Authors: John Mannion
As the rescuers neared the scene they could pick out, in the dim glow of the emergency lighting and from the arching light thrown from their torches, the first surreal glimpse of the torn metal structure. They could hear the muffled noises of survivors still trapped in the wreckage. There was the eerie sound of the groaning of twisted metal. Some of the rescuers took a moment to pause, to take in the scene and to brace themselves for what horrors lay ahead of them.
On reaching the safety of the underground station, the survivors came upon a hectic scene of activity. Organised chaos! Emergency services were assembling to mount a full scale rescue operation. The survivors were weary after their ordeal. They were filthy and in shock, tearful at reaching safety. Their mouths were dry and their lungs full of choking tunnel dust. Some of the injured staggered, blood streaming from their faces. There were burnt faces; others with open wounds. The survivors were ushered through the throng on the station platform to two large lifts which took them to the station lobby. From there they were taken up steps and ramps to the surface and to the waiting rescue teams and ambulances gathering at the entrance to the underground station. Those with the most serious injuries were evacuated immediately to hospital. Many lives would be saved by the skill and dedication of the paramedics on this desperate journey.
Prior to being sent home or on to hospital, those with less serious injuries were treated by paramedics and hospital staff by the roadside, in the backs of ambulances, or in other emergency facilities which had been set up in the immediate aftermath of the incident on the, now traffic-free, Marylebone Road. All were screened, with personal details being recorded by police officers at the scene.
The rescue team at the scene of the incident clambered into the wreckage, losing their footing, cutting hands and tearing clothing as they did so. Inspector Thompson took stock of the scene, assessed the situation, issued instructions and organised his team as all around people groaned and sobbed. In his eighteen years in the Transport Police the forty-year-old had never come across such carnage.
Sergeant Price looked upon the scene he had returned to and noted that a number of people had stayed behind to tend the wounded. He knew that some were probably relatives or friends of the injured, but others would be those selfless souls to be found in any crisis,who were always ready to lend a helping hand to others in their time of need.
The rescuers made their way through the carriage, assessing the injured, pushing and ripping aside debris, all the while prioritising the injured for treatment and evacuation from the scene. The rescuers were themselves soon covered in grime and blood. The conditions were grim. The atmosphere was claustrophobic. The heat was stifling and the air was thick with smoke. Some pleas for help fell upon deaf ears – if the injured could speak they were likely to be in a less critical state than the silent soul next to them. Sergeant Price told one man to ‘Snap out of it! Take deep breaths!’ in an effort to help him re-engage his brain. The dead and injured had injuries caused by flying objects, by being thrown around inside the carriages of the train and internal injuries. One man had injuries caused by shrapnel that had torn through his face, jaw and neck; another a piece of metal embedded in his skull. A woman had a hand missing. Others had blood coming from the ears and nose. All were still in a state of shock.
While the survivors were being treated for their injuries, a doctor silently made his way through the wreck, examining the still and silent bodies, pronouncing life extinct.
For the remaining survivors found in the wreckage, the arrival of the rescue teams brought hope that an end to their horror was in sight. Many of the survivors and their rescuers would be left mentally scarred by what they witnessed at the scene of the conflagration. Many more – families, friends, colleagues and acquaintances of the deceased and those saved – would also find their lives affected by the events in that underground tunnel.
The scene at emergency departments of several of the London hospitals receiving casualties from the incident, was reminiscent of a battlefield. Full of bleeding, broken people – some staggering about, others lying in corridors. There was pandemonium as doctors, nurses and paramedics struggled to deal with the casualties. Reception staff struggled to cope with the numbers arriving and management fought to ensure resources were available to handle the overwhelming situation referring, on occasion, to operations manuals covering such emergencies but finding the reality very different from planning meetings and exercises. Young medics and nursing staff, some not long out of training, found the numbers and extent of the injuries overwhelming at times and had to be supported in their lifesaving endeavours by older, more experienced team members. There were individuals suffering from shock and lacerations and those with severe head, chest, stomach and limb injuries, all needing different levels of attention from the dedicated carers in whose hands the victims’ very lives now depended.
Many heroes emerged that day – in the emergency services, in the hospitals and amongst the general population. What none could have dreamt, however, was that in the weeks and months to come even greater horror lay ahead.
The investigation began with the assembling of the usual teams to be found in the aftermath of any major incident of this kind– Accident Investigators, Police Detectives, Police Photographers, Scene of Crime Officers, Forensics Officers. However, it was quickly established from evidence at the scene, and from interviews with survivors, that this was an incident involving an explosion. Into the mix, therefore, came Counter Terrorism Officers from the Metropolitan Police and their colleagues from the Security Service, often referred to as MI5.
The man now in overall charge of what had become an investigation into a suspected terrorist outrage, was Deputy Assistant Commissioner (DAC) George Braithwaite, Head of the Metropolitan Police Counter Terrorism Command (SO15). SO15 had been set up as a unified command structure to better combat the new wave of global inspired terrorism. It replaced the old Metropolitan Police Special Branch and Terrorism Branch. The DAC in charge of SO15 was also the National Co-ordinator for Terrorism Investigations.
DAC Braithwaite visited the emergency services’ Forward Operations Base at Regent’s Park Underground Station soon after the explosion. The media were present in abundance as he arrived at the police cordon, which was blocking access roads around the station. He determined to make every effort to avoid them.
‘I won’t be speaking to the news hounds just yet, Ian. Go straight to the station Entrance,’ the dour Scot instructed his driver.
By the time of his arrival the rescue operation was well underway. The station, surrounding streets and nearby Regent’s Park were a hive of activity. In the air was the clatter of the rotor blades of police helicopters and those of the London air ambulance, which were utilising Marylebone Green at Regent’s Park as a landing pad. Regent’s Park, situated just across Marylebone Road from the station entrance and no more than a couple of minutes by ambulance from the scene of the incident, was being used to evacuate by air the worst of the casualties, to allow prompt treatment and avoid any delay which may have been incurred in the congested traffic.
