What makes anyone a hero?
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Circumstances? Absolutely.
Instincts? Inevitably.
Training? There are no university degrees in heroics.
Mostly it’s something the right person in the wrong place at the right time just does. Without thinking, without panicking.
David Harris was already a first responder, working on the community frontline as an ambo.
And when everyone in town knew the Campaspe was coming, David had quickly moved his family to the proverbial high ground and safety before heading back to see what he could save.
That’s when it all shifted from flood victim back to frontline responder.
When the floodwater started spilling into his home in October 2022, David was happy his family wasn’t there.
“I knew I could look after myself, but having young kids, I felt much better getting them out,” David explained.
No sooner had he got back to his home than the trickle became a torrent – soon he was waist deep and his escape route was gone.
“Once it sort of came into the house, I knew things were pretty serious and I was pretty much trapped,” David recalled.
“I couldn't have gone anywhere, the water out the front of the house was too deep.”
With Rochester cut off and emergency services initially unable to reach marooned residents, David stayed put, hoping the tide would turn.
He had food, drinking water and a generator – he figured he could ride it out.
Then the local CFA came to the rescue, the fire truck ploughing through the water as slowly as possible to avoid creating too much of a wake, and Cameron Lovering reached out a hand to pull him on board.
Dressed in board shorts and thongs and armed with a backpack of basic medical gear, a change of clothes and essentials, David was evacuated to Cameron’s own house, which had become an island in the stream was a refuge for people pulled from the flood, offering shelter while chaos continued unfolding.
He also asked if David could triage arrivals, especially those who had endured hours in the water and he immediately began assessing incoming survivors.
Most were holding up, but one elderly man needed urgent care after hours clinging to a fence post in the floodwater and he already had significant underlying health issues.
But getting him to professional care proved daunting.
Much of Rochester was isolated, with emergency resources and evacuation hubs stranded on the wrong side of the river – a small emergency services dinghy the sole link.
David coordinated the evacuation, liaising with contacts on the dry side of town before the man was boated across and rushed to hospital.
“There was no-one else over this side. There were no other resources here, no-one else who could do anything,” he said.
David spent two days assessing survivors at Cameron’s house until fresh medical supplies finally arrived across the water.
Yet David quietly brushes aside any praise or accolades that come his way.
“I didn't really have any other option. I couldn't go back to my home. I couldn't physically get there, or to my family,” he said.
What is beyond doubt is he was there, he almost certainly saved lives, and he could just as easily have walked away from the enormous effort he took on.
When the flood eventually receded, like the rest of Rochester, David returned home to face the devastation.
And like most of them, he had initially misjudged the scale of the destruction. His home would have to be gutted.
Having a builder for a brother helped accelerate reconstruction but David and his family still spent eight months in a caravan on his brother’s property.
And David makes no secret of being one of the lucky ones.
The fallout, however, has lingered, so long after the waters retreated.
David points at the heavy toll on his children, who had to deal with disrupted schooling and lost routines.
“I couldn't imagine going through something like that as a child. Losing your home, a lot of possessions, and then your schooling having to go to an unfamiliar place,” he said.
The psychological scars are yet to heal over, rising to the surface whenever heavy rain falls or the river begins to climb.
“When it rains, and we get a lot of rain, I get pretty nervous. When the river starts coming up, I get pretty nervous. I'm sort of like, ‘I hope I never have to do this again’.
“But the reality is it probably will happen again at some stage.”
Four years later, David doesn’t anchor his memories to a single defining moment.
Instead, the experience lingers as a tapestry of memories, woven with rising water, strangers at a makeshift refuge, and a gruelling recovery.
And he continues to wave away suggestions of awards or formal recognition.
For him, lending a hand was simply the obvious response when disaster struck a cut-off community – his community.
Yet his story remains a powerful testament to how Rochester’s residents banded together, when helping each other was the only option.