Twenty years on from the Port Arthur massacre, Bathurst’s Glenn and Ann Cumbers hope that they might finally start to find some kind of peace.
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Two decades ago today, the couple were having lunch with friends just outside the Tasmanian historic site when gunfire broke out.
They originally planned to eat at the Broad Arrow Cafè where 20 people were executed, but at the last minute changed their plans when a couple from their church who lived just outside the entrance to Port Arthur Historic Site drove home, stopped and then returned to the church to ask the Cumbers to join them at their home for lunch.
When gunfire was heard, Mr Cumbers, who was a newly ordained minister at the time and a former nurse and trained first-aider, went with his friend Athol into Port Arthur after telephoning the site and being told by the person on the other end of the line that a madman had started shooting people.
The sight that met them was horrific beyond belief.
With so much in the media in the lead up to today’s anniversary, it is having a greater than expected impact on the couple.
Mrs Cumbers said every year on April 28 they remember, but usually they could do it quietly. Now talk of Port Arthur is everywhere, and with that comes the memories that have coloured both their lives for two decades.
Mr Cumbers had just turned 38 years old when he entered Port Arthur during the shootings. His hair went white overnight.
His wife was left alone for several hours not knowing if he was dead or alive. She had been stopped from entering the historic site to look for Glenn with the warning that no-one should ever have to see what had happened there.
The Cumbers had moved to Port Arthur six weeks before. Mr Cumbers had just completed theological training with the Church of Christ and it was his first posting.
They still harbour anger over the way they were treated by the church following the incident and the silence that descended in the wake of the tragedy as fear of losing tourists to the area took precedence.
“We were told not to talk about it to anybody. We received no counselling,” Mr Cumbers said.
That was the moment Glenn and Ann Cumbers lost their faith.
Mr Cumbers added that if he had received counselling at the time, the outcome for him might have been different. When asked for counselling support to be provided he was told it was not their policy to provide counselling.
Twenty years later he is still struggling. He has battled thoughts of suicide and struggled to hold a job.
He has been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and is now receiving counselling.
It appears to be helping. He has retrained as a horticulturalist and now has his own business, Bathurst Professional Lawn Care.
But it is hard to move past the movie of what he saw on that day which keeps playing over and over in his head.
Mr Cumbers said when he and Athol arrived at Port Arthur they could still hear gunshots from further down the road.
They came across people near the toll booth who were deceased, then Nanette Mikac and her two children.
“It was ages before the first ambulance arrived,” he said. “I asked for blankets to cover the children.”
He said when he went to the cafè all was quiet and, despite the carnage, there was only one broken window.
“I began to do triage. I saw a lady sitting at a table with half her head removed who was holding onto a cup of tea that wasn’t spilled.
“I came across a young couple. The young man was weeping because his fiancee was shot in the head and I put my arms around them both and held them tight.
“I held the hands of others who were dying because I didn’t want them to die alone,” Mr Cumbers said, breaking down.
“There was a locked door and bodies tangled against it, but I was never allowed to talk about that. Not being allowed to talk about that door was very difficult and upsetting.
“I and a volunteer ambulance officer had to untangle the bodies piled up near that door to check for signs of life while family and friends of the victims looked on through the glass door from the outside.
“I was there for five-and-a-half hours trying to save lives and comfort others. There would be time for prayers later.
“At the end I needed to care for my family. I was standing on the road alone. I didn’t even know where I was.”
Mr Cumbers said he believed people who lived around Port Arthur needed to talk about what happened and he saw that it was his role as a minister to facilitate that.
“These people needed to grieve, but the mayor just wanted things to get back on track and get the tourists back in,” he said.
The couple left Port Arthur on Australia Day 1997, less than 12 months after they arrived full of plans and hope.
And he was appointed police chaplain to Chifley Local Area Command.
“I think I am still alive because of the police and the support they’ve given me,” he said. “I often think they are the only ones who understand what I had gone through. Their job is very stressful and they often don’t receive the support they deserve.
“Having Ann as my wife has helped me cope and so has gardening and learning to cook. Gardening is very therapeutic.
“I want to say that if someone is struggling they should talk to someone,” Mr Cumbers said.
The couple say there is life before the shooting and life after the shooting.
“For all the bad days, there are still good days,” Mrs Cumbers said. “For 20 years Glenn has felt less of a person because he didn’t know how to cope.
“We feel people should remember the darkest day in Australia’s history and the impact it has had on all who were there. There is a culture of violence in this country and we should acknowledge that.
“It’s taken us 20 years to say that we, too, are survivors.
“Life goes on. It’s different, but it goes on,” she said.
Originally published as Search for peace after Port Arthur by the Western Advocate.