SUPPORTING THOSE THAT SUPPORT YOU

It is said that soldiers who’ve been though active duty develop a thousand-yard stare. I’ve known some and seen that hard look in the eye. It is chilling. Last night, I joined an informal debrief session for our local CFA brigade. Although no longer active on the trucks, I am still a member and doing what I can for my community. I saw that look in many of their faces.

On a normal day, our gathering would be a casual laugh, the odd jibe but happy friends and neighbours hanging together. This day was not normal – it was the aftermath of the Victorian firestorm that exploded on Friday 09.01.2026.

On that Friday, I had already evacuated my home – the house that I poured everything into over many long years; the culmination of my deepest childhood dream; the house that broke my back; and strained my relationship; but equally a place of safety, of solace, of healing and growth – a truly amazing space on oh so many levels.

Several dear friends had built their own such paradises nearby in Longwood, like us, lovingly handcrafted over many thousands of hours. Today, they have naught but ashes and memories. It is only the fickleness of fate that saved me and mine from the same outcome. Or worse.

On that Friday, my parter, confidant, friend, and lover of 24 years was in the thick of it. With a group of neighbours, strangers and more. All putting it on the line in the service of others. She is a Crew Leader and 3rd Lieutenant in our local brigade, ironically the same roles I held during Black Summer.

My dear Dana has developed that stare. That could be scary. Yet I know it is necessary, an armour plating required to face the insane chaos of such infernal madness. Instead, I have nothing but pride. Not only did she join in, she stepped up a level. Multiple, in fact. In this, we have talked openly and honestly. It will take time for her to process it all, but that can wait until everything calms down. Right now, she has a very important job to do, and I most certainly won’t get in the way of that.

The two of us were not born into this life, but we are a natural fit and have never felt more at home. Our crew are the epitome of rugged and resilient country folk. Tough on the outside but tender on the inside. Despite lots of “Yeh Nah, I’ll be right, mate” bluster, a trait often required to deal with the harshness of life in our landscape, I also know that deep down they will carry hurt. Some will deal with it well, others less so. For a few, it will fester up and explode, like a lolly in a soft drink (best not to ask our grumpy captain about Mentos). Trauma is a bitch, and she slaps everyone in different ways.

These are ragtag, everyday people, from all walks of life, who may normally not cross paths. But when their collective existences are threatened, they find their inner superhero and band together to do what they can. As I write, they are still patrolling locally, mopping up the hotspots. In all directions, there are still active firefights, and this is but the start of summer. They will have a lot to unpack, and a lot to process but they cannot afford the time to relax into that just yet. For now, the shields stay up, the senses heightened and one ear on the pager or phone. Their vigilance is my salvation.

Setting the scene (changing tense to keep it tense)

Mon 05.01: Second Total Fire Ban (TFB) of the summer. We are as prepped as we can be and go about our day. Weather looking ominous later in the week. Escalate contingency planning.

Wed 07.01: Fire kicks off to our west in Longwood. Our team get paged, but Dana is nursing the end of a cold, so stays behind today.

Thurs 08.01: Another TFB. The inferno is growing. Dana is scheduled for a day on the fireground. Wave goodbye to my dearest, off to join the family of the big red truck. Do a mid-morning telehealth, then go out to check conditions. Definitely getting worse. Stay close to comms and online fire info. About 2pm, I walk outside and the sky is split in two hemispheres: to the north, standard blue summer with a few fluffy clouds; to the south, a wall of doom, black from side to side, glowing evil orange to the west and capped with a Pyro Cumulus cloud. Thunder and lightning kicking off. Time to GTFO. Escape kit is all ready to go, smash it in the ute, farewell my Magnum Opus, grab the dog and head to relative safety with friends and other refugees in Euroa.

Fri 09.01: The firestorm fully erupts. Forecast Catastrophic conditions are just that. The burn is so large and intense, it is making its own weather systems. Longwood, south of the freeway, is already long gone, Ruffy was toast yesterday, and now Yarck, Gobur, Molesworth, then more are hit. I blink, and it’s on the way to Alexandra. All places I have spent much time and all sheltering friends and their families. In the late afternoon, I get a report that it is in our street, and all I can do is hope.

Sat 10.01: Conditions are now untenable in Euroa. The tea leaves are reading bad juju so we single file it to a safer haven in Wangaratta. Just as we arrive, I get a call from an angel deep in the CFA, saying ‘Get out of Euroa, NOW!’. Thank you, too late, already long gone…phew. Fortunately, a team of aircraft pull the worst of it up just in time, but I am told they come very close to losing this flank.

Sun 11.01: Valiant efforts across the board and firies et al are getting a leash on this wicked beast. Plan for return.

Mon 12.01: I head home through a dark haze, pointing straight for the community hub where I think Dana is, having not seen her for days. Not there, so off home, to pat its walls and wait. Mobile comms still scratchy but we get through and she rushes home for an almighty hug. We spend a few moments saying thanks to the universe, then she gets right back on the case and into firey work.

Fireground conditions keep calming and, as soon as the angry little squares on our apps turn from Red to Orange, the ‘silent majority’ morons start a bitter argument on our local social platform (Bogie Tree, or BT). Incensed, I jump in and put a rocket up them, effectively telling the whole 400 strong community to shut up and go to bed. They do.

