I settle into my seat on the media bus trailing the Canadian Forces operations in central Newfoundland. The late August air still carries the acrid smell of smoke from wildfires that have ravaged over 25,000 hectares across the province. But today’s story isn’t about destruction – it’s about the remarkable human response that often emerges in crisis.
As we pull into the makeshift command center outside Grand Falls-Windsor, I spot it immediately: a bright red food truck with a hand-painted sign reading “Thank You Firefighters.” Behind the counter stands Rose Stoodley, wiping sweat from her brow as she flips burgers and assembles fish sandwiches for a line of exhausted emergency responders.
“I wasn’t going to sit at home and do nothing while these folks risk their lives for our communities,” Rose tells me, hardly looking up from the grill where she’s preparing her twentieth batch of the day. “My son-in-law is with the provincial forestry service. When I heard they were working 16-hour shifts with barely a proper meal, well, that was that.”
Rose’s mobile kitchen, usually stationed near popular hiking trails during tourist season, has become a beacon of community spirit. For two weeks, she’s been serving free, hot meals to firefighters, volunteers, and displaced residents – operating entirely on donations from local businesses and her own savings.
The Department of Fisheries and Oceans confirmed that this summer’s drought conditions created the perfect storm for wildfires across Atlantic Canada. Provincial officials report that over 650 personnel, including teams from Quebec and New Brunswick, have been battling blazes that threatened several communities and forced hundreds from their homes.
Fire Chief Martin Peddle accepts a loaded plate from Rose with visible gratitude. “The physical demands of this work are enormous,” he explains between bites of a cod sandwich. “Having hot, home-cooked meals instead of energy bars makes a real difference for morale and stamina. What Rose is doing here – it’s not just food, it’s fuel for the fight.”
The menu changes daily based on donations. Today features fresh cod from a local processor who delivered 80 pounds of fish at dawn. Yesterday, a bakery in Corner Brook sent bread and pastries. A nearby farm provided vegetables. Each meal comes with a handwritten note from local schoolchildren.
“The notes get me every time,” admits Jessica Thornhill, a firefighter from Gander who’s been on the frontlines for nine days straight. She pulls a crayon-drawn card from her pocket that reads: “Thank you for saving our trees and animals. You are my hero.”
Behind Rose’s operation is an impressive community network. Volunteer drivers shuttle supplies from as far as St. John’s. A local propane company keeps her tanks filled at no cost. The regional Canadian Tire donated cooking equipment when her original setup couldn’t keep pace with demand.
“This is just what Newfoundlanders do,” Rose shrugs when I comment on the outpouring of support. “When trouble comes, we step up for each other. Always have.”
The provincial emergency services coordinator, David Parsons, notes that community support like Rose’s makes tangible differences in disaster response. “Government resources are stretched thin during extended operations like this,” he explains. “When communities mobilize support systems like this food truck, it allows us to focus more resources on the actual firefighting.”
Recent polling from Memorial University suggests that 78% of Newfoundlanders have directly contributed to wildfire relief efforts in some way – whether through donations, volunteering, or housing displaced neighbors.
Rose’s initiative has inspired similar operations across the province. In Deer Lake, a restaurant closed its doors to regular business to prepare meals for evacuation centers. In Bay d’Espoir, fishermen coordinated to provide boat transportation for emergency personnel when roads were compromised.
As afternoon turns to evening, I watch Rose tally the day’s numbers in a worn notebook: 267 meals served, supplies for tomorrow secured, donations balanced against expenses. When I ask how long she plans to continue, she looks surprised at the question.
“Until they’re done, of course,” she says, gesturing toward the smoke visible on the horizon. “These people aren’t quitting, so neither am I.”
The next morning, before boarding the media bus back to St. John’s, I stop by Rose’s truck again. She’s already serving breakfast – hearty portions of toutons (fried bread dough) with molasses and strong tea. A firefighter from British Columbia, part of the reinforcement crews that arrived yesterday, stands puzzled before the unfamiliar Newfoundland breakfast.
“Just trust me, dear,” Rose says with a wink, loading extra molasses onto his plate. “This’ll keep you going till suppertime.”
As I leave, I notice a small crowd of local residents dropping off supplies – homemade jams, fresh eggs, and cash donations tucked into an old cookie tin. A community taking care of those who protect them, orchestrated by a determined woman with a food truck and a deep sense of gratitude.
In the face of climate change bringing increasingly severe wildfire seasons to parts of Canada previously less affected, these networks of community support aren’t just heartwarming stories – they’re becoming essential components of disaster resilience.
Rose Stoodley’s red food truck stands as a reminder that in times of crisis, it’s often the simplest acts of care that sustain us. Sometimes, that’s as basic as a hot meal served with gratitude to those on the frontlines.
