Saturday 7^th February

By Rohan Thornton

The name “Black Saturday” doesn't sit well with me. Not sure why but it just makes me feel uneasy. I sat through Friday, listening to all of the reports wondering whether this was going to be another “boy who cried wolf” scenario. Four years of being consistently told the world would end had turned me into a cynic.

On February 7^th, the world did end for 173 people and was changed for countless others forever.

My day started in Nagambie. My family and myself were having a short but well earned break. The past few months had been tough at work and we were looking forward to it. I debated whether I should stay at home or not but Troy, my 1^st Lieutenant was going to be around which comforted me enough to pack up the car and go. I woke in the morning, it was very hot, very windy and I knew that I needed to go home. I said goodbye to Marisa and the kids, then departed with the full expectation that I would return later that night.

Travelling down the Hume Freeway I saw a column of smoke rise in the distance. I flicked my CFA radio on to Region 12 and heard the Kilmore trucks responding, and then calling more support. I have never seen a fire develop and spread so rapidly. A bad feeling developed that never left.

Moving ahead in time, I was at the North Warrandyte station. Many of the other members were there in anticipation. The smoke of the Kilmore fire was clearly visible from our station. I was in a state of disbelief that the fire I had watched begin was threatening our area.

Time is a bit fuzzy at this point.

Our Tanker 2 was responded as part of Strike Team 1364. They were to head to Hurstbridge Station as part of a pre-emptive strike, but not to respond to Vicfire. This was something that would have an impact on me later on.

Not long after, the Brigade received a page to attend a fire in St Andrews. We knew it was big but certainly not that big. Our Tanker 1 was used for local turnouts. This was the first time it had been used outside our immediate area. That left the station bare.

There were five of us in the truck. A mix of experience but a good crew. As we approached St Andrews the enormity of the fire was in front of us, I think we were all pretty nervous. We stopped for a while at St Andrew's Fire Station to regroup. There were a number of appliances already there. I was getting frustrated as there were residents coming out of the fire in fire damaged cars yelling about relatives that were trapped in houses. Our information was that the fire had crossed the road in about a 600m front. Us and a truck from Panton Hill moved forward to see what we could do. We had reports that there was someone trapped in a house about 400m into the fire. Firefighters are not spectators by nature so as a crew we decided to go in to see if we could help.

It was grey and gloomy, the embers were flying, and trees had fallen across the road as we looked for the house. We passed a couple of houses that were on fire as we went up towards Kinglake. Even at that point I had not experience fire behaviour like it. We found the house with a touch of relief that it was still standing. Dean and I jumped out to check the house out. The air was hot and the embers made it hard to breath.

The house was empty

The road behind us had become blocked. Our escape route was up the mountain. I really believed that another few hundred meters would see us out of the fire. We moved up the road dodging trees. We came across a motorbike on its side. A bit further up we found a body on the side of the road. This shook us all up.

Not long after that, it just went black. It was surreal. We could see fire metres ahead but could hardly see the road. The ember attack was ferocious and the noise was deafening. Inside the truck it was hot and felt like we were under gunfire attack from outside. Mick, our driver, suggested it might be time for a PAN (Possible Assistance Needed) call.

It got darker. All I could do was to make sure that the truck stayed to the right of the left white line. We were driving over, around and into trees. The side of the road was a steep descent. “Keep right Keep right” I kept shouting. Mick was focused on missing the trees that were falling and flying around us. Looking back I believe we were riding up the mountain with the fire front.

I tried to turn on the crew protection system when we had to stop or slow down. Unfortunately I could not reach it with my seat belt on so reluctantly I took it off.

It was relentless. Every so often light would appear through the gloom. We would think we were safe at last then the darkness quickly returned. We travelled 12 km dodging everything that flew around us. We had lost use of all of the gauges. The truck had run out of air, leaving us with no breaks. More than once we missed a bend in the road and drove directly into the embankments. We were never entirely sure where we were.

