Day One - Into the Furnace...

Again I apologise for anyone following, for this delay.

I'm sure you will understand...but the honest truth is, I've been procrastinating and putting off facing this.

As I said when I first started writing, this is not just an account of the disaster but a form of ongoing therapy for me too. The reality was, leading up to this point, I have now got my thoughts and mental processes in order.

But this point here that I'm about to write about - the moments - hours - of first contact and actually fighting the fire at it's absolute maximum force and intensity - took a bit of mental preparation before I was ready to write about it.

I wanted to think it through again - bring it back into my mind. The WHOLE experience. Not just parts...but the whole thing.

Reality is, this is one of the key points of the hardest experience I've dealt with - and I wanted to be on the ball with what I'm saying...

That all said...time to face it. Share this key part of the story.

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The briefing complete, our driver and navigator were assigned the details of where to go and following whom. I didn't frankly care about those details - they weren't my concern. I was fully engulfed in my own world...a split between trying to comprehend what the fuck was really happening and get a grasp on it, accept that yes, it IS reality and not a dream. Second most was the pragmatic stream of thoughts - the comprehensions of detail of what I was going to do and how I was going to protect myself and my crew.

I was deeply focused. You could have come to me then with a suitcase full of $100 notes and given to me and my attention would barely have flickered away from the task at hand. That's one of my both strengths and weaknesses - sometimes it can take a lot to fully engage my focus but once it's engaged - it stays that way until the problem is solved.

I was seated under the protective shelter on the back of the truck. I even remember clearly that I was on the left...my crewmate on the right. Half mindedly adjusting my fire gear again for probably the millionth time...but this time now, knowing I was heading into it, I was endeavouring to cover every last possible patch of exposed skin that I could. Tightening up cuffs around my wrists and ankles, firmly securing the jacket's broad collar around my neck as high as I could draw it. Trying to spread the smoke mask as far over my face as I could to minimise how much skin I exposed to the fire - knowing that all I needed was a simple barrier between myself and the savage radiant heat to, well, at least, hold off burns. Nothing was going to stop me getting burnt all together but if I could hold it off somewhat and prevent how much. I knew from past experience even small grassfires can throw up a stinging amount of radiant heat and you quickly figure out if you have left any skin exposed, so, preparing to face this, I knew it was vital to my own safety...

In reflection, I think I was trying to focus as much as I could on micromanaging what little I could control because the whole situation - the whole day - was just so unbelievably out of control.

Kind of a primal response...

Like how they say that when a human is badly injured or ill enough, they devolve to a primal existence and communication.

Well similarly...I think...faced by something so threatening and uncontrollable, it seemed natural to retract into myself and try to "block it out" mentally.

There was an undeniable lump of dread in my stomach though as we travelled. The waiting...growing tension was killing me. I just wanted to GET there and get started already...

Suddenly the truck lurched, the driver braking hard and skipping gears down as he swung us hard off the road and down a small side track. Either side of the track were modern brick houses, spaced in a semi-rural manner with moderate trimmed yards. Some were empty - abandoned. Others, the occupants stood out the front - or even on the roofs. All were busy watering down frantically and packing cars and barely glanced at us as we accelerated quickly up the road.

A booming roar was further ahead but it was hard to pinpoint where. It seemed to be everywhere at once.

I didn't realise at that moment but that was the fire itself.

The atmosphere around was now rapidly turning ominous. What was previously higher level smoke blanketing the sky was quickly becoming dense, billowing clouds, enveloping the truck and blocking the road more than a few metres ahead...cutting visibility down to like dusk, despite being only mid afternoon.

It was disturbingly apocalyptic...

The actual moment of first "contact" with the fire itself is kind of hazy. It sounds cliche, but it literally just happened so fucking fast.

One minute, there was a cloud of opaque smoke billowing through the trees, then suddenly...everything was alight. The fire didn't so much "run" across the low grass and vegetation beneath the trees as just engulf it whole - like tsunami of heat and flame.

Everything seemed to slow to virtually stopped. The heat searing through my clothes and feeling like it was soaking into my skin. The sudden clearness of the smoke in it's absence with the flames right there. My bulky hands in their fire gloves, fumbling with the small buttons on the panel of the fire pump, desperately struggling to engage it - forcing the starter button so hard it hurt. For a split second I was almost tempted to punch it but fortunately, my rational brain stopped me.

If you are still reading, forgive me but...I'm really struggling to describe this.

I just can't.

There aren't enough words to do the whole thing justice.

