October 21, 1966, started out as any other normal day for me. I was working for the BBC in Cardiff and I was in the studios in Stacey Road j
The tears flowed as the Queen stood alone at the remains of the school in Aberfan where 116 children died - it was the only time I saw her cry in public, writes BRIAN HOEY
By BRIAN HOEY PUBLISHED: 07:16, 21 October 2024 | UPDATED: 09:58, 21 October 2024
October 21, 1966, started out as any other normal day for me. I was working for the BBC in Cardiff and I was in the studios in Stacey Road just after 9 o’clock. I was the only one present – a bit early for our 10 o’clock conference to decide the running of that day’s evening programme.
The telephone rang and it was Eric Warrilow, one of our cameramen. He lived in Merthyr Tydfil and said he had been on his way in when he passed the village of Aberfan - but something wrong, with lots of fire engines and ambulances running around. At that moment our news editor, Alan Protheroe, walked in. He ordered me to drive up there and see what was going on. A short while later, as I walked into Moy Road, the street leading to Pantglas Junior School, I entered a nightmare. It was like a scene from something out of the Second World War, gangs of men and women running around, the men shouting and the women screaming. And you couldn’t blame any of them.
Miners searching for their children in the towering slag heap that had slipped down and engulfed the school
Bewildered miners taking a break from the desperate rescue operation at Pantglas Junior School in Aberfan, where 116 children died
The town came together to remove an estimated half a million tons of coal waste that had hit the school in a 40ft wave following the catastrophic collapse of the 111ft tall tip
A stretcher being lifted out of the window of the junior school in Aberfan
A coal tip that loomed above the school had collapsed, just as prayers were ending. It slid down, engulfing the building and everyone in it. It was later revealed that the tip had been 111 feet high.
As I walked slowly along to the remains of the school, I could see a steady stream of miners coming off the early morning shift at the Aberfan Colliery. They hadn’t changed or even dropped their picks and shovels. There was no talking either. When they reached the school, without any instruction, they all carefully started picking through the wreckage, and every so often a whistle would blow. They would all stop working and there was immediate silence... until the moment a cry was heard again, then everyone moved, again carefully, to that spot and began picking away with their hands.
It was hard to believe that these men, who did such hard manual work every day, could be so gentle. They rescued quite a number of youngsters but, sadly, some of them were past being rescued. The operation was the most impressive exercise in human endeavour and kindness I have ever witnessed. I had been the first reporter to reach Aberfan, but I was soon joined by a swarm of journalists who swamped the village. I returned to the BBC in Cardiff to prepare the evening news on our local programme, called Wales Today – it’s still on every day. Because of the numbers involved, especially children, the news went around the world.
Lord Snowdon, who was dispatched by the Queen to Aberfan to see if there was anything she could do to help
The Queen, who was keen not to get in the way of the rescue operation, visited the area a week later. She was left visibly upset
Prince Philip accompanied the Queen to Aberfan and was shown around the remains of the school
I was sent back up to Aberfan the next day where I met Lord Snowdon, the photographer and filmmaker who was married to Queen Elizabeth's sister Princess Margaret, who had been dispatched by the Queen to see if there was anything she could do and whether he felt she should turn up. Lord Snowdon asked me when I thought it would be appropriate for the Queen to visit - she didn't want to get in anyone's way. She relied on Tony for this sort of advice in Wales. I replied: ’Leave it for a week or two.’
The Queen eventually arrived eight days after the tragedy, on October 29. She had also instructed Snowdon that she did not want to spend too much time there 'shaking hands with the great and good'. Instead she wanted to meet grieving parents and even any children who had survived. I was flattered to be presented by Snowdon to Her Majesty, and she pretended to remember me from the Investiture.
After she had spent a few minutes alone at the remains of the school, it was the only time I saw her cry in public.
Later, Snowdon asked me if I could take him into a house that had lost a child, without a camera present. We went into No.57 Moy Road, home of the Fudge family. They had two daughters who attended the school: only one survived. Mrs Joyce Fudge offered Lord Snowdon a cup of tea – the usual in Wales - and he endeared himself to her when he said, ‘Tell me where the kettle is and I’ll make it.’ That morning we were told that 144 people had been killed by the landslide.
on the bright side I decided to make the best of a deeply awkward situation by giving her a heads-up that there’s a group coming tomorrow? and she seemed to be looking forward to it I think?
