RFS Middle Arm brigade captain Jamie Buck dies in his sleep after fighting fires all summer
Telegraph cartoonist and volunteer firefighter, Warren Brown, pays tribute to a local hero and a larger-than-life character - Middle Arm RFS brigade captain Jamie Buck - who died in his sleep after leading his team to fight bushfires all summer.
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It was just over a week ago when the lightning hit our place. It was one of those days when the mercury hovered somewhere around 40C — the levels of unbearably dry heat in the bush become somewhat academic when the temperature creeps that high.
The thunderstorm rolled overhead that afternoon promising rain, but delivering only jarring thunderclaps and the flash of white-hot electricity to bone dry bushland.
It was my nearest neighbour Terry who rang from his farm some 3km away asking me to go outside and see if the mountain on our property was on fire — and indeed it was — a pall of light grey smoke wafting from the top of the ridge line above us.
Then, flames. This truly spooked me — as a member of the Middle Arm Wayo Rural Fire Service (RFS) I’d been called out to several fires this season where I’d seen first-hand the rolling terror of the Green Wattle Creek bushfire and properties under siege — the thought of our place succumbing to the all pervading reaches of a catastrophic fire made me feel sick.
I called triple-0 to report the fire and then rang our Brigade Captain Jamie Buck.
A REASSURING VOICE
Jamie’s voice on the phone was more than enough to stop panic setting in. “Not a worry mate — on our way.”
When your house and property is under threat, these few words are what you want to hear. When people speak of someone being a natural leader Jamie Buck personifies the description.
During this fire season — even when he wasn’t rostered on — Jamie would be waiting at the station at some ungodly hour to make sure we’d returned safe.
A veteran of countless bushfires, a career Corrective Services Officer and, as a young bloke, he had achieved everything that could be achieved in the Australian Scouting movement.
One of his great passions is the bush — not just the bush as in the countryside where he’s never happier, but the bush as in the people who live here.
RFS IN HIS DNA
A big bloke in every sense of the word — big in build, big in voice and even bigger in personality — he has the RFS in his DNA. After all his Dad Ken and his son Josh are members of the Brigade too.
Three generations in one tiny outback Brigade.
I threw my RFS protective gear in the back of the ute and drove the meandering goat track to the mountain top to find the first fire truck had already arrived and the hoses were being spooled out.
The lightning had blown the top of a large eucalypt into matchsticks and the fire had taken hold within — the tree was in effect a vertical, black chimney belching embers into the surrounding scrub.
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My kids were asking me: ‘Will you live mummy?’
I can tell you, it was a great relief to see the crew and in particular Jamie, there on the fire ground, a welcome face in the acrid smoke and billowing flames gaining hold of the scrub. He smiled reassuringly, dripping with sweat from the astonishing heat and gave me the thumbs up — we’ll get the fire out.
Indeed it was put out, but it took several hours to bring it under control. Jamie strode through the smoking fire zone looking for embers, smouldering remains, making sure the blaze had been completely obliterated, advising me to keep an eye on the mountain over the next few days.
SIXTH SENSE
Fire is insidious, it can smoulder inside and underneath even the most seemingly extinguished wood; even hot rocks can kickstart a blaze.
The following day I regularly studied the mountain through a pair of binoculars, yet by early afternoon I was convinced it was no more, when at five, Jamie called me.
“It’s Jamie mate. Would you go back up the mountain and make sure it’s completely out — then we can tick it off as being finished.”
I climbed into the ute and pointed it toward the track when to my horror, I suddenly saw the top of the ridge well and truly ablaze.
This time crews arrived from all over the district to smash it completely.
Jamie clearly had an uneasy feeling, a sort of sixth sense that the fireground needed to revisited, and without him calling me to have another look who knows what would have taken hold up there and what destruction it would have wrought.
I don’t know that I’d ever felt more grateful. I said to Jamie when all this is over I’m throwing a bloody huge party to say thanks. But it is not to be. On Saturday morning I received a phone call — Jamie Buck, 49, had passed away in his sleep overnight. You could have knocked me down, and like many, I’m still having tremendous difficulty with his unexpected death.
I don’t pretend to know Jamie nearly as well as those who grew up with him or worked with him in the Goulburn community, but this much loved son to Ken and Robyn, loving husband to Amanda and dad to Josh and Kaelisha, has left an indelible impression on everyone who was privileged to have met him. Jamie Buck will still hold the title of Captain in the Middle Arm Wayo Brigade.