Two accounts from the Grenfell Fire- one a firefighter the other a Control Officer.

Grenfell Inquiry Chairman praises London firefighter.
The Grenfell Fire Inquiry- 19th July.

Two uniformed people, one male, one female. One riding a fire engine the other in the control room and both with only nine months experience serving in the London Fire Brigade at the time of the Grenfell fire in 2017. There were many outstanding acts of professionalism and courage that tragic, and fateful, night. These two accounts provide a just flavour of what both London firefighters and the Brigade's control officers encountered.

PROBATIONER FIREFIGHTER Harry Bettinson (HB). (Paddington Red Watch.)

Probationer Harry Bettinson with female colleague at Grenfell.

HB undertook his ‘Babcock’ recruit firefighter training in February 2016. During his 11 weeks basic training he received one document on high rise fire procedure, practised bridgehead procedures, but had no practical high-rise training and no input on the dangers of flammable cladding in high-rise buildings. Asked if he was aware of the problems metabolic heat stress, the signs and symptoms, he confirmed he was and sighted the benefits of his real fire training. At the time of the Grenfell Tower fire HB was in his 9th month of service.

A crew member on Paddington’s pump he was one of five ordered to the ‘make-pumps 6’ at Grenfell Tower (01.15). In his testimony to the Inquiry HB considered he was attending a ‘normal’ high rise fire, when wearing BA he and his crew mates reported to the 2nd floor bridgehead. They were directed from there to the 6th floor where they found the smoke was worsening and shapes lost their definition. They were evacuating the sixth floor flats and came across a family of five. The crew manager and two firefighters provided assistance as the family ‘self-rescued’ to the lower floors. Firefighters Bettinson and Tillotson (also from Paddington) ran to the 10th floor knocking on ALL the doors to the flats on 7th, 8th and 9th. When they reached the 10th there was fire, a noticeable rise in both the heat and smoke levels. Without BA ‘comms’ they were unable to contact the bridgehead so returned to the 9th preparing to set into the dry riser. Smoke suddenly and completely filled the lobby.

Intending to get the dry riser to work and a hose line back up to the 10th when Firefighter (FF) WOLFINDEN and Crew Manager (CM)  GALLAGHER found a family in Flat 65, a mother and her daughter. It was thought that after taking the family from the 6th floor down the pair must have returned back up, following mine and CM TILLOTSON's footsteps. “We now had 2 jobs, we had a family to get out and a fire to fight on the 10th floor.” Flat 65 was over to the right hand corner as you entered the floor from the stairwell.

HB and CM TILLIOTSON were at the dry riser and FF WOLF1NDEN was at the flat door talking to the family. Then, in the space of ten to fifteen seconds, thick black smoke had filled the lobby area. They all entered the flat with the mother and daughter to work out what to do. Rapidly getting hotter and the smoke conditions were worsening they couldn't fight the fire as the priority was getting the family out. They would tell other crews to fight the fire on the 10th floor and continue with the checking of all flats from the 10th floor up.

There was no way to get the mother and daughter out without air. The heat and smoke was too much for them. The flat wasn't effected by the smoke or fire yet so was safe for now. However they could see the fire and bits falling past the windows. It was decided that CM TlLLOTSON, CM GALAGHER and a firefighter from Brixton called Ben (who was standing by at Paddington) would go down to get spare BA sets. Ben was very low on air. His alarm was already going off.
HB and FF WOLFINDEN stayed with the mother and daughter. HB secured the front door with a duvet and other items to prevent the smoke seeping into the flat. Knowing they had to conserve air, and it's really difficult to speak through their BA masks, they turned off their sets and removed the masks. HB stated, “ This is not the done thing, it's against our proper procedure, you are not meant to come off air until you get back down to the bridgehead, but normally you wouldn't be staying in the building like this.”

FF WOLFINDEN concentrated on speaking to the mother and her daughter to keep them calm. They could see debris and hot flames falling down past the windows. It was like fireballs and flaming arrows coming down.