In case no one has told you this lately: thank you for being alive at the same time as me. I appreciate you so much. Thank you for surviving your worst days. Your existence is so important. Your feelings are valid. You deserve kindness from yourself and others. Don't ever forget how strong you have been and that you are deserving of love and happiness. Thank you for holding on. Thank you for still being here.
So, the 50th anniversary of Aberfan is this Friday (21st October), and this comment about how careless and unprofessional it was to place the waste there when it was so obviously foreseeable epitomises exactly the tragic legacy of Aberfan.
Things you should know about this disaster:
Those coal tips that you can see in the picture above were dotted all over the landscape in the ‘60s. Mining was Wales’ primary industry, and nearly every South Wales town was essentially built around its colliery. It was commonly said that without the pits, there would be no towns. These mines were regulated by the National Coal Board, a government institution. At the time, devolution had not happened in Wales, and all Welsh issues were governed by one department, the Welsh Office, which was an office of the British government based in Cardiff.
The tips that dominated the landscape near Aberfan were terribly placed. The man who was responsible for choosing their location was not given any training in how to determine where to tip the coal waste, and unfortunately he decided to use an area which was notorious for its underground springs. It flooded all the time, and local children would play in the springs, which were visible on all the Ordinance Survey maps of the time. They weren’t secret.
In 1963, a spoil heap tipped into a valley, causing massive damage but luckily not killing anyone. After this, it was recommended that all mines conducted a review into their spoil heaps, examining every one and reporting back to the central body with comments about its safety. This was not done at Aberfan because the two men responsible for doing so didn’t get along, and didn’t want to work with each other on the report.
In the years before 1966, local councillors and villagers consistently raised concerns about the location of the spoil heap behind the school in Aberfan, given the fact that Tip 7 was on the top of a hill behind the school and was on top of an underground spring. These warnings were repeatedly ignored.
At 9:15am on 21st October 1966, the underground spring underneath Tip 7 caused the coal to become slurry; a thick liquid coal. Unable to bear the weight of the solid coal at the top, the bottom of the spoil heap Tip 7 collapsed, tipping 40,000 cubic metres of slurry and debris onto the village, directly on top of Pantglas Junior School. It also destroyed a water pipe, flooding the town and hindering rescue efforts. 116 children (half of the children at the school) were killed, either drowned or suffocated, as well as 5 teachers. The total death toll of the disaster was 144. Every single street had a bereaved family. Half a generation was lost.
In the wake of the disaster, which to date is the largest disaster involving children in the UK, a charitable fund was raised by the public which amounted to £1.6mil. In today’s money, the amount raised would be £27.8mil. This money was supposed to be used to rebuild the community at Aberfan and to provide care for the injured and traumatised children who had survived. Some parents were asked to prove the extent to which they had suffered after their children’s death in order to have access to compensation from this fund.
A tribunal, set up almost immediately, found that the National Coal Board was responsible for the disaster. The NCB’s defence was that the disaster had been ‘unforeseeable’, despite the knowledge of the springs, the previous tips, and the warnings from locals and miners. The tribunal dismissed this and found that the NCB was at fault because it hadn’t trained its staff in how to tip safely, and had repeatedly ignored the warning signs - of which there were many - of the disaster. 9 individuals were named in the report as being at fault. None was disciplined. All kept their jobs.
Afterwards, the villagers of Aberfan began a campaign to get the remaining spoil heaps removed. The government refused, saying that it would be too expensive. Despite being found liable, the NCB refused to pay for the removal. Eventually, the villagers stormed the Welsh government buildings at Cardiff after they arrived and were refused permission to speak to anyone. Armed with bags of slurry from the remaining tips, they dumped them into the government offices, suggesting that the government might like to live with the slurry instead.
Eventually, the head of the NCB, fed up with the villagers asking him to pay for the disaster for which he had been found wholly responsible, decided that he needed to take money from the Aberfan Disaster fund. He took £150,000 (10% of the entire total of the money raised) and used it to remove the spoil heaps, with the support of the government.
In 2007, the Welsh Assembly repaid £2mil in order to compensate the fund for the amount requisitioned by the NCB. The fund is still in use today, and mostly deals with the psychological trauma of the current residents. The fund was also used to build a community centre near one of the residential streets where the slurry also fell, and a memorial garden on the site of the former school.
This is the graveyard at Aberfan. The arched graves are for the children who died in the disaster.