Despite being a baptised Catholic, I'm trying to steer clear of religion. I know the thought crossed my mind several times that there surely cannot be a God in the face of this destruction - and right now, facing the fire itself, it was as if whatever we imagine Hell itself to be had just opened up right there and then.

Frankly, it was terrifying. None of my training and experience could prepare me - or any of us - for it.

I seemed to...shut down somewhat I think. All emotion just vanished from my mind and only a path of clarity remained. I'm not sure if I blocked out the radio or I just couldn't hear it over the chaotic noise. But the only thing that seemed to make sense was to try to stay on my feet despite being thrown forcefully around the back of the truck and try to hang onto one of the two short wildfire hoses and attack the flames.

I didn't even seem to register straight away that we'd pulled up in a cleared area around a house. There was no sign of life at the house, just three tankers from our group - and our driver was doing his best to get to the rain of embers and spotfires, give myself and my partner a chance to extinquish them - then back up to the house and try to protect it.

I started to be overcome with a wave of helplessness. Looking at the sheer size of the fire and the fact that I couldn't seem to see the "top" of it - it just rose up into the sky like a monster. By now, everything was as black as night. The embers weren't just occasionally dropping but were falling like rain and wherever I looked, things all around were igniting, small fires accelerating fast away from the main front, leaving a progressively widening cone of black behind them. The heat was sickening and I had to physically hold my stomach for a few seconds at a time to prevent myself vomiting. Virtually "yelling" at myself mentally that if I gave in to the desire to just pass out that it'd put my whole crew in massive danger.

I think in retrospect it was that desire to a) look after my own guys - and b) to not be defeated that stopped me giving into to the physical torment.

It was a worse pain than I've ever felt. Heat so intense I was no longer sweating. My head pounding and ears in pain from the noise. Yet knowing there was no way I could stop and look after myself - even when I tried, it failed; I spared one hand from the hose to grab a plastic water bottle rolling around on the deck of the truck but as soon as I brought it up to drink from it, it just disintegrated in the heat - the plastic melting over my (fortunately) gloved hands - and I could do little but try to catch what water fell out. When I look at it later it shows how hot it was but I didn't even stop to think about that at the time.

I was concentrating the stream of water in constantly changing directions. Knowing that pointing it at the front was just a waste of time - the spotfires where the threat - and where I could, splashing some water over the house and even down the side of the truck where paint was starting to blister in the inferno.

It feels so surreal to recall it now. For a moment or two, I had a glimmer of hope...that inner voice telling me "it's okay...we're going to save this house" - then a second later - gone...the windows of the house literally EXPLODED outwards but virtually silently - the sound all but masked under the fire. I saw what looked like...well, it's hard to describe but it was like a semi-transparent cloud of vapour - hazy, like fumes at a petrol station...it lasted probably 2, maybe 3 seconds...then seemed to be sucked back into the house and replaced by what can only be described as a fireball. The whole house just ignited - spontaneously combusting immediately.

In hindsight again, I realise now what the vapour was. The thing is, when ANYthing burns, the solid object itself doesn't actually BURN. But it heats to the point of vapourising - and it's that vapour that ignites. Hold a match next to a piece of furniture - the burning that starts is as that little point next to the flame heats to the point of combustion, it breaks down into vapour.

That vapour I saw was the literal vapourisation of the interior of the house - as it heated inside to flashpoint - then exploded as one.

I don't know quite what I felt. Shocked. Numb. I wasn't even distressed or disturbed anymore - I was well and truly past that point where now my mind was numbing the emotions and this horror show to protect my sanity, I honestly believe.

What else could it be...? A perfectly normal, single storey bungalow just exploding into flame a matter of fifty metres away...? Watching the fireball rage - the roof collapsing inwards in a matter of less than a minute - then the walls were gone - engulfed - and all that was present was a ghostly frame, surrounded by fire. Being incinerated.

I tried so hard not to think about it more. Took comfort knowing no-one was home - but trying not to think that I'd just witnessed someone's home...someone's safe place be vapourised and destroyed in just seconds.

Time really seemed distorted. Slowed down. Forcing myself to look away...look back to the ground where the fire was now spreading out, spotting outwards in a ring from the house...trying again to knock down the flames but it just felt so fucking futile all of a sudden...knock one line down, more appear.

Rage built up in me - catching me unaware. I realised I was cursing, virtually bellowing out loud in frustration - catching myself or grunting in pain as the truck lurched over rough ground or changed direction and I slammed again into the protective frame at the front. Feeling a tenderness in my chest and fleetingly, wondering if I'd broken my ribs - the pain numb but shooting out at every movement.