The mother and daughter stayed calm the whole time. Not once did they panic, they just sat listening, and talking, to FF WOLFINDEN who was reassuring them. The girl was about 4 or 5 years old and not once did she make a fuss. HB had shut the windows as smoke was starting to come in. At this point he was still unaware how just big and serious the fire was but realised they were running out of time. HB went out into the corridor a couple of times to monitor the situation and see if the others were coming yet. The whole of the corridor was compromised, totally full of thick black hot smoke. He looked through the letter box of the next door flat and saw that they whole thing looked to be on fire.

HB was calling on the radio to his ‘govnor’ Watch Manager (WM) COLLINS. “We were thinking whether they could get the Turntable ladder (TL) up to us to get us out.” But 'WM COLLINS said there was no chance it could get anywhere near us. It was impossible due to the amount and size of debris coming down. The four waited in the flat for about fifteen to twenty minutes. At one point there was banging on the front door. HB opened it, much to the surprise of another BA crew, who were clearly going flat to flat to get people to leave. They asked HB what they were doing. Why we were in the flat with no masks on? Told of a family inside and waiting for their crew to return with spare BA sets to get the family out they continued their search and rescue role. HB shut the door and resealed it. The mother and daughter remained calm throughout.

Eventually CM GALLAGHER and CM TILLOTSON returned. As they entered the flat, and took their masks off. A short discussion followed as to how they were going to get everyone out safely. They had brought up 2 new BA sets but some were very low on air. Putting one of the new sets on the mum, a spare mask was hooked so the little girl could breathe HB’s air. Still she didn't fuss, even when the mask was put over her face. CM TILLOTSON was now virtually out of air. He attached his mask to the spare set and carried it. They had to go and quickly. HB picked up the little girl and held her in his arms against my chest. They needed to get down as fast as possible as we were low on air and the whole place was being consumed by the smoke.

With CM GALLAGHER leading, and clearing obstacles out of the way, HB followed carrying the little girl. The woman was behind him with FF WOFINDEN behind her assisting her down and CM TILLOTSON at the back carrying the spare BA. As soon as they left the flat they couldn't see a thing. In the stairwell the smoke was so thick and dense that BA torches were only giving 6 inches of visibility. There was no other lighting. It was black smoke and they had 9 floors to get down.
On the stairwell traffic had increased. There was EDBA crews going up. Passing them, due to the size of their kits was a real struggle. Protecting the woman in case she was barged into HB was having to be as careful carrying the child although she never once made a fuss. The stairwell felt even narrower than it had before. There were bits of hose and other things on the stairwell, CM GALLAGHER was guiding HB down and cleared the way, kicking at things to clear them out the way as we focussed on getting down as quick as possible. It was getting hotter the further down they got. The heat was taking over everywhere. The heat was now uncomfortable through their protective clothing. When they reached the third floor visibility was better. The bridgehead had moved to the 1st staircase in the lobby area. The WM (Station Officer) on the bridgehead took the little girl. HB removed her facemask and left her with the WM. The mother went with her, both conscious, breathing and seemed OK.

HB and the crew had gone to the tower when it was an 8 pump fire. It was a 25 pump fire when they entered Grenfell under air. On coming out it was a 40 pump fire. In his evidence HB said, “This was unreal, it's nothing you could ever expect. As a crew of four (me, CM TILLIOTSON, CM GALLAGHER and FF WOLFINDEN) we collected our BA tallies and we left the tower out through the main entrance. All of our ADSU alarms had been going mad, none of us had any air left. We needed to go and get our masks and kits cleaned off, get new air cylinders and complete an A-Test with the BA sets so that we were ready to go again.”

The Inquiry Chairman, Sir Martin Moore-Bick, praised Probationary Firefighter Harry Bettison after giving his evidence saying, “You paid a very important part in the Grenfell incident. Well done"

A Control Officer’s experience.

Sarah Russell is a Control Room Officer. Her statement was read into the Grenfell Inquiry evidence also on the 19th July. This is a summary of her story of that night.

I am a Control Room Officer (CRO) and have been in post, on the 'Watch' for the past nine months. I enjoy my job because it is very varied and no day is the same. Before working on the Watch I had to complete a nine week training programme. I began my training on the 12th September 2016. Every week we learned a new element before being assessed at the end. We had to pass each assessments before moving on to the next stage. Training also covered how to handle mobilising calls, when or when not to mobilise. For example, advising callers regarding fire alarms when cooking and explaining why we would not be attending.

