"Victoria's worst fears have been realised today..." - Ch 7 News.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7klZ3_F6ekI)
I woke up suddenly at 6am. Despite a restless night sleep, I wasn’t tired though…I think adrenaline and fear had started.
I’m not ashamed to admit fear. Fear is human and natural. Only a born imbecile would not be afraid to face what I felt was coming – and anyone who claims they were not afraid is either lying or very psychiatrically unwell. I don’t want either to ever fight a fire with me.
I felt a strange mix of emotions that morning as I sat on the edge of my bed, deciding what to do after having decided sleep was no longer an option. I was told I didn’t “have” to standby at the station for the day – as long as I could respond – but I knew I’d do little else all day but be on edge. Needless to say, I wouldn’t have been very nice company this day – withdrawn and anti-social to say the least and probably short tempered and tense at best. Understandable, really...at least, I think.
I wandered through my house completely aimlessly for a while...I don't know how long, all I could think about was a deep feeling of dread - that today was "the day" that this time bomb would finally explode. I looked outside regularly, quietly noting the wind was picking up constantly, trees bending and loose items flying everywhere - like a storm but, without a hint of rain. The sky was perfectly blue and clear - no hint of smoke anywhere. YET. But the heat was incredible...for early morning, the sun was already blazing down.
I tried to force myself to relax...talking to myself, telling myself just to get through today and a cool change should come - that "you know what it's like, we get worked up about nothing in the fire brigade...it's all preparation for a non-event." I tried to rationalise my concern - comparing it to a post terrorist attack exercise I'd been in, in Melbourne - preparing for a massive worst case that "never" happens.
But...I'm not stupid. I knew deep inside that I couldn't compare it to the risk of an isolated attack. What I'd practiced for in Melbourne could be headed off by the diligent work of the police and national security. But what I knew was looming today was at the mercy of Mother Nature - a major terrorist attack for instance would require planning, logistics, all manner of things. Today? All today's disaster would require was a spark and I was acutely aware of that.
I must admit, I was concerned out of cynicism. My several years in fire/rescue had shown me how...frankly, blatantly STUPID people can be.
I'm going to go out on a limb here but I need to state this, as it's going to be something I'll be saying a LOT about later on. It's an unresolved issue that resulted in many of the deaths from this disaster and, I believe, will strike again.
It's an unresolved, infuriating issue that fucking politicians and a too-sensitive public refuse to face head on. We live in a strange world now, where we'd rather risk deaths as opposed to publicly offending someone.
The issue is - public ignorance and poor preparation.
There are only so many ways we, as firefighters, and jointly, as a fire service and with government and media, can spread the message. There is only so much we can dumb it down. The point is - if you live in a bushfire prone area, you need to be READY yourself. You need to know whether you will stay or go - without being told. If you are to stay, you need to be ready to defend yourself. If you go, you need to work out where to and when to leave without being told. You need to be able to be aware of the threat without internet/radio/television.
And most of all...as I feel like saying so many times, for Christ's fucking sake, be careful with fire. Yes, a single match might not start your gas stove - but on the right day, it CAN start a bushfire. (Yes...someone actually argued that point with me once - how can a match start a bushfire when my stove won't start with one. She was dead serious...)
But, I'll drop that for now - much more on it later...
However, my mind was running fast with all kinds of thoughts. Knowing that there were thousands of people out there - if not hundreds of thousands - in direct threat on this day. Knowing that only a few of us, or at least, I believed, inherently understood the very REAL threat.
Knowing that as a weekend, many of those living in the high risk areas were not in towns and cities at work or school but at home.
Knowing that as a weekend, there was a higher chance of some DIY handyman taking his tools outside to do a "quick" job that might well create sparks...
Knowing there was a higher chance that the idiots would be out on country roads, ignoring all warnings to not travel - and with this, a higher risk of a loose cigarette butt out a window...
Knowing every hour, a passenger train left from both ends of the train lines to Bendigo, Ballarat, Geelong and Traralgon alone - and further afield, trains to Adelaide, Sydney, Warrnambool, Ararat & Echuca were running, as normal, all day.
(Why trains? Simple. Sparks. Trains are notorious in Victoria for having started grass fires).
