The late Bill Snowball used an old typewriter to put down this personal recollection of the Ash Wednesday bushfires hitting Cockatoo.
His niece Helen Wood passed on the first-hand account of the 16 February 1983 disaster to mark the 36th anniversary.
Margery and I had arranged previously to dine out on that never-to-be-forgotten evening of 16 February, aptly named Ash Wednesday.
When we left home there was no sign of fire.
Half way through dinner we received a phone call to say that a fire had broken out and was within a couple of miles of Cockatoo.
We left our meal half-eaten, raced to our car and proceeded at break-neck speed for home.
As we drove along a ridge, we could see the inferno in the distance about half a mile away.
It was a scene from Fantasia, a huge red and orange blaze stretching for over half a mile with flames reaching hundreds of feet towards the sky.
Fireballs hung in the air for a second and then would suddenly leap forward a quarter of a mile at a time, for the wind had reached a velocity of 80mph.
The speed of the fire was incredible.
We had no time to stop and look at this fantastic sight. All this was seen from the corner of our eyes as we sped for home.
Half-way home we were stopped by a policeman and redirected via a back road, as the main road was required for fire trucks and emergency vehicles.
We got to within a few hundred yards of the village of Cockatoo when we were again stopped by a police constable and told we could go no further.
After explaining that we lived in Cockatoo and had to return home to collect our dog, we were eventually allowed to proceed. Precious moments had been lost.
We raced up the road towards the house only to be met by a stream of cars coming in the opposite direction, each occupant calling out to turn around and get out as we had been evacuated.
We continued, however, determined to collect our dog and any possessions we may be able to take.
I said to Margery ‘we will grab some blankets, an axe and whatever else we can and go’.
We arrived at the front door only to be met with a cascade of burning sparks and debris falling around us like hail.
The dog was there, thank heavens, and was by now absolutely frantic.
We opened the car door and he dashed inside.
I said to Marge ‘forget everything, we can’t stay here another second’.
We did not know exactly where the fire was.
The smoke was all around, the wind was howling, sparks and ashes kept falling and the roar of the fire was like a giant waterfall.
We did not get out of the car, but started immediately back to the village on that nightmare ride, not knowing where we were to go or what was ahead of us.
By now the car was rocking from side to side with the force of the wind, mainly caused by the fire itself, and it was hard to keep on the road but we dared not slow down.
The fire was all around us by now – in the tree tops 50 feet or more about our heads and it actually arrived at the village ahead of us.
I said ‘we will head for Gembrook as it is open country’ but when we arrived at the village there was a traffic jam and the road to Gembrook was closed as the fire had got ahead and a tree had fallen across the road.
There we sat in the car in the main street of Cockatoo – not very wide, about 50 feet – and waited with the fire all around.
Suddenly the wind changed to the west and a cascade of burning branches, leaves and sparks came up the street, for it runs directly east and west.
Before our eyes and no more than a hundred feet away, a house exploded into flames.
A 100-year-old disused shop in the main street suddenly caught and within 10 minutes was no more.
Every now and then a gas bottle would explode with a muffled roar like distant artillery fire.
There were 20 or 30 houses burning at once within a radius of half a mile from where we sat.
The heat was terrific and our clothes were saturated with perspiration and the dog was panting as though he would burst.
There were some hundred cars parked in the main street and in the car park.
There was no panic, but some confusion as nobody quite knew what was happening or what was going to happen next.
Everyone bore up remarkably well under the circumstances, although a lot knew already they had lost everything except the clothes they stood up in.
Here and there someone broke down and wept as grief became too hard to bear.
One of the cruellest sounds of all was the barking of a dog trapped in a burning house.
Its frantic cries could be heard by all, getting gradually weaker and weaker, then suddenly silence. There was nothing anyone could do.
At one stage of this holocaust we were directed down the Woori Yallock Road by a fireman as it was believed we could get through to Lilydale as the main fire had passed by now.
We set off with burning trees and falling branches all around and smouldering houses still white hot – not a house was left standing for a mile along this road.
The smoke was more dense – like a fog – as the wind had died and we could only proceed at a snail’s pace.
It was hard to see the white line. After half a mile we were stopped once again with a tree across the road.
I said to Marge ‘the safest place is back at the village’.
We turned around and made our way back amidst the burning tree and houses.
The authorities, the police, SEC, CFA and all other helpers were beyond reproach and did their best under the circumstances not experienced by any of them previously.
The incredible speed of the fire caught everyone by surprise.
Afterwards there was some criticism of the CFA, why they didn’t stop the fire etcetera.
No being on this planet could have stopped that inferno. Perhaps a being from another planet could have!
Although the main fire had gone by now – in fact the intense inferno only lasted about half an hour – there were still fires burning all around as far as one could see.
Trees were alight, houses still smouldered, heaps of rubbish still burnt, the bottles went or exploding.
I was convinced our house had burnt, although it is of brick construction with a tiled roof.
From where we parked in the village I had seen an ominous bright orange-red glow some time earlier, about the spot where our house would have been.
About midnight I said to Margery ‘we’ll go and see, one way or the other’.
We had travelled but a quarter mile on the return journey when we were confronted by flashing lights, men milling around and a notice ‘live wires across road’.
It was the SEC emergency team at work.
We picked our way slowly back along the road amidst burning branches, fearful that one would fall on the car or a tree would be across the road blocking our path.
Very different from the break-neck speed we had travelled on this road some few hours earlier!
The wind had stopped by now and the roar of the fire had gone, only a slight crackling as the trees still burnt.
It is only a little over a mile back to the house, but it was the longest mile of my life wondering with beating heart would the house still be there.
We came to the last bend and saw our neighbour’s place – the Admiral Benbow Restaurant – reduced to a heap of rubble and twisted metal.
As we swung into our drive we saw a huge eucalyptus tree in the front garden burning sparks and flame.
The front fence was ablaze and as the lights swung up the drive and picked up the house, Margery gave a shout saying ‘it’s still there, but it’s alight at the end’.
I put my foot down and went up that drive at 60mph – or so it seemed.
We sprang from the car, raced around the back and grabbed a hose which had been left attached to the tap.
The back and side fences were alight, half a dozen trees were alight showering sparks in all directions, a pile of timber in the back garden was burning fiercely, a post two feet from the house was alight.
I sprayed a stream of water on the post and the sizzling sound it made as it hit the red-hot cinders was music to our ears.
Margery and I stayed up until 4am putting out the fires.
Every so often a shower of sparks would erupt from a burning tree in a display of fireworks which in any other circumstances would have been most spectacular.
At intervals a dull thud could be heard as a burning tree collapsed and fell to the ground amidst a cascade of flames and sparks.
Thinking about it afterwards, if we had not gone out to dinner we would have left earlier than we did and would probably have travelled to Melbourne.
If the Gembrook Road had not been blocked we would have got out and not gone back until the next day.
If the Woori Yallock Road had not been blocked, again the same thing.
If we had not gone back at midnight, the house would have caught alight and burned to the ground.
I would say the Great Architect had been keeping a friendly eye upon us.
