Emergency services searching the rubble at The Mulberry Bush
Background
Bombs devastated two central Birmingham pubs, killing 21 people, and injuring around 200. Police believed that the Provisional IRA had planted the devices in the Mulberry Bush, and nearby Tavern in the Town.
The explosions coincided with the return to Ireland of the body of James McDade, the IRA man, who had been killed in Coventry the previous week, when the bomb he was planting blew up prematurely. The Birmingham 6 went to school with McDade, came to police attention as they went to Ireland for his funeral.
Connection recognised they were arrested Fishguard on return to the UK- tests on hands for explosives were positive. However, it was later realised same results possible from new playing cards or British Rail polish used on carriage tables.
Events of the night: 21st November 1974
The two Birmingham pub bomb blasts were only seconds apart and happened at about 8:30pm when the bars were packed.
Police had attempted to clear both pubs, but the bombs went off only twelve minutes after a man, with an Irish accent, telephoned the Birmingham Post newspaper, with the password and warning.
The first attack was in the Mulberry Bush, which was located on the ground floor, of the 17 storey Rotunda office block. The second device exploded close by in an underground bar, The Tavern in the Town.
The first attack was in the Mulberry Bush, which was located on the ground floor, of the 17 storey Rotunda office block. The second device exploded close by in an underground bar, The Tavern in the Town.
The police, fire brigade and ambulance crews attended the scene and began the arduous task of helping the victims.
Local taxi cab drivers also responded and helped ferry the injured to the General and Accident hospitals. The cabbies continued to assist, by taking home those who had declined hospital treatment. They also went on to take home those who had been treated at the hospitals. All this, without any payment.
Roger Farrell (Medical records Officer 1960-87) Report
On 17th November, when the IRA bombed the pubs, the hospital received 198 casualties.
A silence descended on the hospital as everyone got on with their tasks.
Casualty, Theatre and Plaster Theatre became ordinary Theatres, some casualties went into MIU and the rest into Casualty.
However, around 100 casualties who could walk, were piled into taxis that came off New Street station rank.
Although I had 2 part-time staff on duty, they became overwhelmed.
On seeing what had happened on the TV, I immediately went to hospital. I stayed all night completing casualty lists for the police, who took them on foot as all their radio systems had collapsed.
I was glad when 2 beefy policemen came for the list because a girl, who I would put in her early 20s, came out of treatment swathed in bandages and obviously still in shock, was being harassed by a reporter from The Sun.
Later on, some Policemen went to the bar, which the Evening Steward had kept open. He eventually closed the bar at 4:00am.
The nursing department were inundated with Nurses offering help. There were so many calls that they had to allocate a person to answer them. The morale in the hospital gained new heights because we knew we had a job to do. One surgeon who did not operate stood at the door and answered questions.
Prior to the pub bombings, an Army Captain was attempting to diffuse a bomb in Edgbaston close to a girl’s school. Unfortunately, it was a booby trapped and exploded. He survived 10 days and during that time we had Special Branch Personnel touring the hospital to deal with IRA members. They were all heavily armed and very heavy footed, so much so that complaints were made that they were keeping patients awake through the night.
A Medical Photographers Account of the night: Michael Walker
On the evening of Thursday the 21st of November, I was at home watching television, when a news report was broadcast that two bombs had exploded in the city centre.
One at The Mulberry Bush and the other at The Tavern in the Town. I decided to go into the hospital, and collected fellow photographer Mike Sharland on my way in.
I must admit to feeling both vulnerable and exposed whilst driving very fast down the Aston Expressway, on my way to the hospital. For some strange reason I half expected to be stopped by the police as a possible suspect. The only consolation was that I was driving towards the scene of the bombings and not away from it. I remember switching on my hazard warning lights and being surprised at how good the other road users were in letting me through. There were traffic bottle necks approaching the city, as the police and fire service had to close certain roads to enable the emergency vehicles access to the scene of the bombings.
At the scene of the bombings the casualties were being divided between the nearby General Hospital in Steelhouse Lane, and the Accident Hospital, just over a mile away, in Bath Row.
In the hospital casualty department victims were arriving in taxis, private cars, ambulances, and others were walking in. The sheer number of wounded had overwhelmed the available Facilities, and hospital staff on duty at the time.
It was not only the volume of casualties that stretched the medical staff, it was the complexity of some of the injuries. The vast majority of those on duty that night, had never before experienced victims of bombings with injuries like these.
As more and more off duty staff started arriving to assist, the situation came more under control. Members of the St Johns Ambulance Brigade turned out, and some off duty police officers who were in the city centre, arrived with wounded members of the public, and stayed to help.
When Mike arrived in casualty, he looked just like a Christmas tree, with all the equipment he had managed to carry, and hang around his body.
