Cyclone Tracy – Darwin, 24th & 25th December 1974
In 2014, on the 40th anniversary of Cyclone Tracy, I retyped our memories and added to them.
Cyclone Tracy Meteorological Bureau Vital Statistics:
- Size: Gales extended to about 40 km from the centre.
- Diameter of the eye: about 12 km at Darwin.
- Maximum wind gust: 217 km/h before the anemometer ceased functioning; estimated gusts over 300 km/h.
- Central pressure: 950 hectopascals/65 metres per second.
- Storm surge: 1.6 metres measured in the harbour, 4 metres estimated at Casuarina Beach.
- Rainfall: 255 mm in 12 hours overnight.
- Death toll: 65 people.
- Injuries: 145 serious injuries, over 500 with minor injuries.
- Number of houses destroyed: About 70% of houses sustained serious structural failure.
- Total damage bill: Up to $800 million (1974 AUD).
Earlier in December, breakup parties on the last day of school had been cancelled, as schools closed due to a cyclone threat. The cyclone came to nothing, so we thought perhaps this one would do the same. Of course, we had no television or computers with BOM sites.
The usual recorded cyclone warning on the radio was first heard during lunch hour on Tuesday, 24th December, and at frequent intervals during the afternoon and evening. We were warned to take bottles off bars, pictures off walls, and fill the bathtub with water. We were instructed to open windows away from the wind and close windows facing the wind, adjusting them after the lull, as the wind would change direction.
Under no circumstances were we to shelter under an elevated house, but were advised to stay upstairs in the hallway or in the strongest room.
I filled the car’s petrol tank at 3 pm, bought kerosene, batteries, and matches. We filled hurricane lamps and put the primus on the stove in case of a power failure. The fridge was full of delicious Christmas food, so we hoped the power wouldn’t go off. What a nuisance it would be to have a mess in the yard on Christmas Day!
Our friends Kerry and Elaine from the College were in Brisbane for Christmas holidays, and we were minding their utility and their Labrador, Torah. Simon roped the boat securely and brought the Mazda and the utility under the house, and we put the guinea pigs in their cage and covered them securely. Simon brought Torah and our Labrador, Laika, upstairs at 10 pm.
Our neighbours over the back fence were a policeman, Lance, and his wife, Dagma, and their baby. Dagma rang to see if we needed help, as her husband had seen Simon struggling with the heavy, frightened dogs. We reassured each other that our houses were ‘battened down’ and there was nothing more to be done—we joked that if her house landed in our backyard, we’d have coffee ready and vice-versa!
We read stories and got 3-year-old Vanya and 4-year-old Dima off to sleep as normal. A Christmas surprise was bright new curtains and bright coloured bedroom stools in each of their rooms, along with the presents, which we placed around the Christmas tree in the lounge.
We went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I got up and dressed in jeans and a winter shirt, as I felt goosebumps all over. I kept my ear to the radio, and the ABC commented that if necessary, they would stay on air all night for the latest cyclone reports. They went off the air in the stormy conditions around 1:15 am. The last report was that the cyclone was 28 km away, travelling southeast at 6 km/h. It was expected to strike the coast in the early hours of the morning, but with a 40 km width, it had already really started.
The front door blew open at 1:30 am, and the wind was so strong I couldn’t force it shut—in fact, for a moment, I thought Simon must be pushing against it from the outside. The door was solid jarrah, and the knob had made a big hole in the wall. Simon wedged a chair behind it, but it didn’t hold for long.
Simon was keeping an eye on the roofing iron, as the front corner was lifting, and he suspected we’d lose it all. He remembers the noise—the scraping, screeching noise of loose sheets of iron banging up and down. The reality of having wind and water inside the house seemed just unbelievable.
Dima woke up because of drips of water falling on his face. The new curtains hung from door height, but the louvres went up to the ceiling, and although they were locked tightly, the rain was coming horizontal, forcing around them and reaching right across the room. The curtains were dripping, and the bedspread was getting wet, so we shifted the bed away from the window, but this really didn’t help.
Vanya woke up too, frightened when the manhole in his room blew up into the roof space, leaving a big dark hole. I was relieved to see the roofing iron was still on.
The curtains were dripping, the sea-grass matting was floating, and water was spreading quickly over the floor throughout the house. I planned that Christmas Day wasn’t for hard work, so I’d leave the curtains hanging at the windows to dry, but the matting was going to be a heavy job, and the beds being wet was just one more problem to solve.
I took the boys into our double bed, thinking they might go off to sleep again. A branch came through the louvres, and the wind, even from that small hole, was frightening. The curtains were blowing up against the ceiling. I drew the curtains and put a spare mattress against the windows.
All this time, Simon was busy checking things around the house and under the house. The boat had loosened and was rocking, but the cars were okay.
At 2 am, Vanya really wanted to go to the toilet, so I tucked Dima in with pillows all around, and off we went down the hallway. We had just started back when there was an almighty crash of exploding glass all along the front of the house. We sank to the floor and stayed in the toilet while Simon raced to get Dima. Actually, Dima was halfway up the hallway and got a fright bumping into Simon in the dark. He had received a cut on his ankle from flying glass, but he was very brave. The ankle was bleeding heavily, but we wrapped it in a towel, and it soon stopped.