Knowing that a hot summer day in Victoria with a pending cool change often, if not nearly always, means thunderstorms and lightning strikes.
Knowing that there were children out there free of school for the weekend...and previous experience had proven that simply, fires started by children peak on the weekends...
Knowing there were who-knows-how-many unhinged individuals and previous arsonists who've never been caught and charged - out there. Some of them, sadly, previous firefighters. I hoped to God that those who had any appreciation for the day would know that even for them, it was just too horrendous a day to consider such a crime...but then again, that thought of mine was from a rational brain and their brains are not so...
Knowing that so many people in the state were STILL ignorant of what a total fire ban (TFB) actually meant, and how it meant NO barbecues.
Knowing especially how many people out there just simply underestimate fire. I have lost count of how many "innocent rubbish burnoffs" I was called to, that got out of hand and burnt down sheds, houses, land - all because the person responsible was so sure he'd be able to control it - after all, he's only lighting one single pile of rubbish...no? And how some people just think, frankly, that a TFB doesn't apply to them. (Yes...it happens. More on that later).
Most of all knowing...there is no way to stop these factors. Some are human. But some were completely beyond our control too...and even the human ones, well, imagine the public outcry if we decreed a complete curfew?
No...I decided. There is no way I can stop this. I found strange solace in this thought - my anxiety melted a little. A fatalism - if it is to be, it is to be...I cannot stop it. So I must accept it.
I cannot stop it starting - I just have to do what I can when it does.
After all, I rationalised, trying to prevent this is like being Atlas! Trying to carry the world on my back...
But who says it will happen? Just because the potential is there...I rationalised this thought again by thinking such thoughts as "every time I drive, there is a potential for a fatal road accident but I'm still alive. Every time I flick a light switch I could be electrocuted - but ditto. So just because there is potential today..."
Yet my mind just wouldn't accept no as an answer!
I tried to distract myself. A friend rang me, somewhat anxious about the day so I channelled my energies into reassuring her. Television couldn't hold my attention. Even simple pleasures like a weekend game of golf were unappealing and not just due to the foul weather.
I seemed subconsciously attached to my pager. Strange, really...it was like this little black electronic box, just the size of my palm and with a small orange-lit screen...sitting there silently.
Like some prophet of doom, I thought to myself, half smiling at the abstract thought of how some mass-produced, inert, unthinking electronic box could hold such a grip on me on this day.
Be the herald angel of disaster with its tone?
Or stay silent...and let the world sleep safe that night...?
I couldn't let go of the thing! I had set it for a distinct tone for different messages - a piercing shriek for emergencies, a less urgent warble for "non emergencies" (such as SES flood/storm assistance - I'm an SES member too) and a different tone again for the daily flow of administration - the mundane "meeting tonight" and "who the fuck lost the fire truck keys" messages. I'd also set it to vibrate on emergency only - an extra feature to grab my attention. It tended to vibrate a few seconds before the tone became audible...on this day, the person I was talking to when the call came through said my face changed from normal to a look of shock and concern just before she heard the tone too...(I felt it start vibrating and just knew).
It was strange that day. Every few minutes of silence, I was compelled to look at it until I forced myself not to. I kept thinking I felt it vibrating on my waist - freezing for a moment until no tone was heard and I knew it wasn't so. I guess now, symptoms of how tense I was. On the day though, it was just frustrating - emergency callouts were a daily (usually, several times a day event) so to hear the emergency tone sounding was normally akin to hearing a phone ring - just a matter of "ah, fuck it, not again". Nothing to stress about...not after several years of daily callouts.
I decided in the end that misery loves company, so I'd head to the station. Being home alone was not its usual therapeutic joy but instead decidedly frustrating - and I decided being ready at the station and partly dressed in my fire gear was the way to go - cut down response times. Maybe I could do something useful there...?
So along I went. I remember the ominous feelings growing as I drove through town. It was so quiet - a normally busy city on Saturday morning, it seemed to be running at one-fifth of normal - and I knew that partly, it was the oppressive heat and - by this point - howling winds - keeping people inside. The other part, I instinctively felt, was fear of the unknown...but whatever it was...people were not out.
