I am a survivor of the 1939 and 1969 fires. I am new to Victoria. I have lived here for 37 years.

I have been a CFA volunteer for 15 years, for 7 months, for 12 years.

I was in the Information Unit. I am the aunt of my niece who burned alive in her home.

I am recently widowed. I live with my husband. I am facing this alone.

I am a fully qualified botanist. I am a Registered Nurse. I am one of nine councillors of the city council.

I am a single retiree dependent on the aged pension.

My submission is for the loss of my children who perished in fires at Kinglake 1 year and 2 months ago.

I knew that it was 47 degrees and saw a strange red dusty cloud hanging in the air.

I was listening to 774 Radio, using a CFA scanner, and checking outside every hour.

I was on my way home with my sons and a basket of washing.

I attempted to call 000, several times, without success. Smoke from the Bunyip fires and the Kilmore East fires was worsening.

I believed the house was defendable. My home was safe.

We had been preparing for months,

chopping trees, clearing rubbish, cleaning gutters,

accumulating fire equipment:

water, pumps, generator, portable radio, downpipe blocks

and fire clothes, filled baths and tanks

I was watching the golf and had turned the radio off. I was on the computer.

I was unaware of the change in wind. I had the curtains closed and the air conditioner on.

The power went off while we were doing our packing so we lost the news from the radio.

My family was watching The Sound of Music on television.

I heard the fire siren sound from Marysville. I saw strange light from the smoke and a blood red moon.

I saw a helicopter in the sky, sky red in the smoke.

Only had time to grab the kids and dog and go,

hit by smoke and burning embers coming from behind us, bits

of burnt twigs and leaves floating down from the west

and then we could hear

the roar of the fire, an express train of flames.

There was nothing we could do.

That’s where Kinglake should be. I think it’s gone.

A raging wind was battering a sulphur-crested cockatoo, ruffling its feathers as it flew east.

I cannot forget the image and sound of terrified horses screaming as they fled a wall of smoke and flames.

Death by bushfire can mean burning alive.

It is a myth that you will suffocate

through lack of oxygen in the moments preceding death.

It is a myth that you will be unconscious.

The choice to stay and protect or to leave

does not tell people that they would survive.

I almost lost my life,

due to not being able to open the garage with a remote control,

as fallen trees had cut the power supply.

I survived when twelve of my neighbours died.