Marylebone Road was backed up onto the A40(M) with traffic and the other roads in the busy West End were also gridlocked. All London Underground train services were stopped and the stations closed. Emergency service vehicles were coming and going from the scene all the time, ferrying casualties to hospitals throughout London and bringing in more teams to bolster the rescue effort and investigation. The numbers of the emergency medical personnel in attendance were swelled by doctors attending a conference at the nearby headquarters of the Royal College of Physicians, located at Regent’s Park. These doctors, along with other medics and nurses from private hospitals and clinics nearby, including the world famous Harley Street, made an invaluable contribution to the lifesaving effort in the immediate aftermath of the attack.
DAC Braithwaite was keen to establish some clarity for himself. Speaking with senior police officers, forensics investigators and other participants in the ongoing rescue effort, he caught up with events, enabling him to set out the immediate priorities and direction of the investigation and organise his teams.
One of those he spoke to was Sergeant Dave Price, the Transport Police officer who had been a passenger on the train. Sergeant Price recalled his experience on the crowded underground train immediately before the explosion and his participation in events after the attack.
‘The train was crowded as always at that time of the morning. Nothing unusual as far as I could see. However, the seat of the explosion was at the other end of the carriage from where I was standing and we were all packed in like sardines in a can. It was difficult to see anything much except faces and outstretched arms hanging on as the train started to move.’
On his way out of the underground station, DAC Braithwaite noticed the tiling on the walls of the station. It was reminiscent of an earlier time – the Victorian era or some such period. ‘Late nineteenth; early twentieth century,’ he mused. A time of terrorist activity by anarchist refugees from Eastern Europe. ‘Only the names seem to change,’ he thought.
After his visit to the scene of the outrage, DAC Braithwaite returned to Scotland Yard to give a briefing to the Commissioner and other senior Metropolitan Police officers and civilian staff at a meeting of the Management Board, the Met’s most senior decision- making body. He also prepared to begin liaising with other law enforcement agencies. This included the Regional Counter Terrorism Units and security and intelligence agencies, as it was likely that the investigation would not only be national, but international. The Met would also be requesting manpower and resources from other police forces to assist them in their investigations, with enhanced security measures and to help them maintain effective routine policing in the capital in the aftermath of the incident.
As the liaising began, the forensic teams and explosives experts at Regent’s Park scoured the train wreck at the start of their detailed search for much needed evidence. Police photographers photographed the scene from every angle, not only to aid the investigation, but also for use as evidence at any subsequent trial. Material evidence and human remains were examined at the scene prior to removal for further analysis in the forensic science laboratory and mortuary. The evidence gathered would allow investigators to identify parts of the remains of the bomber and the constituents of the bomb – several kilos of home-made high explosives, created from a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and pepper, detonated by a 9 volt battery.
This painstaking work was carried out in appalling and hazardous conditions in temperatures reaching over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
Police detectives embarked on the daunting task of putting together the moments leading up to the explosion and interviewing witnesses. In the following days and weeks many hours would be spent minutely examining hours of CCTV footage in an effort to identify the bomber and any accomplices. Pathologists would conduct autopsies as the dead still had the story of their final moments to tell.
And then there was perhaps the most daunting task of all, contacting friends and relatives of the deceased and injured and dealing with the phone calls from concerned members of the public. All this was made much more complicated by the cosmopolitan nature of the great metropolis that is London.
‘Shit!’ murmured Detective Sergeant Ed Malone as he put his phone down.
‘So the bastards have slipped through the net again.’
Ed looked over his desk to his young subordinate, Detective Constable Stuart McDonald.
‘Stuart, grab your coat. We’re on. There’s been an explosion on the tube at Regent’s Park.’
The two SO15 officers walked in silence to the bank of lifts located just outside their open plan office. They descended to the vast underground car park. As they walked briskly to Ed’s old car, the chill of the air in the concrete labyrinth made them shiver, the smell of petrol fumes assailed their nostrils.
Ed was 50 years of age, 5’11, of stocky build and with a rugged look about his face. His thick crop of red hair made him stand out in a crowd. He had been in the Metropolitan Police for thirty years and a detective engaged in counter terrorism for many years now. Ed was a seasoned officer of the old school. He believed in investigating crime and arresting criminals heedless of any political dogma; that justice should be blind. He had sound intuition and a dogged determination. An honest and hard working cop who just wanted to get on with the job.
Ed had been brought up in a fairly conventional Irish Catholic background in his home city of Glasgow. His parents insisted on regular church attendance on Sundays and other designated Holy Days. As a child he used to dread these attendances; standing, kneeling and sitting. The congregation choreographed, as if by some unseen hand. During the sermons, as the priest spouted fire and brimstone, his mind would wander to some far distant place. In church and at home he heard enough to understand the malign influence religious scriptures could have. More to the point, how people would use religion and interpret its scriptures to their own ends. This understanding had helped him in his early days as a young detective attached to Special Branch in Northern Ireland.
‘You know, Stuart, there’s a fundamental lack of appreciation of the influence of religious beliefs, or nationalism, amongst most of the English. Except when it comes to football. Beliefs which are so fundamental to people’s lives throughout the world. As a Scot, you know what I mean! This lack of appreciation is a serious chink in the nation’s armour, especially when combined with the institutionalised desire to appease, which prevails amongst the nation’s ruling elite.’
Stuart groaned inwardly. He could feel his sense of hearing switching off as Ed’s voice droned in the background. Ed was well known for his rants. The terrorist threat, the education system, the state of Scottish football. You name it, Ed had strong opinions.