I went back to Aberfan today and I’d like to add a few things:
Apparently, there was some discussion in the government as to the amount of compensation each bereaved family should receive. Some government officials were worried that, as residents of a low income and working class area, the local people would be unable to deal with receiving large amounts of money and would not spend it on their children, and should therefore receive smaller payments.
Parents were accused by NCB insurers of trying to ‘capitalise’ on their children’s death when they expressed dismay at the offer of £500 compensation (£9,380 in today’s money), which had been raised from an initial offer of £50 (£938 today.)
Half of the survivors of the disaster have experienced PTSD. Survivors of Aberfan have been found to be three times as likely to live with PTSD as other adults in a comparison group who had also experienced life threatening traumatic events.
The Charity Commission refused to use the donated funds to pay grants to children who had survived ‘physically uninjured’, despite the fact that these children, all aged under 11, were severely traumatised. Many couldn’t sleep alone, and were terrified of the dark. This wasn’t entirely the fault of the Commission as regulation of payments made by charity trusts were very inflexible; nevertheless, the surviving children were left to recover within an already fractured community.
Even today, nearly 54 years later and in the midst of a global pandemic, the flowers on all the graves are fresh.
Hi! This is the town next door to me. Somethings to add here.
The compensation wasn’t paid out immediately. It took a long time for the town to receive any compensation for the disaster.
The disaster happened the last day before half term, which started at 12pm that day. Had the accident happened 4 hours later and the school would have been empty.
The accident happened at 9.30am. Had it happened an hour earlier the school would have been empty.
The primary people digging through the rubble of Pantglas were the miners. The poetic way to put it was that those who had dug for coal now dug for their children. However, that is innaccurate, miners from Merthyr, the Rhondda Cynon Taf valleys, Gwent and Caerphilly came to help.
They worked into a night. A whistle was used to quiet the rescuers if they heard a child. It was futile however, the last child discovered alive was at 11am. Two and a half hours after the disaster. An hour before all those children should have been leaving.
The local church was turned into a mortuary.
To give an idea as to how traumatic this incident is for the South Wales Valleys, I saw the photo above and physically flinched. I’m 25, I wasn’t even alive when this happened. Yet my Mam was. She was 10 years old, the same age as some of the kids who died. She is not from Aberfan but a nearby valley and she is still unwilling to talk about the disaster.
People here are still spitting furious about this. This was negligence. This was the cost of people not listening to the would be victims.
And today marks 56 years. Recently I went to the National Museum of Wales at St Fagans to see perhaps the most poignant exhibit that pertains to Aberfan.
This clock was found in the rubble on 21st October 1966 by one of the rescuers, who took it home with him and recently donated it to the museum. It stopped at the very minute of the disaster, 09:13am. The last time the hands of this clock moved, 144 people were still alive.
One of the policemen on day duty in the chapel turned mortuary, before going off duty, would spend time adjusting blankets and ‘tucking in’ the children for the night
A little boy in my youth club (7 years old) has just had a Tourette’s diagnosis. (It’s so obvious that that’s what’s been going on with him now he’s had he diagnosis - kicking myself for not seeing it before!). Anyway, he jerks his head, twitches his fingers and in the last few weeks, I’ve noticed he hits his chest. There are no vocal tics - he has a very loud laugh - but that may also be because he’s a happy little boy!
So here’s the help I need please. How can I best support him? He’s with me for an hour and a half each week and I want to make that time as stress free for him as I can. Our activities include football, pool, table football, arts and crafts, board games and video games. I’ve told him he doesn’t need to try to hide or suppress his tics. We’ve only experienced one child making fun of him, and he was a champ; he very calmly explained why he did those things that she laughed at - she listened, apologised and asked him to play Guess Who!
Thanks for reading this far. I’m grateful for any thoughts on this
Welsh is an official language of Wales. This means, legally, it cannot be treated less favourably than English in any part of daily life. So we have bilingual signs and sometimes the translations are… well just awful.
This is a classic and made the news.
Welsh reads “I am not in the office at the moment. Send any work to be translated.
Welsh reads “Wines and ghosts”
Welsh reads “Warning workers are exploding”
In English these drinks are alcohol free in Welsh the drinks are free “Alcohol for nothing”.
Um- Welsh reads “Free erections” yes really!
This seems a tad harsh “Injure yourself now”
Wording is fine but the English and the Welsh disagree on right/left
The sign says “Parcio I Bobi Anabl” which is “Parking to bake the disabled” which I don’t think Tesco were going for.
