10. The Bill Cases: Cut and dried

Lifting his head to inhale the early morning, Shane O'Neill was suddenly caught and forced to bend over in a coughing fit.

'Bugger me,' he thought as he gasped for breath. After last haymaking season he had been laid up for weeks with a bad case of Farmer's Lung and he devoutly hoped he wasn't due for a relapse. He needed to start baling today and could not afford lost time with the wind getting up the way it was. Wiping his mouth, Shane straightened up and drew another careful breath of the morning air.

'You right there Shane?' called out his wife, Mary, from the kitchen.

'Fine love, fine. Just caught a bug in me throat,' he lied.

Shane surveyed the view from his veranda, looking out over his back paddock hayfield to the low hills of the State Forest bordering his land. Shane scowled, he could hear the faint sound of an illegal chain saw in the forest.

'Bloody Thompson brothers' he swore. 'Those clowns are in the forest again!' he called out to Mary. He heard Mary make a 'hurrumph' sound and mutter 'idiots'. It had been wet through spring and early summer. It had been a good growing season for grass, but that also meant lots of new undergrowth in the forest creating lots of tinder. Dangerous to cut timber in this weather, everyone knew that.

His grass had grown well, but the weather had stayed damp until just after Christmas. Only in early January had the dry started, so his cut was late this year. But the weather had finally turned and turned with a vengeance. They were now in the middle of a heat wave and had already had three consecutive days of high temperatures. Everything was starting to get crackling dry. Today was forecast at over 100f with a late cool change, so he needed to get his skates on and bale this hay before it dried out too much or got wet and became useless as winter fodder.

'I'll be back at dinner-time,' shouted Shane to Mary.

He heard her faint 'Mind how you go, luv' as he strode off.

...

Mary bustled about the house and kitchen all morning, washing breakfast dishes, grumbling about Shanes' dirty footprints on the kitchen floor, cleaning up and trying to get the bulk of her work done before the heat set in. The north wind began to gust its' furnace blast through the open windows around mid-morning and Mary hustled to shut up the house to keep the cool in and the heat out. As she did so she noticed a tickling smell in her nose. She froze for a second then began to rush to shut the windows tight. Racing to the rear veranda she scanned the horizon. A hot gust of wind blew the faint smell of smoke in her face and she knew for sure. Fire, burning in the hills, not visible yet, but it was there and it was coming.

...

Shane didn't notice the smell until he was at the end of the paddock, as far from the house as he could possibly be. He stopped the tractor and stood up, scanning the nearby hills. The wind blew a fierce gust of hot air, smoke and the smell of burning eucalyptus into his face. Shane began to cough again, and as he watched, it seemed like the entire ridge of the hillside suddenly exploded into a sheet of flame. Hurriedly he sat down and tried to restart the tractor, but the engine stalled. In a panic and coughing harshly, he tried again but flooded the engine. Shane heard an almighty roaring sound behind him as the trees on the hill began to crown-fire. The sky was filled with smoke and glowing an evil red. The north wind was blowing the flames directly down-slope towards the hay field.

'Bugger it, bugger it, bugger it,' He muttered frantically. The engine wouldn't start. He leapt from the dead tractor and began a staggering run toward the house. Ash, smoke and burning embers began shower around him. Coughing and desperately trying to catch his breath to run, he did not stand a chance as the winnowed mounds of dry hay caught fire and the inferno overtook him.

...

The fire was fast and vicious. It burned through the hills and scrubland, the wind throwing burning embers high into the air to rain down miles away and start new spot fires. All CFA volunteers of the Ballarat Rural Fire Brigade were called out to fight the blaze. They cut firebreaks in the hills and back-burned large swathes of forest edges to protect homes and cropping land. Men fought the fire determinedly, but it was an afternoon cool change and rain that really halted the progress of the blaze.

The CFA had arrived at the O'Neill farm in time to save the house and the outbuildings. They found Mary frantically beating out embers with a wet burlap sack. The men pumped water from the house dam and stopped the flames from reaching the house but the hay crop was gone, fences torched and the paddocks burnt black and smoking. Stock was missing or dead. In the distance they could see Shane's burnt out tractor. Mary was distraught and had to be forcibly restrained from running out into the burned paddock to look for Shane.

