On the Princes Highway, heading to Milton, was a constant stream of emergency services vehicles – police, Fire & Rescue and Rural Fire Service – their lights flashing. An army was mobilising to confront an angry, unpredictable beast, whose flames and embers were reaching towards Kings Point and Burrill Lake. From north and south, east and west they came, converging on the RFS command centre high on the hill near Milton.

From there they were dispatched to take on the fire on various fronts.

A room within the RFS shed was the nerve centre. Police, RFS and Fire & Rescue personnel pored over maps, took updates via radio and directed the troops to hot spots and flare-ups.

Overhead, a squadron of water bombing helicopters was busily buzzing out to the fire ground and returning to refuel at Milton Showground, where a temporary air base had been set up.

An over-arching sense of purpose and determination permeated the command centre, and not just among those directing the responses. There were heroes hard at work in the kitchen, ensuring firefighters were fed and watered. In Milton, cafes were donating coffee.

Exhausted firefighters rotated through the centre, topping up the water in their appliances and fuelling themselves up on sandwiches. Many wore blackened faces, testament to the challenges they faced out in the field. Despite their fatigue, they joked among themselves before heading back to the fire.

The scene repeated itself all through the next day as well.

Meanwhile, Milton Public School mobilised. Students either baked or bought refreshments for the firies, delivering them en masse on Friday morning. Here were the youngest members of the community showing their gratitude to some of the oldest – the RFS volunteers, average age 65 – putting their lives on the line to keep us all safe.

Then came tragedy. Helicopter pilot Allan Tull died when his machine crashed while water bombing. The loss hit us all hard. We saw the frailty of human life and the power of community in one day we’ll never forget.