"So fucking what" I thought. SO FUCKING WHAT if I have! A few broken bones won't kill me...and what am I going to do here about it? Fuck all. That's what. Telling myself over and over...building up the wall of anger as resiliance against the pain that'd peak, make me gasp again as I tripped or was thrown around on the back of the truck, sometimes hitting the frame or my colleague. The captain had his window down - pointing and screaming about something - but I couldn't hear what so I mustered all the verbal strength I could to yell back for clarification but it was just no use. My throat burned - every time I spoke or tried to yell, inhaling another lungful of hot smoke and gases then choking on it and feeling it burning inside me.

Knowing it was doing God-knows-what harm to me - but frankly, beyond the point of caring. My body was beyond the point of giving up and I even thought to myself that right then, I couldn't care if I'd died. I just couldn't care anymore. Shouting back to say I couldn't hear was unbearable and my voice started to choke and break in the smoke so I gave up...trying hard instead to expell the hot gases from my lungs and shield my body from being thrown around.

I wanted so badly to tell them to just stop moving but I knew we had to keep going. The firefront itself was imminently there - the leading fires passed and now it was crowning above our heads, a steadily heavier rain of embers and ash falling now - dropping down the back of my collar and burning my neck...starting fresh spot fires.

We had one escape path that would take us to the flank of the fire and we had to get out along there...the other tankers leading, myself and my partner trying to throw as much water as we could at the fire in some futile attempt to do something.

I looked up but then had to look away - what I saw is still burned in my mind. Literally - a horizontal sheet of flame was spanning out across the small clearing - leaping and twisting away above our heads. I threw one arm up so briefly...hoping somehow the aerial bombers would come soon and ease the threat. Please...for the love of God...fucking DO something, I silently willed them...

Our water reserves were running low and the audible low water alarm started sounding. You could barely hear it over the noise. Like a car horn vs a jet engine.

But I knew then too, as did my partner, that what we'd done here was done. Our first confrontation with the front was through and we'd have to back off to comparitive safety, refill the tank and tend to our own welfare before we did any more. We still had a couple of hundred litres - enough for the crew protection sprays. Enough, I idly thought, to "just splash a little on me...just soak my jacket a bit...ease the burning. I could tell my partner was thinking it too. Just one look at him, holding the nozzle towards his face...wanting so badly to drench himself - but we both knew all too well that in this heat, or if we were caught by the fire, being soaked would be a horrific death sentence - it would mean, as we'd been taught, that the water would boil on us, and literally boil you to death.

It seemed like obscene torture. The promise of just a quick spray of water to cool off...a fleeting memory of being a young child at home, running in front of a hose to cool off in summer - but now here, knowing that same soothing treatment could kill me in a way so unimaginable it beggars belief.

It seemed so unjust. All I want is to ease the heat...ease my burning skin...I want to sweat for fuck's sake! Want to be cool...but I can't. Trap that water on me and I'll be cooked. It is not a word of a lie to say it took every last reserve of self discipline to force myself not to take the risk. The promise of instant relief vs the threat of something unimaginably grotesque.

We were accelerating away now. I have no idea how fast - I had no perception. On both sides of the road, flames were racing up the small embankments, licking up trees, and tree tops just bursting alight. The light was bizarre. Knowing it was not past 4pm on a summer afternoon but it might have been midnight - the sky was blacked out to the point of absolution by the smoke and the only light came from the fire. We passed a burning car on the road. It looked like it'd stopped in a hurry and run partly of the road. I couldn't bring myself to look inside...for I just knew somehow that it would haunt me.

I found out several days later, two people were in that car. Both deceased at this point. They'd fled the house we'd been trying to defend but left it far too late...lost their way in the smoke...and in the end...it just looks like they'd given up trying. Who knows what their last thoughts were?

If I ever meet them at the crossroads one day...I'd like to ask them. I somehow believe, even though I don't know them, whereever they are now they can know what's happening in the world and to this day, I wish they'd know that I am so sorry we couldn't get there in time...we couldn't save them.

To that couple, dead in the car - I'm sorry I couldn't look at you. I knew you were there...my mind refused to accept it but my heart knew. I'm so sorry.

The threat slightly diminished, we set off in search of water...and I slumped down on the bench on the back of the truck, physically and mentally exhausted already but knowing there were many, many hours ahead.