We have access to some refresher training and updates can be frequent. It may be that there are new procedures to be undertaken that we need to keep up to date with, however more routinely we will cover this by asking other members of the team or the support team. Throughout we have access to policy documents and guidance when required. These are known as 'Reference Index Forms' or `RIF's' and offer a step by step guide if reminders are needed.

Working as a Control Room Officer covers a variety of roles. Primarily we are responsible for taking calls from members of the public. However we are also responsible for the management of resources, mobilising of appliances as well as handling logistics. The process of call handing is centred on trying to find out information quickly. Essentially we want to know the address and type of incident so we know what, where and how to deploy to the situation. We have to quickly find out the problem and then decide whether or not to deploy. If we deploy we check the address using our systems and then mobilise appliances using specific codes dependent on the call and then communicate the information to the nearest stations via a tele printer which advises the crews of the call they will be attending. There are no set questions that a CRO asks however, there is specific information that needs to be obtained. How we obtain the information is down to the individual CRO, but speed is essential. Therefore addresses and type of incident are paramount; names less so. Names would only be particularly necessary if we needed to call other emergency services such as the LAS or the police and we would pass on basic information.

Each call is handled on its own merit and dealt with specifically. It is standard practice that if a caller is calling from a landline regarding a fire in their property we will tell them to leave straight away. However, if they call via a mobile it affords us greater communication and we can continue to speak to them and offer reassurance whilst they make their way out. Typically, calls should last for about a minute and a half however it very much depends on the call and the caller. We will always try to keep the caller calm and safe until the crews arrive with them but at the same time we have to be flexible depending on the number of calls coming through and the available time we have.

Standard practice for most fire calls would be to advise the caller to leave, saying that fire crews would be making their way, who would attend and contain and deal with the fire. The vast majority of the time, that is the safest place to be and safest piece of advice to give. If they are unable to leave we need to probe further and ascertain why they cannot leave, whether it be for fire, smoke or heat. In the event that the situation changes and they tell us they cannot leave, this becomes a Fire Survival Guidance (FSG) call.

A FSG becomes active at the point the caller says that they cannot get out of their property and they are affected by smoke. If they are in a flat above or below a fire and not affected by smoke, it will not be a FSG. In the event of a FSG our advice centres on trying to make the caller as safe as possible until fire crews can get to them. We would advise the covering of gaps in doors with whatever can be used to keep smoke out. Ideally to keep windows open to let fresh air in, but if smoke comes in we advise they shut them and move to a room that is furthest away from the fire. There is a RIF for guidance in the event that anything is forgotten. FSG calls are very much lead by the caller, we can only advise.

Every call that comes in to the LFB is logged, regardless whether anyone is deployed to it. The incident will generate a number and the numbers then work sequentially. The numbers continue to go up and will only reset at the end of every year at midnight on New Year's Eve. Currently our number is around 132,000 I believe. Each call that a CRO deals with will have their initials next to the log number so that we are able to access the individual incidents that we have dealt with. Routinely, each CRO can look up any call they have dealt within the last three months using their own ID codes.

In the case of an incident that is not a basic fire, a high rise for example, more appliances will be sent. An increase in appliances can also be dictated by the number of calls that are coming through from the same address or post code. If we receive four or more calls to the same address, the system will automatically send a minimum of four appliances and a Station Manager (SM) in support. We will be notified of a reoccurring address because the system will have a flashing repeat button. The fourth call to the same address makes it a priority. The system is able to generate the message to be sent to the nearest appliances and then codes tell them what equipment is required. We can manually add more resources if necessary. These decisions will be made at the 'back of the room' by supervisors and managers. The supervisors' desk is staffed by the Operations Manager (OM) and two Assistant Operations Managers (A0Ms). The AOMs are our direct line managers, but the OM is in overall charge of the Watch.

I joined my Watch, Watch 2, nine months ago after the completion of my training. A Watch is allocated based on when you complete your training on the Friday; the corresponding Watch on the Monday becomes your assigned pattern. It is common for there to be a 'close knit' environment between Watches because you work so closely together. Watches work in a strict three shift pattern — 'days' and 'nights' are twelve hours, 0800hrs-2000hrs and 2000hrs- 0800hrs respectively. Sandwiched in the middle is an eight hour spare shift which is either 0800hrs-1600hrs or 1400hrs-2200hrs. The 'short shifts' are designed to provide support and back up to the core shifts. At present I will always be posted to the RML during my short shift because I am not trained to deal with other elements. However, in the event of a major incident we can be relieved from the RML and placed back as a call handler.

