this otherwise gloomy day was that a dear friend of mine from High School Aaron Dick’s parents were on my bus. Their home had been on the list of destroyed houses as they lived on Arizona. When we got to their home, there it was, standing in all of its glory, untouched by the fire! They let out a great hoop of gratitude and then I remember they immediately reeled it in as all the others on the bus had truly lost their homes. Everybody on the bus quickly rejoiced with them and there was a positive moment for all.
Eventually, the citizens of Los Alamos were allowed to return, and an attempt was made to return to some modicum of normalcy. I remember seeing all of the homemade signs that popped up in people’s yards thanking the first responders. Kids set up stands where they gave out free cookies, lemonade and goodies to guardsmen and other first responders.
Because I didn’t belong to any of the units that were up there, after 10 days, my boss wanted me back at my fulltime military job. As I got ready to leave, our then Deputy Adjutant General, BG Garcia, took me up in a chopper and we toured the town site and surrounding areas from the air. BG Garcia knew this was my hometown and he both thanked me for my contribution and shared some heartfelt and deeply appreciated words for me regarding my “loss”.
I returned to my home in Albuquerque where my then girlfriend had hosted an unknown to us (prior to the fire) Los Alamos family that had been made refugees due to the fire. I never met them in person, but they sent us Christmas cards for years afterwards. I didn’t return to Los Alamos for several years after the fire as it was simply too painful. I eventually made my way back up The Hill and have tried to make it up there at least 2-3 times a year now.
A couple of days ago, I took my now 16 and 18 year old kids up to LA so we could get some fresh mountain air and get a change of scenery during our current crisis, the pandemic. It literally struck me while I was showing them (again!) my old house on the corner of 47th and Sandia that we were just days away from the 20th Anniversary of the fire! I found my old friend Daryl Hasting’s phone number, called him, and we had a mini (and socially distant) reunion in front of my old house!
The years have rolled by and the town is looking much, much better than it did all those years ago on that dark and smoky night…
Sgt. First Class Jason Riley of Los Alamos receives New Mexico Distinguished Service Medal from Brig. Gen. Alex Garcia in 2000 while Col. Mark Dow, center, looks on. Courtesy photo
The story about Sgt. First Class Jason Riley of Los Alamos receiving the New Mexico Distinguished Service Medal for his efforts during the Cerro Grande Fire. Courtesy photo
Sgt. First Class Jason Riley of Los Alamos receives New Mexico Distinguished Service Medal. Courtesy photo