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It stuck in Wal’s craw whenever he thought of that day. It got him going each and every time. That particular day was the worst he had ever encountered, and it was all the fault of Eric Margin. What a fool he was; no - worse than that, much worse.
As units go, theirs was a small rural fire service, seventeen men with five trucks to cover the area west of the Goulburn River from Hollydeen to Baerami, including Mount Dangar. And the Council rep went and put Margin in charge. This was a man who got excited. He got off on the sound, the smell and the power of flame.
They had struggled with containment lines all morning, fighting a losing battle, near the end of their tether. As they neared the crest, Wal could smell more than ash on the wind; he could smell a change of direction.
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