It was a small pillar when I first saw it. Smoke. On the horizon. Not unusual in ranch country. But questionable this time of year, in these drier than ever drought conditions.

The problem with fires out here is you’re never sure if they’re on purpose, accidental or totally unknown. A short while later, that small pillar was bigger. Wider. Not just dark, but white and thick gray. Not on purpose. Tell-tale signs of a grass fire.

I raced to our water tanker, a former milk truck we bought more than a decade ago to haul water to livestock in our last drought. As soon as the air brakes released, I was charging down the road, driving toward the smoke. This truck has an older frame with cracks, pusher wheels that need maintenance and needs new tires all around; she isn’t a firefighting rig and she isn’t built for speed: but she’s got nearly 4,000 gallons of fresh water and a fast gasoline powered pump. Smaller and more maneuverable wildland firefighting rigs haul anywhere from 250-500 gallons, and on a big fire will need refilled more than once – that’s where I come in.

Along the way, lights and dust behind me. Brush trucks. Volunteer Fire Department units, heading the same way I was. I gave them space and they blasted by me.

I arrived at the fire. It wasn’t where I thought. It was on my new rural neighbor’s place, imports from out of state. A burn barrel for garbage, placed out of sight on a 110-degree day, with tall grass around it. Malice didn’t cause the fire. Naïveté of a new lifestyle. One bad decision that will make them more responsible forever, and quite a few acres burned to teach them. Good people sometimes learn hard lessons, they did.

I spotted the Vale Water Tender and pulled up next to it. They were almost empty. Together we kept the small brush trucks in the firefight until it was out. By the time it was, my water tanker was empty, and so was the “real” water tender that hauls 3,000 gallons.

Afterward, I talked with the Vale Fire Chief. He was concerned. Our country is a tinder box waiting for immolation, he said in a few different words. It could get really bad, really quick. He asked if I could make a point to come to more area fires.

That was the day I became firefighter adjacent. I did say I wanted a hat that says “Vale Fire Department” on it. I haven’t gotten it yet, but I’m not letting go of the dream. Get me that hat, Mike.

That was one month ago. Since then I brought my milk truck full of fresh water to support a grass fire started by lightning on my neighbor’s place, a much larger fire started by a cigarette near Bear Butte, and a fourth fire in my own pasture, again by dry lightning. Four significant fires in just a few weeks, and fire season is getting more hostile.

Here’s the part people don’t talk about. Our emergency fire services are primarily volunteer. They’re not paid. They’re not given glory. They’re given a fireproof coat and a job to do, and they do it for their neighbors.

They all have day jobs. But when a fire lights this time of year, what they’re doing comes to a halt and they morph into speeding flashing lights and wet retribution. I can tell you, when that next fire is on your property like it was on mine a few days ago, and you see your neighbors and friends show up to put it out, you feel what community actually is. It’s not a street dance on a Friday night. It’s burning air, sweaty hair, ashen faces and determination behind a water hose as they ride into smoke that blisters their eyes.

What the general population doesn’t realize is that our Volunteer Fire Departments need our help. I’m not saying everyone needs to get an old milk truck and drive to every fire.

But if you’ve got a checkbook and you don’t want to see nothing but ash on the prairie and in the Black Hills, you can cut them a check. Direct donations are a huge part of a VFD’s budget. That money buys equipment, protective gear, fuel- what the VFDs need to make our communities safer.

Maybe you can’t write a check. How else can you help?

Today, when you’re done reading this, figure out who your closest local VFD is. Find out when their next fundraiser is. They’ll be having one.

You’ll ask to volunteer, and they’ll tell you how to help the most. Maybe it’s running a table at a silent auction. Maybe it’s asking business people you know for item donations. Maybe it’s making food to bring.

You might be reading this from a concrete parking lot or in your townhouse too; but here’s the deal- it affects you too. In South Dakota, even if larger towns, YOUR fire services are largely volunteer too, and if that fire outside city limits gets too big – it’s better to see firefighters racing out of town than it is to see them coming back in to evacuate you.

Not every fire needs every person to sprint and drive toward it. But every person who cares about their community can support those who run toward the smoke and not away from it.

Your neighbors, your friends and your family on these VFDs need your help today, not later. So reach out and see what you can do.