Simon brought towels, pillows, cushions, lounge cushions, life jackets, and blankets for protection and warmth, so sitting it out in the toilet seemed quite snug. We had the hurricane lamp going, which helped keep us warm and cheery. We were all soaked, and the boys had towels wrapped around their pyjamas. It wasn’t really that cold, just very wet, and we were a bit shivery with nerves.
Simon dragged all the mattresses up the hallway to outside the toilet in case the walls collapsed. I held Dima, and Simon held Vanya until the lull at about 3:30 am—a relative calm for 10 minutes.
While we stayed in the toilet, Simon raced about the house, doing everything, including bringing the dogs from the back balcony into the bathroom, putting electrical goods into cupboards, and bringing a jug of milk, water, lollies, and cookies into the toilet. We reorganised the wet cushions around us and prepared for the long sit-in until 6:30 am. We honestly thought the second half couldn’t be as severe as the first half.
The second half of the cyclone came from a different direction, from the northwest, but still onto the front of the house. It was much stronger and really rollicked the house. It reminded me of an old Melbourne train doing a very fast express and bouncing about, with noise that was terrific and deafening. As schoolgirls in the 50s, we enjoyed the thrill of opening all the doors and windows of these express trains from South Yarra to Caulfield. The toilet wall was moving so much I couldn’t rest my head against it. Within the toilet, Simon and I had to mouth words, lean close, and yell to communicate.
Simon managed to get out every now and then and bring back reports of the destruction as it progressed. He reported that our bedroom air conditioner had fallen to the ground, and he moved it off the back stairs in case we had to leave the house. Dagma and Lance’s house had gone, and half of Peg and Vince’s house had gone. He reported that our end bedroom wall was gone, and the lounge room wall was holed.
It seemed unbelievable, sitting in the warmth of the toilet, rocking and patting the boys, telling them stories right into their ears so they could hear about Grandpa’s veggie garden and holidays there. They were half asleep and quite calm. My stomach by this stage was in a nervous knot, and I felt like dry retching.
If the house broke up, we had planned to try to reach the back door of the dental clinic next door. This would have been impossible because of the rubble stacked 3 metres high in the backyard. The whole roof of the clinic, beams and all, had landed in our backyard upside down, made a deep hole in the yard, and iron was twisted around the big stringybarks. The three big black wattles had gone, and Simon could see all the way to the high-rise apartments in Milner.
On Wednesday, 25th December, at 5:30 am, first light, Simon said he should go and check on Dagma, Lance, and their baby, as he could see their house was completely wiped off the floorboards. But as the wind was still so strong and noisy, I told him to please sit for another half an hour. I didn’t want the boys to feel the wind and experience the trauma if Simon should have an accident.
Our side neighbours, Peg, Vince, and their baby, had only half of their walls standing and had struggled through the cyclone to reach the nearby school, getting repeatedly blown over. At 6 am, Vince pounded on the toilet door and said we should leave the house and go over to the school—they had found a safe, dry room. I looked out and saw things flying through the air, the wind still battering, and a car tyre bouncing past. I decided to dig back into the toilet with the boys for another half hour. I couldn’t believe that the cyclone was almost over or that it wouldn’t turn back and strike again. Above all, I wanted to protect the boys from the sight and sound of it all.
I think the boys and I would have stayed in there all morning had not Lance, Dagma, and their baby pounded on the door at 6:30 am. They were very shocked, as they had laid on their bare floorboards, protected only by their bathtub full of water, their glory box, and an ironing board for hours. We gave them clothes to put on. The baby refused drinks all morning, and Dagma was worried, as she and Lance had been lying on top of him, but he recovered later that day.
Before we could venture from the toilet, we all had to get shoes on, as glass was everywhere. Getting wet shoes on wet feet with shaky hands is quite a feat! When we finally emerged, the sight up the hallway where the end wall had been and through where all the trees had been was unbelievable. We realised we were on a hill, and for miles over the suburbs, nothing but the colour grey and black stringybark trunks, stripped bare. It was like the effect of an atomic bomb or a bushfire.
We found the only iron left on the roof was one sheet over the toilet, and that was the only room where the windows didn’t break. The Masonite ceilings throughout the house were intact, although sagging and running with water, and the rain and wind were still strong. As the primus was on the stove ready to use, everyone got a cup of coffee after we placed the boys’ long play table on the benchtop to keep the rain off.
The uncooked turkey came in handy that Christmas morning. We filled the big preserving pan with rainwater, as there was no power or running water, and made turkey soup with onions, barley, and all the available vegetables. As the fridge had warmed, just about everything went into that soup. We had the soup for Christmas dinner with a glass of wine. Actually, soup was about all anyone could swallow, as our mouths were dry with nerves and shock. We’d all been dry retching a bit. Simon and I downed the wine, but Dagma and Lance couldn’t face theirs. We had to position our bowls and glasses between the waterfalls from the ceiling.
