For Bondi local and volunteer lifesaver Peter Carroll, the bravery of the survivors and victims of the Bondi terrorism attack has lived with him everyday since.  

 

Carroll had just finished celebrations at the North Bondi Surf Club’s Christmas party on December 14 when he heard what he assumed were fireworks. “I ignored it at first,” he says. “Then people started running towards me, screaming.”  

 

Even so, it wasn’t until the ricochet of a bullet on a metal pole a few metres away that everything snapped into sharp focus. 

 

Moments later, a young police officer - who he now knows to be 22‑year‑old Probationary Constable Jack Hibbert - sprinted towards him, covered in blood, accompanied by an off‑duty police officer in board shorts.  

 

Carroll helped lower Hibbert to the ground behind a parked police car, propped his legs on the bonnet and did the only thing he could: fall back on his training to save a life in a way he never could have imagined. 

 

“He was falling in and out of consciousness, so we were yelling at him to stay awake,” says Carroll. 

 

The bullets were still flying. Sirens layered over the noise, then helicopters, until the sounds blurred into one.  

 

“There was a moment [I got scared]... I remember thinking, what if someone comes around the cars and points a gun at us?”  

 

Carroll and the cluster of bystanders-turned-first responders worked on Hibbert and others wounded nearby for “what felt like an eternity at the time, but was only probably 25 minutes”. 

 

Once ambulances arrived Carroll didn’t think twice about climbing into the back of one to help paramedics, keeping both hands on Hibbert’s wounds for the entire ride. 

 

“He asked me to talk to him. No one ever asks me to talk that much,” he says, half laughing. Trying to distract Hibbert from the pain, he detailed his upcoming holiday plans as they rode to St Vincent’s. 

 

Inside the hospital, Hibbert was transferred onto the waiting medical team.  

 

Only then did Carroll step back, finding himself alone in a waiting room as families of the wounded began to stream in. A hospital social worker sat with him. His adrenaline, he says, didn’t subside until well past sunrise. 

 

 

Carroll, who works in Westpac’s institutional bank, says he’s had trouble sleeping in the weeks following the attack, but praises the layers of support that kicked in for him and others present that day, including counsellors at work and at his surf club. 

 

“The support has been overwhelming,” he says. “Humbling.”  

 

The community returned to the beach in the days after the attack, slowly at first. Carroll remembers the beachfront lined with abandoned clothing, left behind as people fled. Then, cafés began filling again. A week later, the red‑and‑yellow flags went back up.  

 

Then, a call on Christmas Eve from Hibbert himself. The Probationary Constable had spent only four months in the force when he was shot. 

 

With Carroll’s help, he miraculously survived, although his injuries have left him blind in one eye. He was calling to say thanks, happy to be released from hospital in time to spend Christmas with his family. 

 

The two have stayed in touch since, and plan to catch up for a beer next month.  

 

“That meant a lot,” he says. “It felt like a small piece of normality returned.” 

 

But Carroll knows life will never be the same for the families of those lost on December 14 – and says he hopes that in response the nation unites against antisemitism. 

 

“Jewish communities have lived with this fear for a long time,” he says, “for a millennia. You’d hope, in a country like ours, that we’d embrace differences... and prevent anything like this from ever happening again.”