Scenes of desperate sadness as Greece deals with fires

On the side of the street, a group of firefighters are catching their breath.

They've been on the go for about 24 hours.

It's just gone midnight and they're preparing for the next phase of their task: house-to-house searches for victims; perhaps even survivors.

There are many elderly people in this seaside resort. There's a chance they could still be inside their damaged homes.

It's striking that some of the properties here are not damaged by the fires despite the flames clearly sweeping straight past. The land all around them is now ash.

It's the smoke from the flames which will have killed a significant number here.

And so even in homes not damaged, victims may still lie.

The rescue team have also found a small cat. As locals walk past looking at their devastated town they ask if anyone is missing their pet.

I meet a woman who considers herself very lucky. She, her house and her family are all safe. But her garden and her neighbourhood is destroyed. She cries as she tells me.

"It's silly to cry over my garden. Sorry," she says.

Loss is all relative in disasters like this. Some have lost everything. Others perhaps only their cat or their garden. But this is a community in deep shock.

All the survivors talk about the speed of the flames. It's hard to imagine, but flames in wild fires flow across landscapes almost like water.

Patches of land are ignited not just through contact with existing flames but simply through the heat. That's how the fires manage to jump across roads.

The erratic and unusually strong winds pushed the fires in various directions which changed quickly.

People said the flames seemed literally to be chasing them.

All over the roads is molten metal. The cars that did not actually catch fire melted in the heat.

Plastic headlights and taillights melted, dripped off the bodywork and have now solidified again.

I watch a troop of soldiers with torches pass along the eerily quiet streets in the hills above this seaside town. The electricity is out and the water is down. It's pitch black.

The soldiers explain that they too are going house-to-house, checking them for victims. They wander off into the darkness.

Nearby another group with torches pass by. They are locals, back to see what's left of their home.

Through the day, there have been scenes of desperate sadness as people return to the town they fled to find out of their family and friends made it.

The number known not to have made it is likely to rise above 100 in the hours ahead.