Shane's body was found only a few hundred feet from his burnt out tractor by the CFA clean-up crew. Senior Fire-fighter Jake Roberts reported the death to the Ballarat police and a requested the medical examiner to attend.

Dr. Lucien Blake arrived at the burnt out O'Neill farm late afternoon accompanied by Senior Sergeant Bill Hobart. It was a grim scene that greeted them. The once pristine farmhouse was darkened by soot and ash. The elm trees around the house were singed and leaves turning brown. The fields behind the house were black and steaming with evaporating rain and smoke. The late rain had put out most of fire in the paddock but there was a line of fire-fighters working the tree line checking for smouldering logs and stumps.

Mary O'Neill sat on the back veranda rocking back and forth and keening softly to herself. Roberts was with her and he rose to greet the two men as they approached.

'Bloody hell.' Said Blake softly, appalled at the devastation.

Bill Hobart said nothing but his face was grimly set.

'It's bad.' said Roberts after introducing himself. Motioning the men to follow him, they left Mary on the veranda and moved off into the burnt out paddock. Roberts brought them to Shane and the men stared down in horror at the charred remains. Bill felt sick at the smell of burned flesh. He did his best imitation of an Easter Island statue trying to compose himself.

'Looks like he was caught trying to outrun the flames,' said Roberts.

'He wouldn't have been able to run fast or far, his lungs were shot.' replied Blake sadly. Shane had been a patient of his and Blake knew all about his recent illness. He knelt down and examined the body carefully. 'Why didn't he drive the tractor back?'

'Mary said the old thing stalled more often than it run. It must have died on him and running was his only option. The fire was that quick he didn't have a chance.' responded Roberts.

Bill looked at the nearby hills. 'How did the fire start? There have been no reports of lightning strikes and I cannot think anyone would be foolish to have a campfire going on a Total Fire Ban day.'

Roberts shook his head. 'Not sure yet, but from what we can tell it started up in the hills behind the farm. We'll be doing a thorough search of the area in the morning.

'I'll be coming with you for that,' insisted Bill. Roberts nodded in agreement.

'Doc,' continued Bill, 'We need to talk to Mary, she'll be in shock. You need to see to her before arranging for the body to be removed.'

'Of course, of course.' Blake was aghast at the scene around him. Although he had grown up in the area he had never experienced the results of a bush fire close up. It was bringing back some horrible war memories. Giving himself a shake he recovered and said, 'I have some mild sedatives in my bag.' With that the three men returned to the house to wait for the arrival of the ambulance to remove the remains.

...

Bill sat with Mary on the veranda. She had stopped weeping and seemed calmer after the sedative Blake had given her. She was nursing a strong, sweet cup of tea that Bill had made for her as they both silently watched the arrival of the ambulance. Blake was in the paddock directing the vehicle to approach.

'I would have liked to have seen my Shane,' murmured Mary.

'No Mary,' said Bill as gently as possible. 'It is best you don't.'

'Still...' she hesitated. '25 years it's been... 25 years.'

'Please, trust me, you don't want to have that memory of him like that. He was a good bloke, your Shane was. Remember him like that.' Bill said.

Mary set her tea down and buried her face in her hands. Bill waited patiently, watching the ambulance in the distance. Mary gave a bit of gulping gasp, wiped her face on her apron and picked up her cup of tea. She took another scalding sip of the sweet, strong tea.

'It were those Thompson boys.' she stated.

Bill looked at her in surprise. 'Jimmy and Bruce? What do they have do to with this?'

Mary looked at Bill defiantly. 'Those two, they've been up the hill cutting timber. All week. With that clapped out old chain saw of their Dad's. That's where the fire came from. Thems the ones that started it for sure.' she settled back, her face set and too another sip of tea.

Bill considered.

Dusk was beginning to fall as the ambulance rolled its way back out of the hay field. Bill and Mary watched it leave as Blake slowly walked back to the house.

'You'll be staying with your sister in town tonight.' Bill stated, it wasn't a question.

'Yes.' Mary was defeated.

'If it was the Thompson boys, I'll get them Mary. No fear, I'll get them.'

Mary shot Bill a glance of thanks as Blake mounted the veranda steps. Bill stood up and took the cup from Mary's hands. Looking at Blake he said, 'We'd best be off then.'