I put raincoats on the boys and their big plastic rain hats, and with wet pyjama legs hanging out underneath and shoes with no socks, they really did look an unfortunate sight. I wished I’d taken a photo, but it was a busy, dramatic, shocked sort of morning—besides, the roll of film was floating in the lounge room. There were no digital cameras in 1974. The boys seemed unscathed from the night, apart from being pale and shadowy-eyed. They managed to find their Christmas presents, which were in a sodden heap in one corner along with the Christmas tree and heaps of glass and garden bits. They didn’t seem to mind everything being wet and had wonderful adventures in the rubble in the yard later on.
Simon first put a tent up in Dima’s room, which seemed in the best order, least damaged. As the tent had a waterproof floor, we used that as our dry room for the next two days. In this tent, baby Karl finally got off to sleep on Christmas Day, and Vanya and Dima also had a nap in the afternoon. Dagma and Lance spent time searching the wreckage under and around their house and found the baby photo album, but it was very wet. Lance found his wedding ring but couldn’t find the car keys or his police pistol. It took Simon and him ages to break the steering lock to get it on the road, and luckily, they found the pistol too.
I packed everything that was still dry from the cupboards into big garbage bags and later stored them in the tent. The insides of the cupboards were flooding fast, and it was a hard job heaving wet blankets, bedspreads, sheets, and mattresses downstairs for drying whenever the sun came out. Things were very dirty and covered with leaves, glass, and twigs, but I had no time, energy, or water for washing things, so I dried them dirty and packed them into plastic garbage bags. In that humidity, I didn’t know how much would survive the mildew.
As it rained and blew most of Christmas Day, it was rather drippy and wet inside. Our house and the one opposite were two of the few in the area that didn’t sustain too much damage. The end lounge wall was holed and fractured, as something had gone straight through the wall and the fish tank, so fish were dead all over the lounge room. The far bedroom wall had been sucked right out. All the louvres along the front of the house—five large windows—were mostly gone, and the back ones were partly missing. All the roofing iron was gone, but the roof structure was in good condition, and the ceilings were intact. Simon walked miles to find sheets of iron straight enough to put up over the kitchen and tent room. We had to bore holes in our good jarrah floor to let the water out. The sea-grass matting was smelly and growing white fuzz, so we had to wash the floor with disinfectant, which we found in the clinic, to get rid of the mildew smell. Amazingly, the new curtain from the lounge room window was way down the backyard, draped over the upturned roots of a big black wattle tree that had fallen over the back fence, so we allowed it to dry there!
By far, the highlight of our Christmas Day was that Wob, our wallaby, came home to check us out. We had nursed her from when she was tiny, as her mother had been killed on the road. Dima had taken her to preschool, and she was very loved. She had grown strong and had disappeared a month or so earlier, although she was often spotted down at the creek. On Christmas Day, she was outside on the road. Simon went down, picked her up, and brought her into the house. She had grown even more and looked healthy. She jumped around the house and then left. She returned the next day and then must have made her break for freedom.
By far, the worst part of our Christmas Day was learning about the loss of a young girl we knew, Geraldine. The news was devastating, and it’s something that has stayed with us. The pain her family endured is unimaginable, and we carry their loss in our hearts..
Again, our policeman friend Lance said the worst thing that day at work had been digging out a whole family from the rubble in the Northern Suburbs. We all felt sad, but didn’t know at that stage that it was our friends, the Knox family. Later on in Maldon, Mum happened to read out the names of those killed in Tracy, and I was shocked to hear their names—Mike, Dawn, and their children Stephen and baby Catherine.
Christmas night was spent in the tent; no mattresses or pillows had dried. The boys were disturbed but very good. I was up dry retching most of the night. It was a terrible storm, with clanging iron, lightning, thunder, and heavy rain pounding on the ceiling. Although we were dry in the tent, it afforded little protection against the falling ceiling and fan.
Simon suddenly dived out of the tent and, for the next 15 minutes, worked harder and faster than I’d ever seen anyone work. First, he brought the ladder in and placed it above the louvres and across to the hallway walls, beneath the fan and the ceiling. Then he repeatedly brought in beams from the backyard rubble and placed them across with the ladder and crisscrossed on top of them. Finally, he brought two doors from downstairs and placed them right on top. He was soaking wet and exhausted, but he’d got his energy from somewhere. He laid down and was soon asleep, while my eyes stayed wide in absolute wonderment. I dozed off towards morning, but the boys were restless and woke early.
On Thursday, 26th December, Simon was up at first light, dressed in immaculate long white trousers and a shirt, with a whistle tied to his lapel, looking very official. He said he was going to “get” a generator, as the meat in the deep freeze would have been thrown out that day. He came back beaming an hour later, and the sweet sound of a little Honda soon filled the house, and the deep freeze light was glowing. Apparently, when questioned upon removing the generator from the showroom window, he gave his name, address, and car number plate, and said it was urgently needed out at Casuarina, and the police were wanting to know if any more were available. Yes, there were four more, so Simon informed Lance, and the police sent a car to the showroom for them.