The Control Room uses computers as strategic resource. Often a TV is on, usually showing the news, so that we know what is going on. We are allowed to have our mobile phones with us whilst we work but a lot of the time we do not have the time to look at them. We are allowed to access the internet on the computers most of the time, using Google Maps for example, but it has been known to be prohibited because of the threat of cyber-attacks.

As of the 14th June 2017 I had been on the Watch for six months and had recently completed my probation. We were working a night shift and based from Stratford, our fall-back centre, because of routine maintenance at Merton. Stratford is a smaller Control Room than Merton. I was posted as a radio operator, monitoring channel 2 (south London), with Sharon DERBY who was operating channel 4 (North London). The first part of the night ticked over as a normal shift but after midnight I became aware of a call to a 4th floor block of flats. Initially nothing out of the ordinary, but then we started to become inundated with calls to the same block. Soon, all call handlers were busy with calls and I could see on the computer screens, a red button flashing which means there are calls waiting to be answered. The number of calls began stacking up and up. I asked Sharon if she would mind combining both channel 2 and channel 4 on the radio. My channel was silent so I thought I could help better by answering calls. I did not want to sit doing nothing when everyone else was busy.

Sharon agreed so I de-monitored my channel and moved back to call handling. The first call I took was about an hour long. I think it was about 1.15am when I answered and it was a young girl inside Grenfell Tower. I tried to find out basic information from her, such as the flat number, floor number and how many people were inside with her. She told me that she lived on the 201h floor but had gone higher to the 22nd. Once I had received the basic information and due to the influx of calls I thought about ending the call so that I could move on to take others. But then I thought again. I was talking to a twelve year old girl who was very scared, so I decided to stay with her. She told me that she had already been affected by the smoke and had tried to leave several times but was unable to go. I told her to go to the room least affected and to shut the windows, stay low to the floor and cover her mouth. When she said that the flames were outside the window it did not make any sense. The fire was on the 4th floor, so how could she be seeing flames on the 22nd?

I then started to hear calls coming from the 14th floor and it started to make sense — the fire had moved very, very quickly. I asked the girl what her name was and she told me it was Jessica. I asked Jessica if she was calling from her phone and I think she said she was. I asked to speak to someone a bit older to try and get some more information from them, but she did not hand it over. I do not know why. Perhaps she did not want to. I felt I needed stay with her and that she needed me. I asked her if she wanted me to stay and she said 'yes'. I am glad I did, even if it was only to offer her a little support.

The fact that she did not hand the phone to anyone else showed to me that she needed it. I stayed with her for the entire call which I think was about an hour. All I could do was offer support, to keep asking questions in the hope that her situation might improve, tell her the fire engines were there, fighting the fire and try and prevent panic. After about an hour I could not get anymore response from her, only rasping sounds, then nothing.

I stayed on the line a little while longer with my hand hovered over the call termination button. I was torn as what best to do. I eventually ended the call when the line fell silent. Reflecting on that call, I felt completely helpless. When people are pleading with you, saying I do not want to die and I cannot physically do anything to help them it is very hard. I can pass on all the information but I cannot actually do anything. That is very tough.

Not long after the call finished I became aware that the advice we were giving callers to stay where they were had changed to try and make attempts to leave via the stairwell. I think this was about an hour or two into the incident. I was told by Joanne (Smith), the Senior Operations Manager, and I think someone else too. I am not sure if it was a decision they made or if it had come from the crews on the ground.

Information about flats was being written up on to white boards at the back of the room and anything new we had to have passed to them. I have no idea how many calls I took. The time went very quickly. There was still a stack of calls that needed to be answered and we began telling them the new advice. We were able to tell on our screens, from the numbers, if the caller had called previously. There were quite a few that I spoke to on more than one occasion. It was relentless call after call after call. I do not remember ringing anyone back or even having the chance, just updating the callers with the new advice.