...

Early the next morning Bill joined Roberts and the CFA crew assigned to investigate and locate the source of the fire. Bill had his Basic Fire Certification so was permitted to ride on the CFA truck as observer and investigator. The men had to factor several variables to track the fire progress back to the ignition point. Weather was a major factor, the strong wind coming from the North meant the fire tracked southerly. The topography of the area showed the fire followed the ridgeline of the hills before crowning down to the bottom lands. And finally, the heavy fuel load of the surrounding bush area showed a clearly defined burn track through the State Forest lands behind the O'Neill property.

They progressed slowly up through the ranges, stopping often to put out small smouldering fires, stamping and burying them under shovel loads of dirt. Logs lying on the ground and large trees were heavily burnt on one side also indicating the fire direction.

Smoke and ash was still heavy in the air. The rain over night had settled things down, but also turned the burnt areas into a muddy, ashy, quagmire. Much of the ground fuel load had burned off quickly before the fire had leapt into the tree crowns. This made movement through the dense scrub somewhat easier as the truck followed the old logging trail up the hill and along the ridgeline.

It was late afternoon when the men came to an area of forest that indicated the starting point. A large swath of trees had been clear-felled. Large stacks of cut cord wood were burnt into crumbled piles of char. The men walked through the area noting where a recently felled string-bark tree smouldered and smoked. Roberts prodded the fallen tree with his shovel.

'Cut recently, I'd say. Still green inside which is why it didn't burn through like those wood piles.' he commented to Bill who had joined him. Bill walked around the fallen burned giant shaking his head.

'Didn't think there were any logging licenses granted for this area.' he said.

'There isn't.' Replied Roberts. 'I'd say this is pretty much an illegal lot. Locals probably scoring a bit of the firewood trade for free.'

'Tyre tracks here,' pointed out Bill. 'Leading off downhill, away from the fire. The Thompsons live down that valley, don't they?' questioned Bill.

Roberts nodded. Just then a shout from one of the other fireworks called their attention to the far side of the fallen tree. There, in the middle of a large burnt out section of underbrush was the warped and melted carcass of an old chain saw.

'That's it then.' mused Roberts. Bill looked at him and cocked an eyebrow in question. Roberts kicked the lump of metal, 'This model must be 15-20 years old. My Dad had one. Notorious for spitting petrol and shooting sparks. Whoever was cutting this tree yesterday started this fire, panicked and fled.'

Bill considered. 'I reckon I need to go have a little chat with the Thompson boys about this, eh?'

Roberts nodded. 'Yup.'

...

Before he could visit the Thompsons', Bill had to return to the Station and file his report. He also needed to make a few phone calls around town asking questions. Bill then told his boss, Chief Supt Matthew Lawson, his suspicions about the Thompson brothers. He stood in front of Lawson's desk while the Chief read his report, waiting for the outcome.

Lawson looked up from his reading at Bill, 'So you reckon the Thompson boys were responsible for the fire?'

'Probably not intentionally, but everything points to them being responsible,' responded Bill.

'Your evidence is pretty flimsy, Bill,' pointed out Lawson. 'With a death it is a pretty serious accusation.'

'We've taken casts of the tyre tracks that lead to their homestead. If we can match them to their ute that puts them at the ignition point of the fire. Also, I've made a few inquires at various woodlots in town and it seems they have been supplying stringy-bark firewood on the side for a few months now.'

'Hmmmm,' mused Lawson. 'Cutting from the State Forest without a license is illegal. Selling the wood is also illegal, how have they managed to get the woodlots to take on their cut?

'Seems they have been saying it's all from land clearing on their property. It's not illegal to sell the cut from your land. Thing is though, that side of the hill they live on is mainly old ironbark, all the stringy-bark was cleared out there years ago by the diggers. But all they've been selling is stringy. Most of the stringy is up in the hills where we think they were cutting and where the fire started.

'Right,' said Lawson. 'Go out and see them first thing in the morning. Oh, take Charlie with you, those two have a bit of a rep as brawlers.'

Bill grinned. 'No fear Boss.'

...

