By the time the firefighter arrived, his own home was already in flames. There was nothing he could do.
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He had been seconded to Kurri Kurri in NSW's Hunter region to help a short-handed station on October 16 during a total fire ban. He had been attached to the A-Platoon at Mayfield West since 2010 as an operator on an aerial truck used for high-rise firefighting and rescues.
Steve Cox had been fighting fires with the state brigade for 33 years. He turned 60 this year and was looking forward to a steady retirement at his property at Girvan near Bulahdelah, tinkering with his collection of vintage cars, motorbikes and his boat.
When a neighbour called around 3.45pm that afternoon to tell him a fire burning some ways off on the Conger Road seemed to be turning their way, he had phoned his wife, Lyne, to check-in. A firefighter came from Cessnock to relieve him, and he sped home to lend a hand.
The fire, meanwhile, had ripped across the Upper Hunter countryside at a speed that was hard to imagine. Lyne barely had time to grab the keys and flee with the couple's four fox terriers - Roxy T Carmichael, Gidget, Dusty Springfield and Polly.
She drove through the flames to escape and was shaking when she met her husband as he arrived.
Forty-five years of Steve's life had been collected in countless possessions on their 100-acre home. In a matter of hours, they were gone.
The couple met 22 years ago in Maitland at a farewell celebration, just as Steve was transferred to the new Toronto fire station. He had been posted in Sydney as a recruit firefighter but returned home to East Maitland when the service opened a handful of new stations up and down the east coast. It was a lucky ballot draw that brought the kid from Jesmond home again, and he had spent three years on the day shift before the Toronto job came up.
Lyne, in another life, had been married to the mayor. She had dined with royalty when Charles, then the Prince of Wales, and Diana visited in 1983. A glove that the Princess wore was one of countless treasured keepsakes lost in the ashes.
Twelve classic cars, including a handful of vintage Holdens, ten trailers, a boat, motorbikes, a tractor, a treasured brass firefighter's helmet from the 1960s stamped No. 521 - belonging to one of the original NSW Firefighters - his service medals from his efforts in the Pasha Bulker storm among other jobs.
Irreplaceable photo albums filled with memories entwined with the story of the Hunter - Lyne christening a 747, meeting the royals - a rare coin collection, Lyne's parents' ashes kept in their home.
All the veteran firefighter could do was watch it burn. Or, as he had done so many times before, snap into action and try to save what remained.
Once he knew Lyne was safe, Steve jumped on a Rural Fire Service truck that had come from Taree to lend a hand and, knowing that his own home was lost, worked through the night to save three of his neighbour's homes and stop the blaze from jumping a road and spreading further. When it was over, he was exhausted and standing on the blackened earth, taking stock.
His father, Arthur, had always told him to get a trade or join the police force. He remembers a photo of himself, at six years old, with his classmates from Jesmond Infants School on the back of a big Bronto fire truck at the Newcastle Station.
"I'll always remember that," he said, "You wouldn't have thought then that I would end up being a Firie."
He was fitter and turner working shifts when he applied for a job at Lambton Fire Station in 1989, just before the earthquake. He was admitted in January that year and became a permanent brigade member in 1997.
"People that are firies love being firies," he said, "We do it as a passion ... We're all got the same goals, and all working hard, but when the shit hits the fan, we all get in and have a go. I love it.
"My body is letting me down. I'm 60. I'm at the end of my career, but if I were still young and fit, I'd keep going."
As his dream home fell into the inferno, Lyne asked if they would leave together and find somewhere safe to take stock. But there was still a job to do, and Steve wouldn't go.
"There was nothing to think about," he said, "I couldn't just leave. You couldn't have pulled me away with horses. The houses down Booral Road were in danger. The fire was coming. The winds were horrific ... there was no way I would have left."
Earlier this week, Steve returned to his Mayfield West Fire Station to receive replacement service medals by the Brigade Commissioner Jeremy Fewtrell.
"Steve is the epitome of a selfless firefighter," the commissioner said, "To disregard the destruction of everything you own to help others takes a special kind of person."
For the veteran firefighter, it was only the job that had to be done.
"I'm not interested in being called a hero," he said, "It's my job."
Since the fire, more than 100 people, including fellow firefighters, have been to the couple's property to help clean up and salvage what little they can. Steve said it was that kind of camaraderie that showed the metal of those who wear the badge.
"There is some bad stuff - you see a lot of bad stuff - but if you can handle that part of it, it's a good job," he said.