We kept asking them that if their situation changed, to keep calling us back which a number of them did. There was no time to look at names or any particular individuals, only the numbers. We gave the advice and then moved on time and time again. The calls got a lot quicker as a result, but on a number of occasions I was torn as to whether to stay with them or move on. The vast majority of time I gave the advice and moved on to another call. There simply was no time to offer comfort. By this time, the incident had become a 40 pump fire. An unprecedented level. Every single call was a FSG call. One after another, after another, after another.

With no time to stay with them I got the details and where they were and moved on trying not to get too emotional. Normally with a FSG call a supervisor will listen to make sure we are giving the right advice and pass on any messages to the radio operators for the crews on the ground. I remember looking up to see if anyone could help me but everyone was really, really busy. I remembered one of the AOMs, Pete MAY, say that we had to keep moving on. I asked him whether we should for every call and he said if we felt we needed to stay with the caller then stay. This continued on an on until about 5am. Between lam and 5am I never looked up just took calls, wrote down the details (flat numbers, number of adults or children, floors and the situation priorities). This became the norm and if I had a chance I would take the information to the white board myself.

At 5am there seemed to be a lull in the number of calls. It went eerily quiet and a little creepy. I remember someone saying, "I wish they'd call again". That way we would have known that they were still alive. The Control Room was completely drained and a number were very upset. I remember someone having a look on their phone at images when it went quiet. We had no TV on the Control Room so I had a look on the phone and then saw the extent of the blaze. I remember someone saying, "Oh my God! How is anyone still calling us?!" the whole building was on fire.

After 5am there a few calls but nothing in the realm of what we had dealt with before. A lot of the calls were from family members calling about relatives that lived in Grenfell Tower. I answered a couple but then moved back to my posting as radio operator. I remember messages coming from the police helicopter about a man on a floor who could not get out but could be seen from the window. I am not sure what happened to him.

I was aware that calls had been made for staff to come in and assist us and I remember Pauline, an AOM, coming in and relieving us so that we could take breaks. I cannot remember what time she came in. She was not alone however, lots arrived. We were told that we had to speak to the Counsellor before leaving. It was obvious that some people did not want to talk yet so they were told to expect contact at a later date. I think I left about 8am. I think it hit me when I was driving home. It was all over the news and the radio and that's when I got upset.

(From information held on the Grenfell Inquiry website.)

'They died simply doing the day-to-day job of a London fireman.' Dudgeon's Wharf disaster-July 1969.

For me, in that summer of 1969, the news of an unfolding tragedy came in the most unlikely of settings. I was delivering wine to a flat in Dolphin Square, Pimlico on 17^th July. The occupant, one of the shop’s regular customers, was an extremely kind but single, decidedly gay, middle-aged, man. Immaculately dressed and well spoken, his mannerisms clearly betrayed his sexual preferences. Opening his door to the elegantly appointed flat and inviting me in he said. 

“Oh you poor boy, you must be so sad.” 

It was obvious from the confused look on my face that he could see I had no idea what he was talking about? 

“I’m so sorry. You have not heard the news. Five of your fellows have been killed this morning in a terrible explosion in East London.”

I had built up a rapport with this particular customer as I dropped off his regular weekly case of wine to his posh flat. He knew I was a serving fireman, working somewhere in central London. He loved to chat. I liked the generous tip he always gave me.  I would normally accept his offer of a cuppa but not today. His devastating news hit me like a hammer blow! The sudden change in my mood reflected the awful sadness I felt.

“Here, please take this and put it in the widows’ collection box,” he said as he thrust two ten pound notes into my hand. 

This was an exceptionally generous gesture back then. One I had not experienced before or since. Twenty pounds was a great deal of money. As much as I earned in the LFB in a week.

The mood was sombre when I went into Lambeth fire station later that day reporting for my Red Watch night duty. The vacant bays, which normally housed the principal officer’s staff cars, indicated the severity of the day’s awful events. Details of the explosion, which had killed five East London firemen, were on the watchroom teleprinter. It announced with the deepest of regret etc… These deaths seemed even more poignant by the fact that they had died at an incident which appeared, at the outset, to be almost trivial.

By the evening a Brigade Headquarters principal officers’ car driver, Johnny Guy, added grim details to the briefest of information given out on the official teleprinter messages. He told of his small part in the extraction of some of the bodies from the oil laden sludge in the partly demolished oil tank farm at Dudgeons Wharf.

