By Captain Cody Bogan

Daniel Vernon Campbell
1970-2009

On January 14, 2009, Cal-Fire lost a firefighter with a heart of gold. Dan Campbell passed away at Kaweah Delta District Hospital, leaving behind a beloved fiancé, family, and friends.

It is an honor to share my thoughts, stories, and memories of Engineer Dan Campbell with you.

Dan wasn’t just another fireman, he was a great friend and my drinking buddy. Dan was a “fireman’s fireman.” When it came to doing the job he was the best. From pulling ceiling on a working attic fire to firing out a mile of line, he was the go-to guy. When Dan had your Six—“your back”—you knew you were in good hands. Dan had a wealth of knowledge that benefited many of our valley firefighters. From instructing our finest on rescuing a fireman down, in R.I.C. (Rapid Intervention Crew), to teaching “boots” basic firemanship, Dan did it all.

I met Dan at the Firefighter I Academy in Porterville during the winter of 1999. My first impression of Dan was “Wow. This guy is good.” Dan was confident, professional, and most of all, knowledgeable. One time we were working on SCBAs, the self-contained breathing apparatus a fireman wears on his back in a smoky structure. The instructor referred to the air bottle and Dan couldn’t resist. He made it known that firemen get water out of tanks, beer out of bottles, and air out of cylinders. To this day I find myself correcting people on that issue. Dan was a perfectionist—pressed uniforms and polished boots. He was always standing tall.

I’d like to share a couple of stories with you.

In 2001 we both worked as seasonal firefighters for CDF in the summer and as paid call firefighters for Tulare County Fire in the winter. We had been teaching classes that winter for the Tulare/Kings Training officers. Rob Stone, Justin Tashiro, Dan, and I were on lunch break from teaching a R.I.C. class in Porterville. We were in an engine en route to get lunch when dispatchers broke the news that there was a structure fire just down the street. We arrived on scene to find a working room-and-contents fire in the back bedroom of a residential structure. By the time Rob had given his report on conditions, Dan was at the front door waiting to make entry. When I got there he looked at me and asked, “Where’s your tool?” I forgot my ax. I hurried to the engine, grabbed my tool and we went to work. Within thirty minutes we had knocked down the fire and were back teaching class. Later that day, Dan just had to tell the class that I had forgotten my ax.

Dan, I will never forget my tool again!

In winter of 2003 we found ourselves teaching yet another class for one of the local firefighter academies. Dan was dedicated to everything he did, from picking up the portable potties to spending late nights in the garage, constructing building collapse props. It was burn day—the day students got to go into a burning building. We had the rooms prepped and the first group of students was ready. John Crivelo came across the radio, “Fire in the hole!” Class was underway. Everything was going as planned until we got word from the exterior of the structure that the fire was burning in the attic—a dangerous place for it to be and not part of the lesson. We pulled the students out of the building and we went to work. We were pulling down the sheet rock from the ceiling and chasing fire, but the fire was well established in the attic. Every time we thought we were getting ahead of the fire it would back us up. Then the Incident Commander came across the radio and wanted the building evacuated. Dan heard it, but decided to ignore it. We continued to chase that fire. Dan hollered at me, “Pull that ceiling and we can catch it!” Shortly after the IC came across the radio again and demanded that we back out of the structure. Dan looked at me and said, “We almost have it!” Well, we ended up catching that fire. When we came out of the building we were on top of the world … so we thought. Shortly after stepping outside the IC found us and quickly advised us that we would never disobey a direct order again. Dan looked at me and said, “Well sometimes it’s better to beg for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.”

Dan, you were a fireman.

In closing I want to say, Dan was the man, but even more importantly, he was a devoted family man and a dear friend that will be greatly missed by all.

Hey buddy I’ve got three on the counter. … Until we meet again.