It began as any normal Saturday in January, the rising sun shining brightly over a landscape still covered in places by the sparkling white of frost and a chill breeze beginning to blow. But beneath this appearance of calm, danger lurked. The climate of Southwest Missouri can be merciless, and this day was no exception.
I had planned to help a buddy of mine place some 2x10s on what would be the floor in the loft of his new barn. On the surface, this seemed a rather benign task, and in my foolishness I agreed to take part not knowing the peril that awaited me. I will be forever thankful that among the items I carried in my pockets that day was a Becker BK-14.
Before undertaking such a task, I knew I had to make preparations. After driving into town and running some errands, I stopped at the corner store in this small town to gather the provisions I would certainly need: one bottle of Cream Soda.
With supplies gathered, I drove out to the barn. I must say at this point that this was no ordinary barn. It was not intended to house cattle, horses, or even hay. It had a more sinister purpose. This barn was built to hold weddings. I had much experience with cattle and hogs, and even some with sheep, but I had never managed weddings. Are they docile or aggressive? Can they be contained by a five strand barbed wire fence or is something stronger required? What do they feed on? I didn’t know the answers to these questions, so I was wary as I approached this strange barn.
I arrived and greeted my friend. He pointed out a small pile scrap lumber and requested… a fire.
My heart sank. Fear gripped me. I had not anticipated building a fire. I didn’t know if I could do it. The only fire making equipment I had was my knife and a mini Bic lighter. How had I gotten myself into this situation? I cursed myself for walking so blindly into almost certain doom. All my training useless. All my preparations for naught. I had drank over half my cream soda on the drive out to that accursed place. I would have to ration what little I had left. All my proper fire starting items, ESEE fire kit, road flares, fatwood, chafing gel, I had stupidly left in my truck, and it was a good 40 yards back to my truck. Furthermore, the nearest road was over 50 yards away, and it was another 300 yards to the closest house. No, help was not coming. I was on my own, and I would have to rely on my own skills and what equipment I had in my pockets.
The realization sank in that I would have to start this fire with only my knife and a Bic lighter. There was a chance it could be done. I had to try. If I failed to start this fire, I might get cold. It was at least two degrees below freezing. If I couldn’t get a fire going, this pile of scrap lumber would not get burned and would continue to lie there in the way, in the way. No, failure was not an option. I forced down my fear, and my panic became an iron resolve, a determination that I could do this. Fate had led me to this very moment to challenge me, to test me, to make me stronger.
I drew my BK-14 from its sheath made from .093 black kydex by AZWelke. Its polished convex edge peeking from beneath the blued surface of its blade gleamed in the bright sunlight, a gleam of hope in this dark time. I gripped its brown micarta handle and began making shavings. I made a large pile of fairly coarse shavings and then began making finer shavings with which to start the fire. All the while praying that the kiln-dried lumber I was using for fuel could be lit by the tiny, fleeting flame of my lighter. I used my knife to split some scrap wood into pencil sized kindling and placed them over the pile of shavings.
I pulled out my lighter, shielded it from the wind, and lit a fuzzstick. The feeble flame clung desperately to its small sliver of wood against the swirling breeze that sought to extinguish it. I transferred the flame to the shavings and urged it to spread. The small flame began to ignite the shavings, and with them, it ignited a hope within me that the shadows of despair could not stand against warmth and light. The flame grew, and with it grew my convictions that all the incomprehensible darkness and chaos of this world could be overcome by determined deeds of virtuous men. The fire roared to life, and I knew beyond any doubt that all things are possible. Against all odds I had made fire.
aaaannnnnnd, go!
