Pyro Scouts of America
When I learned I wanted to become a Boy Scout; or, why all Boy Scouts are pyromaniacs.
It was my first camping trip as a Boy Scout, and it rained all weekend. You may think I’m exaggerating, but rain poured the entire trip. In fact, a stream ran through our floorless tent. Everything Jeff (the other Scout and my bunkmate) and I brought was soaked.
The reason there were only two of us: our troop was just restarting, and Jeff and I were its first recruits. And we were miserable.
The Scoutmasters were desperate. How could they persuade two freezing, wet boys to return? Get something warm and tasty in their bellies. Anyone who’s camped knows food tastes better over a fire- maybe it’s the smoke, maybe something primal. With nothing else working, this was the Scoutmasters’ last resort. To save the troop, they needed to start a fire.
Every Boy Scout learns to start a fire at one point in their journey. To advance, you must light one using no more than two matches. You start with small, flammable materials- moss, pine needles, birch bark, or grass. Next, arrange tiny twigs in a teepee over your kindling. Be prepared with sticks and twigs sorted by size to add as your fire grows.
I’m sure our leaders were former Scouts who knew how to build fires, even with just two matches- they’d probably done it many times. But building a fire is hard- harder still after a weekend of rain, when all firewood and kindling are soaked.
Tonight called for something drastic. Their only chance was smoldering ash from a fire started between downpours. The Scoutmaster drew a red flask, unscrewed the black cap, and poured white gas on the coals.
A flame flickered.
This grabbed our attention. But as soon as the flame danced, it vanished.
The Scoutmaster poured more fuel onto the coals.
A blast of flames erupted from the ground.
Jeff and I exchanged a glance. “Wow!” But the rain beat down the flames.
It wasn’t working. Desperate, the Scoutmaster tried one last time, pouring a big stream of fuel on the coals.
Now THAT’s a FIRE! I immediately felt better- the flame was roaring.
Then the flame shot up the stream to the bottle. Our Scoutmaster waved it quickly, just as you might with a lit match, hoping to put the flame out. But it didn’t. Instead, the bottle sprayed flames through our campsite like a flamethrower!
After running to stomp out the flames, I was sold. If this is Scouting, I’m in!
Several years later, Jeff became the first Eagle Scout of our new troop. I followed a few years later.
And I’ve been a pyromaniac ever since.