In a previous job I had to wear uniform with the nationwide conservation charity’s logo on it. They were looking for a tagline to print on the back and came up with “I’m doing this because I love nature”. We were all very happy with that. When they came to make it bilingual, instead of asking any of us actually living in Wales - they googled. They expected us to wear shirts that loosely translated to “I’m doing this because I have sex with nature”!!! Um, yeah….no I’m not wearing that. Feel like that just adds to the sheep sh*gger myth!
But the thing I will never admit to anyone who's met me is how desperately I want to be loved, I don't think I could say it. How I want someone to hold my wrists and kiss my palms and smile at me, and want me, I want to be wanted and I don't know how long poetry or songs will substitute for being wanted.
Even just as a friend. I’d like to be first pick. I’d like to be the one that gets the first text instead of being the one that sends it. I’d like to be the one that gets asked - you ok? I’d like someone to arrange something for me cos they know I’d enjoy and appreciate it
So you’re 24 today. We met when you were a teenager. I was so worried you would think I was some older weirdo trying to groom you or something sinister. But really, what initially drew me to you was that you were clearly crying out for help - and I wanted to help if I could. And then we just clicked. We communicated only electronically - never face to face, never speaking via the phone, never seeing each other’s faces online. Somehow we managed to become sisters before we heard each other’s voice. You were 1000 miles away and yet you were becoming the person that was closest to me.
We shared secrets, we shared highs, we shared lows. We shared the normal day to day stuff and the big exciting stuff. And then you came to visit. You were so brave! We were both terrified - what if this is horribly awkward or we don’t get on in real life. But it was so chilled and so easy. And familiar. It felt just the same when I came to visit you.
You’ve got your problems. You may never be free of all of them. But you’ve grown and matured and fought as hard as possible to overcome and improve and become you. And it’s the most beautiful thing. I’m so proud of you. So proud. There were times when it felt like you might not make it this far. There were times when I was scared you wouldn’t make it to the next day. But you did. You kept going even when you wanted to stop.
I think you are amazing. I think you know that. I hope in time you’ll learn to see your amazingness. You’ve got so much to give. I hope you’ll make all the changes you want and you’ll become everything you hope. You make things better. But even if nothing changes. Even if you stay exactly the same. You are and will always be - amazing. And my beautiful little sister. Happy birthday. I love you to the moon and back. And I wish you health and happiness and your heart’s desire
Another birthday. Another year gone by. And it’s been a difficult year. But you’re amazing. I’m so proud of you. Always and forever. I’ll always have your back
Love you kiddo. Keep on shining. Keep on being amazing
I’m getting so sick of seeing the Prince Phillip - he already looked dead - mocking him stuff.
This isn’t about politics or pro or anti monarchy. This is about looking at an old man and mocking how he looks to the point of saying - are we sure that’s not a dead body? We’re so used to seeing young bodies or older bodies made to look younger that we don’t realise that this is the reality of ageing: really elderly ageing.
My grandad died at 92 and all those photos of Phillip - well that’s how my grandad looked in his last year. It was hard to see him look so ill and it was heartbreaking to see him suffer at the end, but that last year was so special to spend with him.
And the thought that people might have been looking at him and thinking
- is he dead really?
- why isn’t he dead yet?
- zombie man!!!
- is he a corpse?
And then laughing.... that makes me so sad
Because his mind was sharp and he had amazing stories to tell of his history and he gave brilliant advice and he understood rugby like a professional and he could grow anything in his garden and he was my gran’s carer for the 50 years of the life they had together and he was terrible at remembering punchlines and he was a nice man. And you wouldn’t have got any of that by looking at his appearance.
We’re so quick to judge someone on their appearance. And yes - I get that there’s plenty about Phillip to divide people and it’s public knowledge the issues surrounding him and his views. And I’m not advocating making him a saint and forgetting all of that. But he was also an old man. An old man like so many around the country and around the world: in the last stage of their life - looking like they are.
If were going to be body positive it should also count for the very old. If we’re fortunate, we’ll get there someday and hopefully we’ll treat each other better. His appearance wasn’t lovely to see. He looked old and poorly and yes - close to death - as we have now seen. But it’s a fact of life, as we age, our bodies show the signs of it. Maybe we could show some respect to the old folk around us by leaving the mocking words for a man, who reached almost a century, to one side