135,000ha of destruction gets stopped just three doors from us. From my stoop, I gaze with amazement at the black ground. Our 21ha is puny by comparison and, many times over this long weekend, was mere seconds from obliteration.

Tues 13.01: This next morning, in the calm after the storm, I start processing some pretty heightened and complex emotions. Several hours later, I send the following to our local world.

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A pause for reflection

On Tuesday, Jan 13, 2026 at 2:08 PM John O’Brien via BT wrote:

I was blunt yesterday but feel that was required. Here is the nuance that I more strive for. I put this up not for comment, discussion or response (it will be muted as soon as I post, to keep the noise of BT to essentials). This is more a general call for calm and deep honesty with ourselves and our current situation. Take it in and take a moment to reflect on all of the good that has, and will continue to, come out of this bad. Read on if you wish.

I’d like to pay tribute to the thousands of amazing volunteers, emergency services personnel and agencies that have spent the last 5-6 days working around the clock to keep the rest of our community safe. They have risked their lives, taken their bodies and souls through torture, and faced horrific experiences that most on this group will never go through, let alone truly appreciate. But they do so to help ALL of us. The least that everyone not directly involved in the battle against the fire beast that threatened us can do is to show tolerance and compassion for those putting it all on the line.

They are the ones who dropped everything, left their loved ones behind, waved goodbye to their homes, and wondered if they would ever see any of that again, let alone just get through the day alive. They are the people who had to suppress all of that, bottle it up and focus on the immediate and visceral danger directly in front of (and all around) them. It takes a special breed to do this, yet they are also ordinary – our neighbours, workmates, friends and family. There will be scars. Please help them as they help us.

Today, they are still on the fireground, and will be for a long time yet.

Most volunteers are scared witless out there when it’s all going pear shaped. I know, I’ve been there enough times. It can be utterly exhausting; physically, mentally and psychically. But some thrive in that environment, pushing through pain and fear, seeking moments of strategic clarity to make the right call, under extreme duress, again and again. The more I did it, the more I sought it. The adrenaline rush of being way out of your comfort zone, life on the line, bonding with a crew in ways that remain ever deep, is intense but brutal. When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. (Un)fortunately, my body will not permit this anymore but I have great faith in all the people that continue to risk it all in caring for others.

This is truly selfless and the rest of us owe eternal gratitude.

We are all scared. I get it. We are all on edge. Because we just faced a calamity way beyond any individual’s control. What happened over the last week was literally a catastrophe. Right on our doorstep. Our lives and livelihoods have been threatened. Many nearby have lost everything, dreams and memories shattered. That could so easily have been us.

Our collective ‘fight or flight’ responses have not just been triggered but, for many, are still very active. Nerves are raw and jangly and we are very much not out of it yet. Crews and agencies will be out there for weeks getting this one completely tame. The rebuild will take years. Without alarm, it also is worth noting that this is only the start of a long hot summer in a land that loves to burn. It is far from over…

We are all hurting and we all want answers. Pointing fingers or playing the blame game achieves nothing but animosity and confusion. There will be a time for finding better ways to deal with the dangers we regularly face here in rural Australia. Bogie Tree is not that platform and now is not that time. We still have a very large active fire scene in our backyard. I look at it from my front door (which I am oh so grateful for still having).

Now is the time to keep calm, support those around us and look after the legions of legends who are tidying up the mess while keeping everyone else safe. Now is when we see our resilient community coming together, bonding in what joins us rather than any differences that might keep us apart. We all love being here, so let’s keep making it such a special place.

Hug someone you love; seek solace in your belief systems; show care for those who need it most; support those who are risking it all to care for the rest of us; and drink plenty of water. If you can find some clean air, take a few moments for a deep breath and give thanks that most of us dodged a big one.

Pray to your chosen deity; hug your favourite tree; worship your number one podcaster; do whatever keeps you grounded and sane. Please shed a tear or more – it is healthy to let it out – you will feel better for doing it. If it all seems too much there are myriad support services available online – please use them.

The armchair generals and keyboard warriors can have their day when all the hotspots are quenched, the trucks are back in the sheds and our normal (what actually is normal these days?) lives have resumed.

In the meantime, stay positive. We are all in it together.

With Love, Johnno

PS. Reply directly if you want to. I may, or may not, respond. I’m as emotionally fragged and overloaded as the rest of us. But I’d like to keep BT safe, happy, positive and a resource for help and hope. Particularly with what we are all going through.

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How you can help…

Bushfire relief www.emergency.vic.gov.au/relief-and-recovery/1151

CFA donations www.cfa.vic.gov.au/about-us/fundraising-and-partnerships/donate-to-cfa

Many, many people are affected and deserving. Our friends mentioned above lost the lot. All four of them have always given way more than they take.

Nellie and Aidan started their house build just as we finished ours. We helped in many ways, even lending them our scaffold for 12 months to keep them safe. They named their gorgeous abode ‘Polly’, just like our dog: www.gofundme.com/f/aidan-nelle-home-belongings-lost-to-longwood-fire

Justus and Janet we know more from afar, but they have given so, so much for so many years: www.gofundme.com/f/justus-and-janet-hagen-emergency-relief-funds

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Main Pic: THE CFA ANGELS POPPED BY ON PATROL IN THE DAYS AFTER