The Volunteer by Ed Caruana

Our pager wakes us day or night to respond without fear.

Leaving love with our family as they sleep quietly near.

To the station we all muster our mates of volunteers.

The radio beckons our orders, listening with our fears.

We hope and pray no one is fallen as we race towards the scene.

Bloodied victims? trapped in steel? Blazing fire, this time no dream!

Into action pumps fire up as we bowl and role our hose.

We must prepare to battle the beast from where as yet who knows.

The winds and flame race forward, blazing hard and heavy blows.

The embers, smoke and heat roll on as to do our fears.

Our goggles, masks and helmet cannot hold back the tears.

Your eyes begin to water, as you gasp for every breath.

Your nose is now a stream of water, could this be our death?

Your captain comes as you fail, to exchange and give you rest.

You enter the truck, relieved, finally receiving a quick breath.

A brief rest is all you have, as you turn to see your mate.

You don your mask and helmet to get out again its fate.

To the front you go again, relief is what he needs.

You know this yourself because you too could hardly breathe.

You swap roles and look ahead to suppress the coming beast.

You look around surrounded by flames and gut wrenching heat.

Your crew ensures your waters right, your truck is your safe place.

Then silence, finally it has passed, sad memories, everyone is safe.

Thankfully no lives were lost on this sad eventful day.

The Pappinbarra fires, homes left in black ash and grey.

Exhausted the home still stands as we pass other crews.

Their battle not yet over, good luck, we pray good news.

Home now to our families to shower and prepare.

Another day in Australia as an RFS volunteer.