We started recognising some landmarks, as we got closer to Kinglake. Houses were on fire around us, the road was littered with vehicles that had not succeeded in their attempts to escape the fire. If they were in our way, we simply shunted them out of the way

I think we were so intent to survive we really did not take it all in. The journey up is a series of vignettes. Cutting through power lines (the DMO later remove 200m of power line from the drive shaft). We hit the round about at Kinglake although at the time we did not know it, then out of the fire, two cars rushed out of the flames. Mick swerved to miss the first one only to t-bone the second one. I will never forget the look on that guys face as long as I live.

At some stage in that journey I upgraded our situation to a May Day call. Maydays are not taken lightly. It means that someone is in the shit and need help urgently. I was starting to believe we would not get out of this intact.

We followed a road. We were hopelessly lost. We travelled down a road (that we now know as Victoria Rd). We travelled over speed humps. I remember thinking at the time, what an incredibly stupid place to have them. The road became gravel. It also became unbearably hot. Instinctively we knew we had to turn around. As we had no brakes, Mick had to bounce the truck off two gates to turn it around. As the tanker headed up Victoria Street a tree came down toward us. Left with no other option the truck left the road into a ditch and through a fence.

It's funny how you remember things. I remember saying “Mick, I don't think that's a road”. I remember the cabin spinning around then there were blanks. As it turned out it was I spinning around the cabin. I hit my head on the roof, the windscreen then flipped so my back hit the dashboard. I did not know it then but I knocked myself out and fractured two vertebrae.

The guys in the crew got me going again. I reconfirmed our status and the fact we were immobile. The mood in the cabin was tense but calm. The guys in the back took shelter under the woollen blankets. Mick tried to free truck and I tried to get help and worked the crew protection sprays while conserving our water. The truck had ended up between four houses, fully involved. To say the heat was intense would be underplaying it.

At some stage in our radio communications we learnt that Wonga Park were trying to rescue us. I am in awe of those brave guys. They chose to come and get us. I still can't find the words to express the gratitude I feel.

The spirit in the cabin improved. The next 8-10 minutes were spent trying to provide any information we could to assist them find us. The girls at Vicfire were trying to find a helicopter to dump water on us.

Then our protection water ran out.

That was the time I believed we not survive. I have since understood that all of us reached that decision at some point. It got hotter. I could feel the oxygen leaving us. The crew were calm. Everyone was deep in his own thoughts.

Nobody gave up hope. We were listening out for sirens, looking for flashing lights.

Then there they were.

What happened then is a little foggy. The Wonga Park guys think we were all unconscious when they found us. I can't refute that. I made sure the crew got out then tried to get out myself. The door was fused shut. I really thought they were going to leave me (I pictured the conversation as the truck headed down the mountain. “I thought you had Rohan”, “No I thought you had Rohan”)

We were not out of the woods yet (forgive the pun). The skilled Wonga park crew headed out. Three in the front and seven of us in the rear. Of course the guy with the broken back was on the bottom of the stack. My beard got burnt, Micks boots caught on fire and I ended up with an ember in my “plumbers crack”. That took some convincing to get water on it.

The journey down the mountain in my mind is a hundred fragments. I remember singing happy birthday to someone. There were hugs and tears. But overall I remember the pain in my back. I had inkling that I had done something bad.

We got to Coldstream and I was handed to the Ambos. They drove me to Royal Melbourne Hospital.

The first my wife was aware was the words “He's okay, they are putting him in an ambulance now”. I was so looking forward to seeing her and the kids again.

EPILOGUE

I am so, so proud of my crew. They behaved in a manner that can't be faltered. The training kicked in. they were great. The girls from Vicfire were our rocks. No matter how desperate our situation got, they never stopped trying. I for one gained a lot of strength from that.

Finally the guys from Wonga Park. Andrew, Luke, Rhys, Tim and Andrew. You are real heroes and I thank you