Remembering the 173

Often I have heard the phrase, 'Fire kills indiscriminately'. I would disapprove this assertion by countering that Fire kills, discriminately, deliberately, and with horror. On the 7th February 2009, large parts of Victoria, a southern State of mainland Australia where I live, was terrorised by a series of brutal, murdering Bushfires. Dreadfully, in a single day and night, these series of Conflagrations, some of which linked up to create unimaginably massive Firestorms, killed 173 people. The Fires injured hundreds, many seriously and changed the lives of the Survivors, Firefighters, Emergency Personnel, Residents, and many Citizens not even directly affected on the day. A total of 2,123 homes were destroyed. Large numbers of out buildings, sheds and commercial properties and community infrastructure such as schools, halls, health clinics, sporting facilities, even Police stations were razed. Thousands of kilometres of fencing, powerlines (and poles), communications facilities destroyed and dozens of bridges, roads, signs damaged. Unimaginable numbers of fauna killed and cruelly burnt, only to die an agonising slow death. At the height of the Fires over 4,000 people were directly involved in attempting to fight the violence, the overwhelming majority were willing and devoted volunteers. In the emergency response after the Fires, up to 10,000 people were engaged. It has been estimated that in pure economic terms the outbreak cost in excess of $4 Billion (Australian Dollars) and this does not include the cost of rebuilding lives, property or services.

Immediately after the Fires, the State Government of Victoria, appointed a Royal Commission to investigate the disaster and to offer recommendations as to future Fire strategies. The Commission (same as a Court of Inquiry but with a specific reference though with strong powers inside that reference), sat for 155 days and took testimony from hundreds of Witnesses, including Survivors, Fire-fighters, and those in positions of command and responsibility. The Commission investigated 15 major Fires on the day out of a reported 316 forest & scrub fires that broke out. Last weekend the Commission handed down its final Report and it makes for harrowing, sobering and thoughtful reading both in identifying weakness in the responses to the Fires at command levels and on the ground as well as recognising the often heroic and unselfish efforts of many involved. In the end the Commission produced a 5 volume report nearing 1,000 pages including a 42 page summary. I have spent today reading, often in tears, this grave and unimpeachable Report.

I can recall the day itself and the days preceding the Fires as if it were yesterday. Fortunately, I was nowhere near the Bushfires, (having wisely cancelled a walk in one of the areas that was affected). It was a very hot day, (and I generally enjoy hot days as a rule, though not this one). The temperature went well into the 40s Celsius (about 104 Fahrenheit). Though leading up to this day we had encountered a record hot spell of consecutive 43C/109F plus days (3 in a row in fact) harbinged earlier by a number of 35C/95F plus weather. This was on top of an already prolonged Drought that had seen Melbourne's overall water supply dip below 30% capacity and many rural Dams and Reservoirs were either completely dry or near dry up. The Forests were tinder dry, (according to the Commission, the driest since the severe bushfires of 1983) and loaded with combustible undergrowth. I look back on my Diary entries for December 2008 and January 2009 as I walked through many Forests that ended up being turned into cinders and my scribblings consistently indicate how excessively hot (as opposed to warm summery days) we were experiencing and that the Trees appeared ailing due to lack of water. I also noted how much litter and undergrowth there seemed. In particular, my entry for the Cathedral Range (110 kilometres/68 miles) north of Melbourne, where I had walked late January 2009 and one of the most beautiful and toughest of walks read, "...on the hard climb to Mount Sugarloaf, I noticed how distressed the manna gums and mountain ash appeared and how underfoot you could hear and feel the brittle dry of leaf clutter ... looks ripe for a nasty fire ... even the birds seem subdued." Two weeks after making these notes a ruinous Fire scorched the Range and nearby towns killing scores, and wounding and scarring many. February in Victoria, and most of the southern States, including the island of Tasmania, is always the worst month for Bushfires, with its signature hot and blustery northerly winds and long stretches of dry, searing days of heat in the 30C/86F plus range.

