It was the Australian flag flying out the front of the house that led me to two teenagers who were in danger.
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The smoke was thick and all the houses along Cabbage Tree Road near Williamtown looked the same.
The fire was fierce.
A Rural Fire Service firefighter told me I had to get out. There was no stopping the fire.
I rang my colleague, photographer Marina Neil, who was helping some of the residents pack up. She had taken a lift with them to safety, believing that two other boys – Sam and Dylan – and their pets, were close behind them.
It was then that one of the residents, Tim Crowther, confirmed the worst. Sam and Dylon had not left the house.
I looked up the road at the flames and knew their lives could be lost if I did not act. I saw a police car ahead and ran toward it, yelling out.
“There are boys in a house up there with their pets,” I said. “They won’t leave them, we have to save them.”
I got into the police car with two officers and we drove up the road, frantically trying to identify the house.
“It’s the one with the Australian flag out the front,” I told the officers, while taking instructions from Marina over my mobile phone.
“There it is,” I said as I spotted it.
We drove into the yard. It looked abandoned. When I got out I could feel the heat from the fire on my skin. A barbed wire fence blocked our entry. In high heels and a straight skirt I flew over it and started knocking on all the windows.
“Sam!” I screamed. “Dylon !”
The police followed. We found the boys standing at the back of the house watching the fire approach.
“You’ve got to get out of here,” one officer said. “You’ve got two minutes.”
If Tim had not alerted Marina, Sam and Dylon could have died.
Three adult border collies and their puppies were inside. I found one lying near the laundry and wrapped it in my arms.
The dog was heavy, but I had to get it out of there. I ran out to their car and put it on the back seat, then went back in to help get the others.
One of the policemen had some of the puppies in his arms. Sam and Dylon got the others.
Within two minutes we were out of the house and Sam and Dylon were driving to safety.
I went with the police to the next house and the policeman got out and knocked on the door. He checked it and confirmed it was abandoned.
The police received word via the scanner that the United service station at the end of Cabbage Tree Road – where Marina was waiting – was in the fire’s path and was expected to be engulfed.
I knew our work car was nearby and would be in the fire’s path.
Marina couldn’t escape because I had the car keys. I ran through the thick smoke trying to find the car. I could barely see a metre in front of me.
When I got in the car I could see the fire coming. I prayed the car would start. It did. I drove to the servo and Marina jumped in. We fled up Nelson Bay Road and pulled over to where it was safe.
We saw Sam and Dylon had done the same and met up with them. They had been reunited with Tim, their neighbour and family.
It was so good to see them and the pets. I was so glad they were OK, and so thankful to the police.
The police left the service station to set up a perimeter several kilometres around it in case of an explosion.
Fullerton Cove residents were already being evacuated.
There is no way of understanding how dire those circumstances are unless you are in it. The intensity of the fire and its unpredictability were nothing I could have ever imagined.
People like Natalie Morel were walking their horses out. Her seven-year-old horse Antikwa, which she has raised from a foal, was being agisted at a property under threat.
She came from Warners Bay to get the horse out and because of the road block she had to walk about 2.5 kilometres to rescue it and then walk back to the horse float, which was near the service station.
She told me there was no way she would leave her “baby” because the horse was her best friend and meant the world to her.
About two hours earlier Marina and I had been with residents on Barrie Close, off Cabbage Tree Road, who were trying to save their properties from the fire, which was very close.
The sight of frightened horses in paddocks and their owners carefully watching the fire and preparing to evacuate them was heartbreaking. I saw a woman crying next to her car. The fire was very close to her house.
I went up and hugged her. She told me her grandparents were in the house – that her grandfather had built – and had refused to leave. I think RFS firefighters made them leave. I don’t know if their house was spared.
Another woman a few doors up was ready to evacuate but had to get her dog and goat in the car. They were scared and running around. I grabbed the cattle dog and put him in the back seat.
“You won’t get the goat,” the woman said. “I’m not letting you leave without it,” I replied.
I grabbed the goat by the collar and dragged it to the car. It refused to lift up its front legs so I lifted them into the car and pushed it in and shut the door. The woman fled to safety. I never got her name and I don’t know if her house survived, but I hope she is OK.
I reacted to the situation before me as I hope anyone else in my position would have done.
Am I a hero? No.
The real heroes in this tragedy – other than the emergency services who have been doing every- thing humanly possible – are the residents.
They are the ones who have to deal with the trauma of a fire approaching their home. My heart goes out to all of them.