The wind was unbelievable at this point. Waiting at the traffic lights, I could hear it howling and whistling outside and into the tiniest gap in my car, shrieking through it like the car was a sieve. Leaves and dust flew down the street and the sky was gradually seeming to loose its charming blue and turn a lacklustre greyish-red as dust and topsoil from farms literally hundreds of kilometres away in the Mallee region of the state was whipped into the air and blown ferociously southwards by the unrelenting north winds. Even traces of reddish sand were appearing which I knew was from as far north as Mildura and New South Wales - being just forced south by the wind. The few people walking in the street were struggling against it, holding hats down with both hands and clutching at handbags.
As I drove through the CBD to the fire station on it's south east side, I looked out at people just trying to overcome the weather and go about their business. Children taking innocent joy and curiosity at the wild winds and blowing dust. I felt a strange pang of jealousy...thought to myself "how simple life used to be as a child." I mean...did I ever think of fires then? Never, except when the firemen visited school or kindergarten.
I smiled for a moment, thinking of how I could never have known I'd be one of them, after years ago, looking at them with some kind of trepidation and wondering who these strange men were?
It was a strange feeling. A mixture of jealousy for their innocence and freedom...but then, a wave of sympathy - thinking "they have no idea what might be literally hours from hitting us..." and a desire to do my best to help protect the people I was passing. After all...that was why I joined the fire service. To push myself and protect the public...look after them.
I liked being an anonymous guardian.
I reached the station and as I parked, was not greatly surprised to see the engine bay doors already partly open, a few fellow members going over the truck with checklists and stocking up extra bottles of water, protective blankets, pulling down the window fire shields in the cab to make sure they worked, testing sprays and low water alarms.
All wildfire based preparation...all of which had been done but was being double-checked.
Interestingly enough...the men completely ignored the platform, two pumpers and BA van...but I knew why. The platform (ladder truck), pumpers and BA van are for urban structural firefighting and hazardous materials incidents. On this day...these were not the concern. A normal day would entail checking over each of them, making sure BA sets were online and your personal mask was clean. and free of leaks. But I knew on this day that if houses were burning - there would be no using BA - as we wouldn't have a chance to even get inside...
I greeted one of my colleagues - a new, young and rather enthusiastic guy. I won't use his name, just D. We've stayed in touch to this day and for a new firey, I was impressed at his drive and motivation - and his maturity and abilities. He had been assigned to my care for the day should something start...so I took him aside. We both went to a quiet end of the engine bay and simultaneously lit up cigarettes.
D spoke first...asking me quietly what I was thinking.
I responded with "Mate.......I really don't know. All I hope is today is over sooner rather than later".
He pushed a little...asking what I thought would happen. How bad it would get. I didn't know how to answer so all I said was..."mate...just stick with me if it kicks off, okay? If you end up on a different crew...say I sent you and you are new. If you come with me, I'll make sure you're looked after. We're all brothers in this service. All I want you to remember is - safety first. If you're not comfortable...speak up. Say so. Look after yourself - because in the real world...a hero is usually a dead hero. Remember...none of us HAVE to be here. We are because we want to. But we have the right to go home". I paused.
"A dead hero saves no one" I finished off, bluntly.
Outside, it was now mid-morning. The wind was still increasing in strength to the point at which it was literally forcefully rattling the heavyset steel/perspex doors to the station engine bay. Looking outside, the sky had turned strangely darker - like cloud but not quite - it was too...off colour for that.
I quickly realised again it was massive clouds of dust and dirt. Whipped up from the parched top soil of failing farms hundreds of kilometres north and being THROWN south by the shrieking winds. Shrieking might sound like an overstatement - but it was how they sounded. High pitched and intense.
The temperature was steadily rising despite the strange cloud cover and was intensely hot - the ground baking outside. You'd step outside for only a short time and not even sweat - it was just evaporated. Stepping outside in full fire gear was an invitation to feel nauseaous in minutes.
I left the engine bay and went to the watchroom. Our comms operator, C, was there as always - with her usual unwavering dedication and professionalism. I looked over her shoulder at several computer screens, bringing up up to the minute weather reports, reports from fire towers around the state and our region and continuous links to regional offices, Vicfire dispatchers and the like...
C turned around, half smiled - but I could see the worry in her face. "So far...so good" she reported softly - but I could tell she wasn't confident in that staying that way.