The sun was just beginning to warm up when Bill and Snr. Sergeant Charlie Davis drove into the Thompson homestead. The place was an older house, on the verge of tumbling down. Ancient outbuildings clustered around the rear of the house and a few scraggly chickens scratched forlornly in the dirt driveway.

'Not much to look at, eh?' commented Charlie.

'Thompson family have lived here for yonks. Family had one of the original square mile blocks divided out in the 1800's,' Bill informed Charlie.

'Looks like they haven't remodelled since last century.' Charlie observed.

Bill gave a snort. He pulled the police car up to the house and stopped. 'You go check out the outbuildings, see if you can match that tyre track. I'll go chat to the boys.'

Bill got out of the car and climbed the front steps up to the porch while Charlie scooted around the back with paper rubbing taken from the cast of the tyre tracks. Bill stood and listened for a second. From inside the house he could hear someone coughing. Lifting his hand he rapped sharply on the front door. He waited for a moment but there was no answer except the sound of faint coughing. Bill lifted his fist and thumped the front door harder, calling out, 'Jimmy? Bruce? Open up! It's Bill Hobart come to have a chat!' Bill waited again, still no answer.

Charlie came from around the side of the house and joined Bill at the front door. 'Looks like the tyres match. And the truck is pretty badly marked up with smoke and fire damage. They were in the fire for sure. Lots of wood in the back of the ute, but no chain saw.' reported Charlie.

Bill nodded, then banged on the door again. 'JIMMY! BRUCE! I know you're in there, I'm coming in!' He put his shoulder to the door and with a heaving push the flimsy frame gave way and the door burst open. Bill and Charlie lurched into the front room and looked around at the dishevelled mess. The sounds of coughing were louder now, coming from the back room. The two police officers followed the sounds and looked into the rear bedroom.

'Bloody Hell!' swore Charlie.

In the two single beds lay Jimmy and Bruce. Bruce was unconcious, his face a red mess of blisters, his hair and eyebrows burned off. His hands and feet were bound in oozing dirty bandages. In the other bed lay Jimmy, curled into a foetal shape coughing violently, black mucus spattering his pillow.

'Better go radio for an ambulance, Charlie,' instructed Bill.

...

'Will they survive?' asked Lawson back at the Station House.

'Bruce is pretty crook, burns to about 30% of his body. He tried to put the fire out with his feet and his bare hands. Doc says he has a good chance if infection doesn't set in.' said Bill. 'His face is a mess though, scarred for life.'

'And Jimmy?'

'His lungs are pretty much stuffed. He'll survive, but he won't ever be fit again.' reported Bill.

'Did he say what happened?'

'Yes, like we suspected, they were logging for firewood in the State forest. They had their Dad's old chainsaw they were using. Jimmy was loading cut wood into the back of the truck. Bruce had just felled the stringy-bark and was trimming off the branches. The saw started to overheat and began spitting petrol. Stray spark caught the petrol and set the underbrush alight. Bruce threw the saw away and spilled more petrol spreading the fire further. He tried to put it out by stamping on it and slapping it with his hands, but his hair caught. Jimmy dragged him away and rolled him in a sack to put out the flames. By then the fire was out of control. Jimmy was breathing in a lot of smoke, he panicked, threw Bruce into the ute and they fled. Just ran home and hid. Said he didn't realise how bad Bruce was until he got him home. Tried to bandage him, but he was so sick from the smoke he just passed out. Didn't know much of anything until we came and found them.'

Lawson sighed. 'Idiots. Just plain idiots. They are lucky to be alive.'

'Pity Shane O'Neill didn't have their luck,' said Bill sadly.

...

Several hundreds of hectares of bush-land, forest and farmland had been destroyed. Thousands of pounds worth of stock, fencing and outbuildings had been lost. No homes had burned thanks to the efforts of the CFA, but the financial effects of the blaze would be felt in the Ballarat for many years. There were many injuries and burns, but Shane O'Neill was the only death. Jimmy and Bruce were charged with criminal negligence and manslaughter and each was convicted to 20 year stretch. A goodly portion of that time was spent in prison hospital. Neither they nor Mary O'Neill ever recovered from the effects of the fire. And as stoic as he might seem to most, it was many months before the image of Shane O'Neill in his hay paddock stopped haunting Bill's dreams.

...

Wild