That's kinda what it's like to be on very short notice to move.
For three to six months of the year, because I'm part of an expeditionary combat support squadron, a select few wind up with the (un?)fortunate task of being online. This means that if some kind of situation occurs where assistance of a military nature would be beneficial, we're the people that are supposedly lined up and ready for action within about 12-24 hours. There aren't many restrictions on personnel during the online period, but I suppose that the main ones are that we must remain sober enough to drive (< 0.05 BAC) and able to report back to base within twelve hours (or generally stay within a three-hour 'radius'), which is somewhat harder to manage during the holiday season.
I don't drink very often, and have found that when I do, I'm better off only having a couple anyway. So it's really no big deal for me to avoid imbibing alcohol when I'm on annual leave. The tricky thing for me about a week ago was that when I initially got a message/call about flooding in Rockhampton, I was in Melbourne... about a twelve hour drive from Newcastle. I wasn't given much information initially, but as soon as I was told I was on 12 hours notice, my already warped holiday sleeping patterns got slightly more erratic. It's like trying to sleep whilst knowing that your front door is wide open, or with your last thought that it's only four hours until your alarm goes off. You just can't put these facts easily out of your mind in order to get a decent night's rest.
Fortunately, a couple of days after the Rockhampton message, one of the Corporals called me back and said that if they were going to send any cooks up north, it would only be three or four and wouldn't be me because I was one of the furthest away from base at the time. I got to sleep easy that night, but after looking at the news reports I figured that they'd need able hands to help out with the search and rescue process, and maybe the clean up once the rain had gone away if anything. Not cooks. We're usually the last to be sent anywhere, so I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Yes, I am one of those freaks who actually wants to be deployed somewhere to assist wherever I can. I don't see the point in being online if we're seldom called up to do what we're on standby for in the first place.
A couple of days ago, Toowoomba was flooded. With storms equal or greater in severity to those that came through the area in the mid-seventies, Brisbane was next on the list with extreme flood warnings. Dams that had been built to circumvent flood damage mere decades ago were fit to burst, and just as I was settling into a lovely corner of the Blue Mountains (about three hours away from base), I got a phone call.
'Hey there, where are you at the moment?'
'I'm in the Blue Mountains, still on the way home from Melbourne. I think I'm about three hours away from base, but I'm heading back tonight.'
'Oh good. Because as you know, you're on the short notice to move team. We've now been told that sixteen of us, including you, are now on three hours' notice.'
'I'd better start driving, then.'
'Be safe, and speak to you soon.'
I drove back to base last night, and figured that I should just try to get a decent night's sleep instead of staying up to dye my hair back to black and pack things that I wasn't sure I needed. Got up this morning and made an appointment with the derby girl who put red in my hair in the first place, and while I was in the midst of normalising my hair colour again I missed a call.
It was work, informing me that there was a 5% chance we could be flying out tonight, so I should get my affairs sorted for a quick departure. Failing any further phone calls, we were to be meeting at 0630 the next day in cams, with an echelon bag packed and ready to roll. There was a 95% chance that a hundred people (including a selection of motley cooks) from our squadron will be flown north to help out with flood relief. That's pretty good odds of me not knowing where I'm going to be this time tomorrow, or next week, or even next month if it comes to that.
The thing is, you know that dodgy public toilet door feeling I was talking about before? That's what it's like when you really don't know what's going to happen and whether anything will even happen. I'm sort of anticipating things now, and I don't feel nervous so much as impatient about the timing of stuff. There's a small part of me that's enthralled by the logistics of organising such a massive rescue/cleanup effort, but I also don't want to get too keyed up about everything because there is still a chance that I won't get sent anywhere to do anything, and this time next week I'll be back in a kitchen about fifty metres from here, feeding the masses. I also have homework to do, laundry to sort out, and obligations to pull out of at very short notice... but that's a very tiny part of the bigger picture.
For all my whining, I am immensely grateful that I have the opportunity to do so from a position of emotional and physical safety. I've never had to deal with disasters of this scale before, and I'm not too sure what to expect. I hope to stay in touch with people over the next 24 hours, and may have access to my netbook while we're placed in transit accommodation, but there's no guarantees. In the meantime, take care of yourselves, and if there is anything you can do to help, please do.
Hang in there, Queensland.