We chatted briefly about the situation statewide. A still out of control bushfire was burning in the Bunyip state forest, south east of Melbourne but information on it was unclear and although the day had pushed it - there was no report (yet) of further spread. The fires the previous week in Gippsland had not yet flared up...and the state incident summary was so far reporting little except the usual occasional false alarms, a road rescue in the outer metro area and a controlled structural blaze in west Melbourne.
So far...so good...but it's only 10:15am.
That thought came as a bit of a shock. Realising the day hadn't even reached it's hottest point yet. The fire station's own weather station was reporting winds now steady around 80km/h and gusting up to 120km/h...and the temperature was over 46 degrees Celsius. The pressure was mounting...
At 10:21 am, the steady movement around the fire station ground to halt with the piercing squeal of 20 pagers sounding for an emergency in unison. No one wanted to be the first to look...fearing that this was "it", it'd started. But fortunately, C was game to observe hers and called out almost with tangible relief that it was "just an alarm, guys!". Still a job - a fire alarm activation at a large complex on the south west edge of the city.
But...Christ, did I feel the relief run through my chest. I could swear to this day my blood ran cold when I first heard the pager...and my heart only restarted with news that it was "just an alarm". Of course, an alarm could still signal a potential real fire...and a heavy firefight in a seven-story building on this day was hardly going to be easy - but at that point in time, ANYthing was better than the breakout of wildfire. I changed quickly, hands still slightly shaky at the shock of the pager and the relief, into my structural gear and we responded as normal to the alarm.
It was only on the way out of the station, under Code One conditions, we could see the look of genuine concern in people's faces as they stared at the three trucks rolling out. Drivers were remarkable considerate, more so than usual, and people stopped in the streets with a mixed emotion of curiousity and outright worry evident. It only struck me at this point - looking out the window and trying to look reassuring, smile reassuringly to children, that the public was feeling the fear too...
The alarm turned out to be, as we'd expected, false. A smoke detector activated by the blowing dust and grit in the air. We took the usual precautions and searched the building cautiously - aware that, given the alarm had activated on an upper floor, a sudden outbreak of fire there would not only be very difficult to contain but - with the prevailing winds just getting worse, embers would likely spread...but, fortunately, nothing sighted and we returned to the station.
The tension seemed to be getting worse amoungst the crew. Not a word was said on the way back to the station - everyone in their own personal worlds. The driver and I, as senior firefighters in our truck, tried to make small talk and relax the others...but we were met with little more than forced smiles, nods and one-word answers.
Back at the station, time seemed to slow to an absolute grind.
I don't know if you've ever been in a situation like this - but it was hard to describe. I found myself almost laughing at it - gripped with fear and dread of a situation that didn't even yet exist! At least, I thought, it's not public speaking!
Come midday...the tension around the station was unbearable. I was being tempted to virtually chain-smoke and knew there was nothing else I could do. The odd passer by would pull in, walk in and ask questions but I was finding myself becoming impatient and short tempered with them - especially the aggressive farmer who swore and carried on - because - in his view, we should be out preventing fires rather than waiting for them! I didn't have the energy to argue any more than the fact that, well, where would we start? Try to jump on lightning, hey? Spot an arsonist and beat him senseless? So I decided lunch and maybe a visit to a good friend was a good idea.
I partially undressed from my gear - leaving on fire trousers, boots and suspenders and a light shirt. The heat outside was oppressive - I gathered at this point, from our station's weather system, that at the station it had risen to over 50 deg C. The winds were now steady northly at over 100km/h and gusting to 140km/h. I rang my SES controller, to ask him how his day was - but they were similarly tense. Several callouts for roof damage, courtesy of the gale force winds, and waiting to be called to assist for any fire outbreak. I sought my lunch and took it over to SES HQ to join my "other" colleagues - swap stories. The mood was certainly lighter and the relief was just enough for me to settle for long enough to ingest food and a bottle of water...despite the gnawing, gripping tension in my stomach still rising to the point at which I wanted to almost be sick.
I don't know what time I left them to it - somewhere around 1pm, I think - and headed to a friend's house. When I arrived, she was inside and when I knocked, was invited to just "come straight in".
The time was 13:24. Know how I remember...?
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