A legacy of despair

By Kath Gannaway
CHRIS Haden is no stranger to fire, or to death. In 32 years with Marysville Fire Brigade he has dealt with both.
But what he experienced on Black Saturday – and on the days immediately after – has left him with a legacy he is struggling to come to terms with one year on, and will very likely for the rest of his life.
“I’ve been kind of good right up to three months ago and all of a sudden it’s caught up with me,” he said talking publicly for the first time about the fireball on Kings Road that left firefighters running for their lives, life-and-death decisions, the loss of life-long friends and the gut-wrenching search for bodies with the police forensics teams.
He is hardly a reluctant volunteer, but on Black Saturday, his plan for the day was to spend it at home in Marysville with his wife.
‘I had just taken on a job in Traralgon and wasn’t planning to go home, but I was already missing Cheryl,” he said.
Instead, as a brigade lieutenant, he ended up crew leader of a strike team heading out to Murrindindi.
The five-man crew – Chris, Roger Martin, Michael Gleeson, Stewart Potter and John Malcolm – had been at the Murrindindi mill fire for about 15 minutes when they heard over the radio that the fire was jumping Narbethong.
“I knew we (Marysville) were in trouble then and we headed straight home,” he said.
They could see flames over the top of the Black Range ridgeline to the west of Marysville as they turned off at Buxton.
“I rang my wife and told her to get out of the house … get out now, and ring the neighbours. I knew if she went to her father’s (Len Sund’s) house he was well prepared, and if anyone was going to save their house it would be him.”
The Narbethong fire had spotted on Kings Road, a one-way-in, one-way-out, road high above the town.
The DSE was back-burning along the fire front and the CFA’s job was to protect the edges, to make sure it didn’t come back on them.
“It was working really well. I thought we had it until the wind changed,” he said.
“We had 140km winds … it just hit us.”
The wind turned what Chris described as a normal fire into something no one on Kings Road had ever experienced.
“I still can’t believe we got out … we’re so lucky to be alive,” he said.
“If you can imagine a surfer in the tunnel of a massive wave, the fire crowned across the top of the trees and engulfed everyone in that ball of flame.
“It just rolled like a big wave. After that there was no controlling it.
“There were probably 50 blokes up there and everyone was just running for the trucks.”
The convoy was in a life-or-death race to outrun the fire; trees falling all around them and the bush by now exploding, creating one massive, unstoppable fire storm.
It was maybe six or seven o’clock when they got to the oval and the fire by this time was raging all around them.
“I think everyone was just in shock. No one really knew the magnitude of it and looking around it was just unbelievable. All you could do was just sit and reflect … jeez, what’s happening.”
There are no words to describe the thoughts and fears of that night for Chris and for Marysville captain Glen Fiske. Neither man knew for sure whether their wives, and in Glen’s case his son, Dalton, were alive or dead.
“Glen knew his house was gone but was praying Lizzie and Dalton …..” He can’t say the words – and doesn’t need to.
“At day-break we went up to the house and we found the bodies of his wife and son.”
Cheryl and her parents were safe.
A search on Sunday morning of sites where Chris believed the residents would not have left their homes gave an insight into what was to come.
“We just covered them with blankets. That’s all we could do,” he said.
When the town was locked down later that day Chris and SES member Keith Ray were called on to help the police forensic team do house-to-house searches.
It wasn’t something anyone would choose to do, but their local knowledge was critical. It has taken its toll
“I’ve been to a lot of road accidents, horrific road accidents, but this has affected me in an entirely different way,” Chris says.
“Most car accident victims are strangers and you can deal with it. These are people you know … it’s gut wrenching.”
He can’t see himself ever returning to Marysville. (He still works in Traralgon.)
“We loved the town. My wife was born here, our kids were born there; it’s part of our life, but it’s just too hard,” he says.
The future is uncertain.
“I just hope I get over it …that’s all
“Get over it and get on with life … that would be a good start.”