The night that the Fires went berserk it was so hot (my house was like an oven in itself) I was sitting on the front patio of my home. The temperature at 8:00pm was 43C/109F, and (it had already been 40C/104F at 11:00am and peaked later in the afternoon at 46.3C/115F). The summer sky was an eerie, mustard colour, heavy with foreboding smoke. Yet, it was quiet too, as people were exhausted by the long run of heat. As I sipped on my iced-coffees, listening to the drama unfolding over the radio, death was visiting many and obliterated whole townships such as Marysville, Buxton, Steels Creek, Kinglake, Kinglake West, Callignee, Arthurs Creek, Jeeralang Junction, Narbethong, Strathewen, Toolangi, Reedy Creek, Koornalla, Humevale, Flowerdale/Hazeldene, Mudgegonga, Cambarville, and a whole host of smaller towns. Even parts of the Victoria's third largest City, Bendigo endured a vicious (and deliberately lit) fire that raced through one of its suburbs, killing on its way. When dawn finally came on the Sunday, the airwaves were saturated with coverage of the massacre - though even at this stage the Authorities did not realise the extent of the violence that had occurred. Over coming days, dazed Survivors began to tell of the horrors. Footage and photographs emerged that were, to be honest, utterly unbelievable. Bodies were in the streets of Marysville (the whole town annihilated except for a handful of buildings that somehow did not burn). There were corpses in cars, trapped by the raging beast as they tried vainly to flee to safety. People were still smouldering, dead, outside their homes which they tried to valiantly defend. Whole Families burnt to death inside their homes trying to shelter from the Firestorm. Utter annihilation. Survivors had terrible burns and harrowing tales both of heroism amidst excruciating fear and seeming hopelessness. There were the Firefighters, overwhelmingly coming from volunteers of the Country Fire Authority (CFA) who donate their time and expertise, to serve their rural communities. They were swamped by the sheer scale and intensity of the Fires - some of which it was discovered later had been deliberately lit. Others by faulty powerlines. Some by lightning strikes from dry summer electrical storms. For days and weeks after the turmoil, the warm to hot weather continued. Help was brought in from interstate and even overseas, from New Zealand and the United States. Dozens of water bombing aircraft and helicopters were deployed. For areas near the fire zones that had not been burnt there were constant alerts, warnings, and evacuation requests. People, understandably, became edgy and tired, worn down by the implacable flames or threat of flames. There was good too. Bushfires Appeals were set up to not only help Survivors with shelter, but clothing, toiletries, food, things we mostly take for granted. This is where Australians tend to shine, in their generosity. I recall a young mother, with two children, staying in tent, set up temporarily on a Football ground. The Reporter with obvious sincerity asked, what did she need the most? Shakily, all she wanted was some toilet paper and maybe an ice-cream for her kids. In another instance, a volunteer Fire-fighter, his uniform blackened with grime and soot became overjoyed when he saw his Wife emerge from a crowd near his Fire-fighting Truck, he exclaimed, "I thought you were dead! How could you survive this?" His arms swept about in a 360 degree circle as all around was a just a grey, black, smoking landscape devoid of green. Then there was the instance, as shown in television footage shot from a Helicopter as it passed overhead of Marysville (a town of over 500 residents, located 99 kilometres/62 miles north-east of Melbourne). The place looked firebombed, nothing except charcoal tree stumps, some brick chimneys and the twisted metal of half melted communication towers, cars and trucks and electricity conduits. Prior to the Fires, Marysville was known as one of the Honeymoon towns with nearby Steavensons Falls (one of the highest in Victoria with drops totalling 112 metres/367 feet).

It is near on eighteen months since the time of the Fires. Much controversy has raged over the welfare of the Survivors. Many have decided to rebuild, quite a number have left never to return. An Appeal organised afterwards raised a staggering and heartening $389 million (Australian Dollars) from members of the public to help survivors: the most of any Appeal in Australian History. In addition, both State and Federal Governments also provided millions of dollars in direct and indirect assistance. Unfortunately, despite earnest and sincere efforts, many victims are still not housed (living in temporary accommodation on or off site, sometimes in donated caravans, buses even tents) being bogged down in red-tape, whilst still trying to cope with physical and mental scars. Some have managed better than others, understandably. Everyone, including those not directly impacted, has been irrevocably changed by this, the greatest peacetime loss of life in a single incident since records had been kept. This is why Fire kills discriminately. It seeks out its victims and murders, here there, many at a time, often one by one, always cruelly. Those it does not kill in the immediate Fire, it wounds and maims without pity. Even when it is extinguished it still kills afterwards. Many have died since that day of their wounds or by the emotional impact. Many are dead inside, but still bravely carry on.

Australians (mostly) understand that Bushfires is a part of the Australian Landscape, as no summer passes without outbreaks. Some seasons are milder in terms of destruction than others but it always there, ready to smite. Yet, milder Bushfires can be useful too, as a tool of keeping the undergrowth under control and as a means of fertilising the Forest. The Indigenous custodians regular started Fires to induce game to be caught for food and to ripen the land with new growth. This has not always been the way since European occupation, though 'controlled burns' have been sporadically undertaken over the last 200 years. Too, some of the Australian Eucalypts and Indigenous flora need Fires in order to propagate - the heat of the Fire opening seed buds which then use the ash to help grow the next generation and keeping floral competitors at bay. But Firestorms, as we occasionally experience, kill even the tough Eucalypts. The 7th February 2009 was a series of extraordinary Firestorms.

So, today's photo is of remembrance of the 173 who perished. Of those wounded, maimed and scarred both physically and emotionally. Of the unselfish acts by the Firefighters, (both volunteer and paid) and of the emergency services people like Police, Ambulance, State Emergency Service It is for individuals and families and the devoted work of those associated with the Royal Commission.

The final word here, I reckon, belongs to a bloke whom I met only a few months ago. I was walking near a place called Mirboo North in Gippsland, which is a large province in the east of the State. There is a Rail Trail that gently winds its way for a distance of about 13 kilometres/8 miles from Mirboo North to the smaller town of Boolarra. The Rail Trail traverses (via an old Railway Line Right of Way) through a verdant stand of Mountain Ash Eucalypts that tower to well over 100 metres/328 feet in places. Most of this Forest was burnt and many parts of the Track became impassable due to fallen Trees and damaged infrastructure. This garrulous Old Timer, his face etched by years, had lost his home. It was the home he was born in and had lived through good and ill all of years, in fact his only ever home. Gone, burnt to cinders. He just shrugged, "It is not about me really, it is about the land. The land has been scorched but not ruined. The land will recover, that is the land's way. Maybe I'll build again on the land. But not all people will recover, even if they do rebuild."

In memory.

A useful link: www.royalcommission.vic.gov.au