Red Flag Warning

Over the weekend, we went to my husband's hometown, the bustling metropolis of Satanta, KS. (By the way, it is pronounced suh-tan-uh.) Really, it is a town in rural southwest Kansas. There are only two incorporated towns in Haskell County and they are eight miles apart. Feed lots and farming are the biggest part of the economy, but natural gas and oil are also important.
I figured the biggest part of the adventure would be traveling 185 miles with a potty training two year old. Thankfully, that part of the trip went off without a hitch. Unfortunately, I was wrong on the big adventure. Due to ridiculously high winds, most of the state was in a red flag warning, meaning extreme fire danger. About noon on Sunday, we heard the fire and ambulance being paged out for a fire in the county, south of Satanta. (The layout of the town is somewhat important to my story.)
Most of the emergency services in the county are volunteer. My mother-in-law is an EMT and my father-in-law just recently retired as the fire chief, but still volunteers. When we lived down there, Michael worked for the sheriff's department and volunteered as an EMT and a firefighter. Our brother-in-law is also a volunteer firefighter. If we are in town visiting, my in-laws try not to go on calls. So when they called my mother-in-law, she said she would go out only if they couldn't find anyone else. She has a hard time saying, "no," but this is one time I am extra grateful she did! That was the first call asking for the family received.
Every Sunday they have family dinner (aka lunch) at their house. Michael's grandparents, his sister and bother, our brother-in-law and nephews always come over. This Sunday was no exception. We could hear the chatter on the emergency radios had been increasing. My brother-in-law, Jeremy, got the second call. His boss called him to drive a county water truck. That's also about the time we were starting to realize the severity of the situation, so Michael and his dad went to help too.
My mother-in-law sent my nephews, ages 4 and 6, out to play in the backyard, while I tried to get Tate and Mayer down for naps (I failed). They quickly came back in telling her a tornado was coming! Here's what they saw:

 If you look at the map, these pictures were taken near the corner of CR-220 and Ojibwa.

 

 

 After I came in from taking the pictures and looking at the smoke cloud, my father-in-law called and told us to start getting ready to evacuate because the fire was getting dangerously close to town. It was just across US Highway 56 and the way the wind was blowing, it wouldn't be long. Local farmers were disking ditches southwest of town, in hopes of preventing it from reaching town.

Picture taken by Kelvin Heitmann and was borrowed from a friend's Facebook page.

Scramble time! My mother-in-law bagged up their medications and we put my nephews' booster seats in her car. I grabbed some diapers and threw them in a diaper bag. Most of our clothes and the diapers were in a laundry basket, which I intended on loading in our truck, but I couldn't find the keys and ran out of time before I found them.Thank goodness for baby-wearing because Mayer got a cat nap in the Moby wrap while I was rushing around.
While we got the boys and grandparents ready (they don't get around very well), my brother-in-law, Mark, went over to his grandparents' house, got their medication and loaded up the dogs in his truck. We were listening to the emergency radio and heard them tell dispatch it was time to evacuate the town. I guess they went through town with a bullhorn, but I was in the bathroom with Tate. (He had pooped on his potty chair while we were gathering up!!) After musical booster seats, we headed out to my sister-in-law's house northeast of town, so the boys would be occupied. This is the view as we headed to her house:

It really does look like a tornado and with 60 mph winds it felt like it too! Normally, you can see the grain elevators and water tower. Just in case you couldn't tell, there are virtually no trees in the area. Trees usually signify a town or farm house. This part of the state is so flat, you can literally see the lights of surrounding towns from miles away. It truly is The Great American Desert; wikipedia even has a picture from Haskell County.
We were in contact with my sister-in-law, Angie, who was in the county tanker with Jeremy and we also had the emergency radio. Shortly after we settled at the farm, but long enough for Tate to have an accident, we were concerned because the wind had shifted and a had started fire burning north of town. We decided to move the troops, including 2 more dogs, one more time to Sublette, just in case. Lucky for us, both of my mother-in-law's siblings live there, so we had some place else to go. The trip took a little longer than usual because the smoke and blowing dirt were so bad I could barely see the front of the truck!
Michael was able to get back to his parents' house about 5:30 to shower and gather the rest of our belongings. We got a much later start back home than we intended. Satanta residents were finally allowed to return home around 8 PM. Several people I know said there was soot and dust inside their houses, but it was one time they wouldn't complain about cleaning.
The area needs moisture desperately! This was just one grass fire in the area over the last week. Their story made national news because an entire town was evacuated. Thank you to all of the emergency personnel from dispatchers to the firefighters on the front lines and anyone else that volunteered to help! You don't always appreciate small town living until something like this happens.