These were men as brave as any soldier on a battlefield. As the name implies, this elite squad of "hotshots," who fight the worst fires that a bolt of lightning and a dry climate can conjure, surely have a bit of the adventurer about them.
But like every firefighter, every cop, every soldier -- what matters in the end is that they were individuals driven to extraordinary lengths to preserve the lives and property of their fellow citizens, who understood that every mission might be their last.
The nation remains in mourning for these 19 men. The loss is almost unspeakable, and the colleagues of the crew based in Prescott, Ariz., never stopped rushing to the front lines, summoning superhuman strength to meet their duties, while the rest of us whine about the challenge of a traffic jam.
In the rest of the country we are not unaccustomed to the sudden loss of strong, young men, lost in the prime of their lives in the line of their particular duty, whether in the smoke and flames of a warehouse or to the raging waters of a post-storm flood.
But the scale of this loss, the nation's biggest loss of firefighters in a wildfire in 80 years, is simply staggering.
There are questions that need to be answered; there will and must be an investigation into the mechanics of how an entire company could suffer such a fate, beyond the cruel simplicity of shifting winds. In the same way that past tragedies have led to advances in fighting wildfires, the loss at Yarnell will surely bring similar lessons.
But there will be time for those questions, those lessons, after the mourning is done. For the families and colleagues of those who were lost, of course, that day may never come.
-- Boston Herald