Bushfire survivor David Barton watched as the town he loved burned, but a decade on, he still battles Black Saturday demons

Ten years on, memories remain vivid for a determined Marysville resident. But David Barton said it was the legacy of the fire and its impact on thousands of lives since that he fears most.

DAVID Barton was standing on the main street of Marysville when reality set in.

Before him raged a monster — a wall of orange flame stretching almost 100m into the sky.

Above it, a heaving acrid plume of smoke churned and twisted, blocking out any remaining light.

The fire that would destroy Marysville on Black Saturday had already started to devour the top end of town.

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His eyes were stinging as the hulking front fuelled itself on the town’s oxygen. It was hard to breathe.

“That’s probably my defining memory,” Dr Barton said. “Seeing that incredible wall of fire and realising it was too late. I knew it was time to get out of town.”

Ten years on, memories remain vivid for this Marysville resident. But Dr Barton said it was the legacy of the fire and its impact on thousands of lives since that concerned him most.

The 62-year-old is numbered among the hidden toll of Victorians whose lives fell apart in the aftermath of Australia’s worst natural disaster.

Today, he lives in a shed on the outskirts of town and cannot afford to rebuild.

In better times he had a successful antiques and collectables store with his former wife. But the fire destroyed everything.

In the years that followed his marriage fell apart (“I wanted to come back to Marysville. My wife didn’t. That was the case with many couples”) and during his darkest chapter, he contemplated suicide.

David Barton lives in a shed on the outskirts of Marysville. Picture: Jake Nowakowski

It’s a familiar pattern, repeated but barely spoken about across the communities worst-hit by the 2009 disaster — a legacy, Dr Barton said, that continues to burn just as ferociously as that monster at the end of the main street did a decade ago.

It took the completion of a seven-year RMIT PhD research project to finally give him the courage to confront his demons.

Now he hopes the research might offer hope to victims still grappling with the past, and underline lessons still to be learned by authorities.

Seventy-five survivors were interviewed as part of his paperDisaster in Relation to Attachment, Loss, Grief and Recovery: The Marysville Experience can be found on the RMIT website.

The impact of losing everything of significance — post-disaster attachment trauma — was one of the main factors identified through the research.

David Barton, right, with Premier John Brumby at a relief centre in Healesville in 2009.

From loved ones to pets, possessions or even the ability to participate in the community, Dr Barton said such immediate losses were compounded for many Marysville residents when they were prevented from returning to their destroyed properties for six weeks.

“It proved very traumatic and damaging, not only for me, but many others as well,” he said.

The issues worsened when many returned to discover the remains of their houses and businesses had been bulldozed — in some cases even looted — in the intervening weeks.

Then came the funerals. Dr Barton counted close friends and associates among the 40 people who died at Marysville.

“I think I’d attended six funerals when I said to my wife I simply couldn’t do it anymore,” Dr Barton said. “It was too traumatic.”

David Barton lives in a shed on the outskirts of Marysville. Picture: Jake Nowakowski

His research also highlighted examples of how communities had been disempowered.

Dr Barton said government bureaucrats had, perhaps with the best of intentions, created situations where residents were not consulted, especially when it came to new infrastructure. “We ended up with many inappropriate buildings and unattractive structures and a process that seemed to exclude the community,” he said.

In one example, $750,000 was spent establishing a men’s shed, however it was built in a residential area and, following complaints, was built to look more like a house.

He claims changes to fire regulations were just as absurd. Today bushfire communities are dogged by rules which create additional impost and expense; everything from a requirement to have a water tank in the front yard, to swapping plastic fly wire doors for a metal alternative. In the meantime, Dr Barton said the bush had grown back to almost impenetrable levels only metres from homes.

David Barton among the ruins of the Marysville fire in 2009.

“How can it be possible that such thick bush still remains so close to an urban area?” Dr Barton said.

“If another firestorm hit Marysville — all those regulations would go up in flames along with every new property.”

He said the frustration felt by survivors extended to the staffing of government departments. A raft of expertise had been lost since 2009 and new officials had little experience, he claimed.

“I have learned that my personal circumstances will eventually resolve themselves — it’s just taken far longer than I would have hoped,” he said.

“I’m living in a caravan and a shed. Some people may say that it’s my choice, and it was initially, but it’s not my choice to be consigned to that lifestyle forever.

“My options are limited, yet I am content. I’m happy, I have no regrets.”

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