The Mann Gulch Tragedy and the Enduring Lessons for Crisis Management

The date was August 5, 1949, and the place, a remote valley in Montana, USA. This was the setting for a tragedy that would resonate for decades in the annals of firefighting and later serve as a metaphor for the contemporary dilemmas of crisis management. In that fateful summer, in the post-World War II years, an elite group of 16 parachutists, known as smokejumpers, jumped from a height of 2,000 meters—well above the usual—to combat a forest fire in the Mann Gulch area. They were considered the best in the world at their specialty, a true elite force that met its fate in an avoidable disaster.

The irony is palpable: these men, so well-trained, so confident in their individual abilities, had never worked together as a team. To make matters worse, upon landing, their radio—their only means of communication with the outside world—broke, condemning them to isolation in a hostile environment. Even so, instead of military readiness, they decided to stop for a snack. Shortly thereafter, the flames, which initially seemed under control, revealed their most unexpected side, turning a routine mission into a desperate race for survival. Wagner Dodge, the team leader, had a flash of genius—or desperation—and set fire to the ground around him, creating an escape area. The logic was simple, yet daring: burn the fuel ahead to avoid being consumed by the approaching flames. Dodge survived, but thirteen of his men, who did not heed their superior's decision, did not. Only two managed to escape by running toward the valley, ignoring what is now seen as a rational decision by Dodge.

Here, the tragedy transcends the event itself and becomes a parable about leadership, trust, and what we today call crisis management. The smokejumpers' lack of trust in their leader, in the heat of the moment, was the decisive factor. And who could blame them? Asking terrified men to abandon their backpacks and set themselves on fire to survive sounds more like madness than a calculated strategy. However, that "madness" is precisely what saves lives in crisis situations—provided there is trust.

It was on this basis that lawyer Marcelo Rhenius conducted an incisive panel on Crisis Management during ExpoCompliance 2024, extrapolating the lessons of Mann Gulch to the corporate world. In times where crises are the rule, not the exception, a leader’s ability to see what others do not—and act on it—makes the difference between disaster and survival.

In the business environment, just as in Mann Gulch, the human factor is the most unpredictable. Rhenius emphasized that in a crisis, just as in firefighting, the manager must have a clear vision, a robust strategy, and—perhaps most critically—a team that trusts him unconditionally. In organizations that deal with constant crises, such as nuclear plants, it is rigorous training that keeps the flames under control. But what happens when the crisis deviates from the script? When the "radio" breaks and communication is interrupted? When the leader needs to ask his team to do the unthinkable, like setting a fire around themselves?

Here enters the concept of dever de garante (duty of care), where responsibility is not only about what is done but also about what is left undone. A manager, whether superintendent or advisor, has the fiduciary duty to act in the best interest of the organization, but this duty can become complicated—and even conflict—when faced with the need to protect the company from an impending disaster. Rhenius pointed out that in a crisis, the manager must first and foremost observe the problem with a certain detachment—not become emotionally involved immediately—and then act with surgical precision. And, of course, in an irony that few corporate leaders like to admit, often the best survival strategy is to burn what lies ahead to save what remains. Just as Dodge did in Mann Gulch, today’s leaders must be prepared to make drastic and often unpopular decisions. Crises—like a wave—do not forgive hesitation.

The story of Mann Gulch, revisited through the lens of Marcelo Rhenius, is more than a tale of tragedy; it is a lesson in leadership in its rawest form and a warning to all who underestimate the destructive power of distrust and lack of preparation. And who would have thought that the flames of 1949 still burn so intensely in our corporate corridors today?