Name: Ernie Le Brun

Age: 94
Occupation during 1939: Bush Boss at Skinner's New Mill at Royston
Age at time of fire: 28
Location of interview: Alexandra

"I don’t think I was ever more frightened in the army than I was in that. Just the feeling you got no hope of getting out."

I spent five years in the army, and I don’t think I've ever seen anything as bad as that. The fire, the trees are high and the blaze coming up you know 100 feet or so above the trees.

I don’t think I was ever more frightened in the army than I was in that. Just the feeling you got no hope of getting out.

I never had such a feeling as that I don’t reckon, in the army, although I was in some pretty hot spots.

Yes, it was certainly terrifying.

During the Second World War, I served all through the Middle East, through Africa then came back for a week's leave and that’s when Rose fell pregnant. But the baby Mike was stillborn. Then I served in New Guinea and went through to Greece where I was wounded.

Well, I was happy at the time to get out, it was right when the Germans broke through into Greece and I got three bullets through the shoulder, and a bomb went off right beside us. I got hit up the side with the bomb and the three bullets at the same time, but I was dead lucky because it was in the early part when the Germans broke through and I got out. I’ve still got shrapnel in my shoulder and down my side.

I had two brothers killed in the First World War and one in the second. A younger brother died at about five from a snake bite and then Tom was killed in the ‘39 fires.

"And I’ve always been guilty about sending this bloke back when he didn’t want to go – he died up there with my brother."

At Skinner's New Mill, I was Bush Boss in charge of all the men at the mill and I was working with my brother Tom at the time. We were shifting the steam winch and word came out to us from the boss of Skinner's Old Mill below us, that we had to take our gang to try and save a winch on top of the Blue Range about six or seven miles away. So we had to put down everything and I took my gang, and away we went. On the way to the winch, we had to walk in past the mill houses, and I said to my brother Tom, if the fire comes this way, there is no hope of the mill houses being saved.

I lived in one of these mill houses with my wife Rose and Tom lived in another mill house with his wife – who was Rose’s sister – but she was in town having a kiddie at the time so we buried her best crockery in a tin trunk, and I left a big hole for Rose to bury ours. It was Tuesday morning, and it was such a bad morning with the wind and word had come out that I had to take the men up there to try and save this bloomin’ winch.

I took 13 men, including my brother Tom up the mountain to try and cut a firebreak between the fire and the winch. Well, we had no hope of cutting a firebreak.

This is just the thing I can never understand - why I didn’t make all of the 13 men just go back down to safety. I can never understand why I didn’t say, “Look, we can’t save this winch”. It was ridiculous, all us men had was an axe to cut tree branches to use to try to put the fire out with.

And I decided that there was nothing for all of us to do. We decided to leave seven men up there and the rest of us would go back to try and save the women and children at the mill. I decided to go down to try and get them down to the powerhouse. One of the young chaps with me had his wife and baby at the mill.

My brother Tom stayed there with the seven. And I’d just started down with one young chap, he was the last, four had already gone. There were six in total of us going back and we’d just got down a bit and Tom sung out, “I’d like another one, make eight to stay”, and I said to this George Brundrett, “You’ll have to go back George”. And he said he didn’t want to go, and I said, “We’re all supposed to stay there and you’ll have to go back”. And I’ve always been guilty about sending this bloke back when he didn’t want to go – he died up there with my brother.

"The force of the fire and the winds were that strong, they couldn’t stand by themselves holding blankets there. The fire was like a train coming through those doors."

We started heading back down and were six or seven miles away when we saw another fire coming up from down below us. We looked back up to where we left the men and there was thick black smoke coming up and we knew then they’d never have any hope of getting out.

You could see the smoke coming up from below where the women and children were, it was red and we practically ran all the way, jogged and ran, and passed the men that left before us about a mile down.

Our mill was sort of over a range at the top and they just couldn’t see the fire coming, but we knew what was coming. I met the mill boss coming up the hill with the women and children on the truck. It was lucky it was on the tucker day and they used to have a big platform on the truck for all the stores to go on. The width of the truck was about four-foot wide and about eight- or 10-foot long.

And they were all on that and I said, “Look, we haven’t got long to get down to the powerhouse. I’ll take over”, and this mill boss went back to the dug-out. I took over and made the horses go quicker, they only walked normally and I made them trot. I got quite a bit of abuse from one of the old ladies on that truck. She said, “You’re frightened”, and I put up with that for quite a bit and I said “You can’t see what’s coming”.

It was so rough for them to sit on, I can understand, with me making the horses go quick. Now when we got just above the powerhouse, I unhooked the harnesses off the truck and gave the horses a hit on the bum. Then we all ran down a steep little hill to the powerhouse, by this time the fire was lighting all around.

By the time we got to the powerhouse, I reckon we got there with about three or four minutes to spare.

These big wire doors were built for the powerhouse for the air to go through and up onto where the turbines were. They were six- or eight-foot wide and nearly 10-foot high. When the fire got there we put a table up against it and four men stood on the table and two got under the table with the blankets, to block the wire doors. The two men standing on the table holding blankets at the top had to have two men each holding them, the force of the fire and the winds were that strong, they couldn’t stand by themselves holding blankets there. The fire was like a train coming through those doors.

"Don’t go any further Ern" he said. "We can’t recognise any of them" ... When those men couldn’t recognise their own brother, I couldn’t go."

Our mill, Skinner's New Mill, was a very big mill, 180 feet long, with a big gable roof, strong enough to hold 100 ton of snow, and that wind turned that roof off and over into the log yard like it was nothing. It was just unbelievable. If you imagine that a man couldn’t stand at the door without one holding him. That’s how strong the fire was.

I suppose we were in the powerhouse, it might have been an hour; it might have been half an hour. When the fire was gone, we got out of the powerhouse; I don’t know how long we were in there, time just sort of disappeared.

The next day I went back to go and see where my brother was.

I got nearly up to where they were on the winch, on the tramline, and I met four blokes coming down.

One of these blokes’ brothers had been up there too, and he said, “Don’t go any further Ern”, he said. “We can’t recognise any of them”. So I never went that last bit to see them, I just couldn’t bring myself to go and look at them. When those men couldn’t recognise their own brother, I couldn’t go.

It always had me upset because I got him the job up there to start and he liked the mill, and it was very hard for a while.

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