As the County Fire tore through Northern California this summer well on its way to burning 90,000 acres in Napa and Yolo Counties, Harley Ramirez got a call. The 132nd Multirole Bridge Company of the California National Guard was heading toward the blaze, and Sergeant First Class Ramirez was being put in charge. His team’s mission: help the California Department of Forestry and Fire
Protection, better known as Cal Fire, get its people, equipment, and supplies to the front line by building a floating bridge across a river in Cache Creek Regional Park. As quickly as possible.
Before long, Ramirez was watching a truck called a common bridge transport slide a folded up pile of metal into the river, where it unfurled itself in two splashy steps, a piece of origami reverting to its original state. The suddenly flat slab of aluminum floated on the surface, held in place by ropes gripped fiercely by Ramirez’s soldiers. This was the first piece of the improved ribbon bridge the 132nd had come to here to build, a Lego-like thing that would save California’s firefighters vital time in their efforts to contain the County Fire, and provide them an escape route should they have to fall back.
The
132nd is just one of many military units around the country and planet
trained to install this sort of floating, temporary bridge, meant to
last a few weeks and move supplies and people when war or natural
disaster nix standard engineering solutions. This variety of
bridge—designed by General Dynamics European Land Systems—has bridged
the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers as American soldiers invaded Iraq in
2003, helped workers get cranes and oil booms into the Gulf of Mexico to
contain the 2010 Deepwater Horizon oil spill, and stretched across
Poland’s Vistula River during NATO’s training exercise, Exercise
Anakonda, in 2016. And as Hurricane Florence continues to flood the
mid-Atlantic, they’re being readied to move emergency personnel and
relief supplies into the river-surrounded town of Georgetown, South
Carolina.
Any improved ribbon bridge is made up of
two types of bays, essentially big floating rectangles. The ramp bays,
which have one sloped side, will connect to each shore. The interior
bays go in between them; their number depends on how long a bridge
you’re making. Each is 22 feet long, weighs about 13,000 pounds, is made
of aluminum, and floats the same way a pontoon does. Usually, the crew
launches one of the ramps into the water first, using that common bridge
transport, which backs up to the water and uses a crane arm to slide
the payload off its flatbed. They usually angle this first piece of
equipment upstream, so it’s out of the way as they drop the other bays
drop into the water.
For
easier transport on land, each bay is folded up like a ‘W’. Once on the
water, it unfurls with a splash, and crew members in bridge erection
boats—essentially high performance tugs—nudge it into position. Once two
bays are lined up, the soldiers dash over to lock them in place. They
start by using supersized hex wrenches to drop heavy duty pins, 2 inches
round, into a set of interlocking loops. Then they deploy the “dog
bones,” the spring-loaded dumbbell-shaped locks that span the two bays,
fitting into a special groove. Meanwhile, the landlubbing crew members
use cables to anchor the ramps, usually sinking them into the ground or
tying them to trees. And that’s about it.
Uninstalling
an improved ribbon bridge is about a simple as setting it up. Unlock
the bays, push them to shore, and use that crane-wielding boat to winch
them back to dry land, in the process folding them back into that
W-shape. Then put them away until the next time someone needs a bridge
over troubling waters.
“It’s a hasty way of making
a bridge,” says First Lieutenant Colin Francis, formerly of the 132nd,
who took part in the Cache Creek build. An effective one, too. An
improved ribbon bridge can support 70 tons or more—enough to carry an M1
Abrams tank—and is solid enough that you’ve got to drive across in a
semi-truck to feel it move in the water.
In ideal conditions, a trained crew can build a
100-foot bridge (that’s with two ramp bays and three interior bays) in
about 12 minutes. “Ideal” here means calm water that’s at least two feet
deep, with a shallow bank and plenty of room to maneuver. But war zones
and natural disaster areas are not what you’d call ideal conditions, so
the 132nd Multirole Bridge Company trains for as many situations as
possible. Not that they can prepare for everything.
Even
before dropping that first bay into the river, Ramirez knew his team
had a problem. They were working around an existing bridge (built in
1930 and no longer rated to support the heavy duty equipment Cal Fire
needed to move), and didn’t have the space to deploy the bridge erection
boats that maneuver the bays into place. The crew had started by
hanging onto the bay with ropes, but in an unhelpfully swift current,
they were losing the tug of war.
Then they saw the
bulldozer Cal Fire had brought to the crossing, and changed the plan.
The soldiers tied the ropes onto the machine and stepped back. Then the
contractor who’d come up to drive the thing hopped in the cab and
carefully moved forward and back, easing the bay—and the next four—into
just the right spot. No bridge erection boats, no problem.
“We
have no training to bulldoze a bridge into place,” Francis says. But
they are trained for improvisation and flexibility—to do whatever it
takes to build what needs building. The unusually complex build took
them just a few hours. Hardly a record for the 132nd, but fast enough to
let CalFire get its equipment and manpower where they had to be that
very night.
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