Face of Defense: Airman Leads Oregon Forest Fire Rescue

By Air Force Staff Sgt. Daniel Phelps, 349th Air Mobility Wing

TRAVIS AIR FORCE BASE, Calif., Sept. 18, 2017 — Air Force Reserve Tech. Sgt. Rob Dones was simply out for a 4-mile hike Sept. 2 when a giant plume of smoke from a raging forest fire turned a casual date into a rescue of more than 140 people over more than 22 hours.

Dones, originally from Chicago, is assigned to the 349th Medical Squadron here as a surgical technician.

The eight-year veteran decided to go on a hike around the Eagle Creek Trail in Mount Hood National Forest near Portland, Oregon. A friend named Cassie accompanied him on what would turn out to be an interesting first date. They made a stop at Punchbowl Falls, and on their way back, Dones noticed a cloud of smoke erupting behind them.

"I rushed up to a viewpoint and saw the flames on a trail about a quarter mile away from us," he said. "I doubled back down and started shepherding people out."

As Dones helped to guide about 150 people away from the swimming hole, he happened upon Aaron Hamilton, a six-year wildfire veteran, who had a GPS device. Dones then found a cellphone with reception, made contact with the sheriff's office, and received guidance on what to do to get everyone out.

"It was nothing to play with," Dones said. "The whole valley was on fire, and it was moving faster than I've ever seen a fire move."

Hamilton advised everyone what to expect from the fire and how to stay safe. "It was pretty aggressive fire behavior," he said. "We needed to make rational decisions."

Guiding Hikers to Safety

Dones and Hamilton took a head count to help ensure everyone made it out. With his fire experience and GPS, Hamilton took the lead while the Air Force medic stayed at the back to help anyone struggling during the overnight escape from the inferno. "Once we got out of the Punchbowl area, I felt like we were out of the main fire danger," Dones said.

The risk was not completely gone. While the group trekked, small brush fires sparked up around them, Dones said. Fortunately, one of the hikers was quick to rush and stomp one fire out before panic could ignite in the group. "The smoke was pretty heavy the whole time," Dones said. "You couldn't really see more than 15 feet in front of you at a time. At night, you could see the glow behind us and in front of us."

The trail itself could also prove treacherous at times, said Peter Ames Carlin, one of the hikers, who was there with his family. The river canyon is generally steep and rocky, he explained. The trail is thin in most places, and at times towered more than 100 feet above the water that was carved into the canyon walls, either on solid rock or, in other places, loose stones. At particularly dangerous spots, chains are embedded in the wall so there is something to hold on to as people creep above the water and jagged rocks below.

As they hiked, searching for a way out, UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters buzzed overhead, but the terrain made it impossible for them to land and evacuate people. "The trees were too tall for them to get to us," Hamilton said. "People got pretty miserable when they weren't able to drop supplies, either."

Most of the people had come to the Columbia River Gorge for swimming or small hikes, so they were ill-prepared for a 22-hour excursion, Carlin said. Most of the hikers were young and strong, he added, at least one person suffered from diabetes, and a woman with asthma was having a tough time with the thick smoke in the air. One couple had a baby and a 2-year-old toddler.

Stepping Up

But, the reserve airman stepped up to the challenge of managing the diverse group. "Dones is the man who held us all together throughout our long, dangerous journey away from the fires and into safety," Carlin said. "When we needed a leader to give us information, direction, and a perpetual confidence to enact a plan of action that would lead to safety, he was the man who stepped up, took the burden on his shoulders, and made it seem easy."

Hamilton echoed the impact Dones had on the group. The Air Force Reserve medic ran up and down the line, ensuring it stayed as tight as possible and encouraging people along the way, he said.

Dones shrugged off the praise.

"I don't feel like I did that much," he said. "Other people helped. I just kind of kept us on track."

Most disagreed with Dones' assessment of his role. "I was willing to fill in a role and help," Hamilton said. "Dones was the assertive one we needed."

Carlin insisted that Dones was a hero.

"I'm talking about hardwired character [stuff] --he heroism some people do, not out of a sense of obligation or self-enhancement, but because their cells won't allow them to do anything else. People who act, usually reflexively, without giving it a thought," he said. "And in this case, Rob did it while in the midst of a first date."

It was a first date intended to be a day hike, but lasted much longer.

As evening set in, and without communication with anyone for several hours, the group came upon a forest ranger named Sharon. She had a radio with her, established contact with the Forest Service, and guided the group to a clear place to hunker down for the night.

"We bedded down, in a manner of speech, at about midnight and tried to get some sleep," Carlin said. "It didn't come easily. All of us were crowded into a relatively small space. Fortunately, it would be a warm night, but even temps in the 60s is pretty chilly when you're sleeping in the dirt. So, even when our family huddled together for warmth, we were all shivering."

Relief came when Dones' voice cut through the chill before dawn with, “‘Up and at 'em! time to move out!’" Carlin said.

The group trudged on, mile by mile, through the early hours of the morning, greeted by cheery forest rangers encouraging them to finish strong, Carlin said. Finally, they reached safety. Food and buses waited to take people away.

Dones brought in the last of the hikers. He had spent the last hours of the journey doing exactly what he'd done from the beginning: walking up and down the line, checking on folks, joking with them, keeping them moving and making certain everyone got out safe and sound.

"Ultimately, that was Rob Dones' greatest act of heroism," Carlin said. "He didn't save anyone's life. What he did do was even greater. He had made all of us believe that we could and would save ourselves." As for Cassie, Dones said there will be more dates.