We proceeded to photograph the casualties in the corridors, the casualty bays, resuscitation rooms as well as those in theatres. Every piece of available space was being used. We allocated each casualty a photographic identification number and added their name and date of birth. If we could not ascertain that information, we made a basic visual description for identification, and later went back to obtain fuller details.
The unconscious victims of the bombings had their clothes searched by a nurse, in an attempt to identify them. At this point Mike and I were still in our civvies, and as such we made sure that a uniformed member of staff was with us, as, we did not want those who were already distressed, to wonder who was taking their photograph.
Casualties had problems in addition to their physical injuries, those of shock, anger and distress, and we did not want to add to this. We were directed to the patients for photography by the medical and nursing staff. It soon became obvious that we were bewildering some of the victims who could not understand why their photograph was being taken.
It was important that we were recognisable, both to the victims, and their family, as being members of the hospital staff when taking photographs, and not to be mistaken for the Press. To make this easier we found some white coats and theatre gowns and wore these when taking the photographs. In those days, of course, we did not have identity badges as today’s staff do.
It was very difficult for the hospital staff splitting up serious casualties and walking wounded when they were with partners, blood relatives or friends. Victims found comfort in staying together.
The situation very slowly changed from organised chaos to disciplined procedures.
At first our work was in casualty. We then covered not only casualty but also the pre-op rooms and theatres. Eventually, we were working in theatres and on specified wards. Once the work in these areas reduced, we went to the hospital mortuary, and then on to the Coroner’s Mortuary.
The medical photographs of the victims were as they first arrived, covered in debris, dirt, soot and blood. Some were severely mutilated and had one or more limbs missing. Then, as they passed through the triage system, we covered initial treatment in casualty and theatre suites, and then finally, some, on the wards.
Those who died in the hospital were taken initially to the hospital mortuary, but some were later transferred to the local Coroner’s Mortuary. We then photographed the deceased in both mortuaries as Full Face with ID, plus half-length and full length. Any specific injuries were then taken as close ups.
Approximately seven hours after first arriving, we went to The Mulberry Bush and the Tavern in the Town, to ascertain if any photographs could be taken at the scene of the bombings.
The police photographic and forensic officers were on scene, and we informed the on-scene Commander what we had been photographing at the hospital. We then returned to the hospital to finish incidental jobs, and then went across to the mortuary for any further cases that had arrived.
By this time most of the hospital canteen staff had arrived, and I was glad to have a cup of tea, well several cups actually, to wash the terrible taste of the dust out of my mouth. This was followed by a fantastic bacon sandwich. Mike and I then walked through casualty, up to the theatres and down to the mortuary to see if there was anything else, we could do. As we were finally stood down, a wave of horror, anger, and bewilderment swept over me, as the full realisation of the enormity of what had taken place, set in.
I vividly remember the traffic, the gridlock of vehicles, and the sound of burglar and fire alarms set off by the bombings at the scene of the two explosions. I can also remember a wonderful sense of camaraderie, and support that was present. Everyone supporting each other, both those they knew, and those who, until, that night had been strangers.
In the days that followed, we were called upon to take photographs of the surviving victims and also at the post mortems, of those who had not survived. In situations such as I experienced that night, when stress levels are heightened, we need to watch out for one another. Emotions run high and we all react differently.
At the Acci
There was no major catastrophe alert for at least 50 minutes after the bombs went off.
One report mentioned that the Accident hospital were told to expect 35 patients and dealt with 84 patients (newspaper clipping, not sure on the reliability of the figures)
Three ‘Lucky Coincidences’
The bombs went off at 8:30pm. Which was close to the hand over times of day/night shifts. Therefore, day teams remained on duty to help.
There were 4 professional/ social gatherings taking place near the hospital, meaning there was an early availability of nurses, blood technicians, radiographers etc. past and present.
Many people were tuning into the radio and TV for the 9 o’clock news. More staff were alerted and many flocked to offer help.
What happened next?
In 1975, six men were found guilty of carrying out the bombings, but the so-called Birmingham Six were released after sixteen years in prison, when their convictions were overturned by the Court of Appeal in May 1991.
The real bombers have never been prosecuted,
In 2003, on the 30th anniversary of the attacks, Gerry Adams, as president of the IRA’s political wing Sinn Fein, said he regretted that the bombings had taken place.
Information from Newspaper Reports
Nearly 200 injured were moved in less than 40 mins
Lessons learnt:
There was some confusion over whether the formalised major accident procedure should be implemented or not – the procedure was never initiated because initial reports said there were 16 or 17 casualties and the definition of a ‘disaster’ requires over 30.
Mr K Whittal SNO at the Acci said the fact that it wasn’t implemented did make that much of a difference sufficient training nursing staff had already been called by telephone or by the news flash on TV.
Response from the public was great, Mr Whittal estimated only about 30% trained staff who offered to help were used.