Around the station there was much debate and speculation about that day’s incident. The same, no doubt, that was mirrored across all the Brigade with the Red watch asking the many questions raised by this wasteful loss of lives. The ‘who, how, what, where and why’ were speculated about endlessly. Emotions were raw. The anger generating some ill-founded assumptions and accusations.

What later became common knowledge was that the Dudgeons Wharf disaster was caused by a workman hot cutting away an inspection cover securing bolts on an oil tank. An oil tank that had contained flammable substances. Although the affected tank was marked ‘‘light oil and linseed oil’’ the lettering was indistinct. There was certainly no warning of the potential dangers to firemen having to deal with a fire within them. The national papers, the following day, gave fitting tributes and reported, 'They died simply doing the day-to-day job of a London fireman.'

On that fateful morning it was Millwall's pump-escape and pump, Bruswick Road's pump, the foam tender from East Ham together with the fireboat Massey Shaw, from her moorings at Woolwich, that were dispatched to Dudgeons Wharf on the Isle of Dogs at 11.22 a.m. It remains a particular 999 call that still resinates and whose aftermath continues to be remembered in the long history of the London Fire Brigade.

A fire had broken out in one of the huge oil storage tanks at Dudgeons Wharf. The expansive Dudgeons Wharf had lain unused since 1951. It was situated between the riverfront and Manchester Road. The tank, which was empty but not purged, had a capacity of 20,000 gallons. The demolition workers believed thet had actually put the fire out. The land crews, which totallt 12 in total, arrived to make sure it was. Meanwhile the Massey Shaw was still enroute to the scene.

Over 100 tanks od various shapes and sizes had stood on the site. The demolition contract was approved and issued and the contractors started their work in earnest on the 30th June. On the 4th July a serious fire had occurred on the site, a fire that resulted in eight fire engine crews, the the fireboat, attending before it was brought under control and extinguished. The site, the that fateful day, was in varying stages of demolition. However,a miscalculation led to a horrifying, and fatal, explosion. One that sent six men, five members of the London Fire Brigade and a demolition worker, to their deaths.

It was believed that the storage tank in question, a 60 foot high 'No 97' tank, was empty. They were attempting to inspect the tank. Their efforts to remove a securing nut from a base 'manhole' cover having proved fruitless. A demolition worker started to remove/loosen the nut of the inspection cover using heat from an oxy-peopane cutting torch. When the flame was applied to the securing nut the roof of the tank, onto which the firemen and a contractor had climbed, blew off almost instantaneously. The explosion hurling the six men high into the air.

Other fire crews, police officers, and nearby dock workers raced to the scene to search for the men. The injured were ferried, in a fleet of ambulances, to Poplar Hospital. A neighbour, living close by in Manchester Road, reported.

"The explosion rocked our flats. It was just like the blitz all over again."

Local mothers ran to the nearby Cubitt Town Primary school fearful of their childrens safety. Wreakage from the blast landed 150 feet away from the site of the blast. A demolition worker who helped find the bodies was a metal0cutter Roy Measom. His friend, Richard Adams, (known as Reg), was the demolition worker on the top of the tank who was killed. Roy later told news reporters attending the scene;

"When I looked up at the firemen were flying around like paper dolls. The air was full of helmets and debris. There was no need to cut into the tank. The fire was out!" He added; "We should have left it to cool and not taken the inspection plate off."

Immediately following the fatal explosion Station Officer Harold Snelling, who was in charge of Bruswick Road, and fireman Ian Richards, the driver of East Ham's foam tender, rushed to the aid of their fallen colleagues. The force of the explosion was such it had thrown the pair off a pathway, down an embankment, into a deep pool of oil and water. Station officer Snelling was completely submerged. With both men suffering from shock they were assisted back on their feet by the workmen. The contaninated oil was already affecting their eyes. Informed that a fireman had fallen into the exploded tank, using side ladders, they climbed a 35 feet high wall into the tank and commenced their search. After making their way through thick sludge, many feet deep in places, they reached the half submerged body of a fireman which they realised was already beyond help. Disentangling the body from the wreckage they carried their former colleague to a dry spot where he could be lifted from the tank by line.

After being ordered out of the tank the pair became so ill they had to removed to hospital for treatment for shock and oil affecting their eyes. (For their actions Station Officer Snelling and Fireman Richards were both awarded a Chief Officer's COMMENDATION, the Brigade's bravery accolade, for their attempted rescue of a fireman ast the disaster. Subsequently both men were later the British Empire Medal for Gallantry. 

The East End went into mourning after this tragic loss, whilst 100s of firemen from all the UK arrived the following week for the funeral of their firefighting brothers from Millwall, (Sub Officer Michael Gamble and fireman Alfred Smee), Brunswick Road Road, (Firemen John Appleby and Terence Breen), and Clerkenwell fire station, (Fireman Trevor Carvosso-who was standing-by at Millwall).

It was a bright, sunny, day when 100s of members of London's fire brigade and representatives from all around the country gathered, unified in grief, to pay homage and say a personal frewell to five 'good firemen'. They formed a guard of honour four deep as the coffins, all drapped in Union flags, were carried into All Saints Church at Stratford. Crowds lined the Esat London streets to see the coffins arrive where, brass-helmeted, Brigade trumpeters played the Last Post. The London Fire Brigade Missionary, Jack Woodgate, spoke of the six men, including civilian Richard Adams, as 'comrades in death'. After the church service traffic came to a halt, and passengers alighted buses, to pay their respects as the firemens' cortage slowly made its way to the City of London Cemetery. It was the greates loss of life from a single incident since the Second World War three decades before.

Sub Officer Michael Gamble, Firemen John Appleby, Alfred Smee, Trevor Carvosso and Terence Breem were carried on their last journey on five gleaming, scarlet, 100 foot turntable ladders. Each fire engine bearing a flag drapped coffin. A blaze of floral tributes were mounted on both sides of each fire engine. The Requiem Mass for Fireman Breem having already been held and a funeral service held at West Ham Parish Church for the other four before they were reunited and the five comrades started their final journey to the City of London crematorium in Manor Park. Emotions were raw as the Brigade bugler sounded the Last Post from the rear of the Parish church.

As moving as the turn-out of the Brigade's Honour Guard was, an outstanding feature of this sad day was the presence of the ordinary people of Esat London. People who came out in their droves to pay homage ot five firemen they probably would not have recognised had they sped by on their fire engines whilst responding to some call or other. Any feelings that the public took London firemen for granted were totally dispelled that day as 'Eastenders' lined the route; either in small groups of neigbours or as they added their considerable weight to the continious single file of firemen, regardless of rank, standing to attention along the kerbside and under the hot sunshine.

As the pallbearers moved slowly, with solumn gravity, along the crematorium's narrow pathway of the still cemetery towards the grey stoned chaple they processed passed, standing shoulder to shoulder on either side of the pathway, the uniformed Honour Guard. Unmoving we were bound together in common tribute with each thinking our own thoughts. My own position just happened to be adjacent to the Chaple's entrance. With the dignity the occasion demanded I watched as the pallbearers gently lifted and carried the coffins into the Chaple one by one. They were followed by the chief mourners, whose own private grief had been shielded from the publib gaze by the darkened windows of the funeral limousines.

It was after the brief sermon, relayed to the very many unable to get into the crowded chaple, a particularily poignant moment.  The muted sobs of a woman, broken in grief, overshadowed the words of the commital and the music. Then it was over. The mourners eventually, almost reluctantly, left the cemetery, but not before an astonishing act of personal courage was displayed before our eyes. As they were preparing to depart one the widowed wives got her limousine to  stop and she got out. This beautiful and gaceful young woman walked over to some of the Honour Guard to thank them for their attendence and then repeated her personal thanks to those on the other side of the path before she returned to her vehicle and departed. This simple act of gratitude, delivered with such sincerity and displaying such resolve and fortitude, was too much for some of those receiving it. As tears filled my own own eyes many others were overcome with emotion as the broke ranks. The continious line of firemen, their officers and Control Room staff who had seen their fallen comrades arrives but who would never see them depart.

(Footnote: In 2009 the London Fire Brigade's Commissioner, Ron Dobson, formally unveiled a memorial plaque commemorating the site of the Dudgeon's Wharf disaster and recalling the names of the six men, who on the 17th July, 1969, tragically became 'comrades in death'.)