A black day in E3.

The Gillender Street fire. 10th July 1991.

For many that day their shift started like any other. It was a hot summer’s day, in fact it was the hottest day of the year so far. But it was day, that for many, would end like no other and for two firefighters from Silvertown fire station it was the last day of their lives.

The fire broke out in a building owner Hay’s Business Services which was rented out by a number of independent companies for storage. The affected part of the warehouse was used for document storage. The alarm was raised at 14:30 p.m. by automatic fire detection equipment. The fire being confined to an unattended compartment at the rear of the building on the second floor mezzanine. It was seven vital minutes before the security company informed the London Fire Brigade of the activated fire alarm.

Unbeknown to initial crews attending the structure of the building allowed the fire to be contained within the compartment where there was a significant build-up of heat and smoke. Such was the nature of the building the responding crews confronted punishing conditions of intense heat, dense smoke making it a particularly difficult fire. Compounding those issues where the problems of accurately identifying just where the fire was located; the narrow and restricted access routes and difficulties with communications.

The change of use over the years had impacted on the legislative framework that covered the seven storey building. It had been subjected to the London Building Acts (Section 20) 1939; the Factories Act (1961) and more recently the Fire Precautions Act 1971, But because of the low number of employees its owners were only required to maintain adequate means of escape and basic fire-fighting equipment. Both requirements were found to have been satisfactory.

The first call to fire was received by the Command and Mobilising Centre at the Brigade’s Lambeth headquarters. The control officers dispatched the first fire engines at 14:31 p.m. That attendance involved: Poplar’s pump ladder (PL), and its turntable ladder (TL); Bow’s pump (P) with a Temporary Station Officer in charge. The A risk attendance should have included three fire engines (excluding the TL) but Poplar’s pump was not available for immediate mobilising. Bow’s PL was dispatched at 14:36 p.m. as the completion of the initial attendance. The first fire engine arrived at the scene at 14:36 p.m.

On his arrival the Sub Officer in charge of Poplar’s PL went to straight to the ground floor security office to view the fire control panel. Whilst there was no visual evidence of any fire within the building four lights were activated indicating fire on the second floor, second floor mezzanine and the third floor. Despite the obvious lack of any fire the driver of the PL set into a street hydrant and connected lines of hose to the dry riser inlet. At 14:37 p.m. Bow’s pump arrived and its Station Officer and the Sub Officer conferred after viewing the fire alarm panel. Escort by a security guard they, and some crew members, were escort to the second floor mezzanine (fire floor) of the five storey building where the guard informed them there was a smell of electrical burning. Only a small hand held (BCF) extinguisher was taken in at this point.

On the fire floor, and having walked about 30 metres of passageways, they discovered wispy smoke percolation from double metal doors in front of them and towards the rear of the premises. The internal lights were on and the smoke was drifting from the believed source of the fire-a rear compartment. The Station Officer instructed a crew to rig in breathing apparatus (BA) [compressed air sets] to investigate and report back. By this time all of the initial attendance was at the scene. The officer in charge sent an informative message to the control room stating the second floor was heavily smoke logged and BA crews were investigating.

The BA team, comprising of four firefighters, two from Bow and two from Poplar, booked in with the Stage One BA control point on the second floor staircase entrance and proceeded to the suspected fire area. They took with them two 10 litre water extinguishers, the BCF extinguisher and a pair of bolt cutters. In the meantime the Temporary Station Officer investigated the second floor to gain an appreciation of the building’s layout. It was now eighteen minutes into the incident.

The BA team probed further into the building, negotiating a series of wired passageways. They discovered the double doors leading to the fire compartment. Its presence indicated by light white smoke coming under the doors. The doors were closed and the crew found them to be warm to the touch. Upon opening the doors a second set of double was discovered and these were extremely hot. With no meaningful water supply the crew withdrew to their initial BA control point whilst a jet was made ready.

Twenty seven minutes into the fire and the dry riser charged, a 45mm hose-line (of a number of lengths) were connected to the riser outlet. It terminated in a hosereel adaptor to which a short length of hosereel tubing was attached. (This was non-standard LFB equipment used by the Bow firefighters.) The original BA crew, now armed with a water supply, returned to the fire compartment.

Gillinder Street. 10th July 1991.

The BA team entered the fire compartment in darkness. Immediately they experienced great difficulty in penetrating the compartment due to the intense heat and thick smoke. Only 2metres in their progress was halted because of those severe conditions. They were unable to see any flame and the use of the hosereel jet directed into the compartment, to locate the fire, proved unsuccessful. Again they withdrew to obtain a larger jet after closing the outer doors. Two BA firefighters, from Poplar, remained behind at the outer doors whilst the two from Bow returned to their entry point. At this point the conditions began to deteriorate further. The smoke was becoming thicker and more acrid. It swiftly enveloped the passageways and main staircase at the front of the building. Such were the conditions that the two from Poplar had to withdraw to the entry staircase. At this point the Temporary Station Officer ordered the BA control point be moved to fresh air by the front entrance to the building.  

As the Poplar crew were exiting they meet an in-going (relief) BA crew of four lead by Bow’s Sub Officer. Again, it was a mixed crew, two from Bow and two from Poplar. Using the hose as a guide-line they returned to fire compartment and picked up where the others had left off. Using the hosereel in a similar fashion they also were unsuccessfully in locating the seat of fire within the compartment. By now the heat so intense the crew were unable to stand upright. It forced them to retreat but especially so when they discovered they lost their water! The inner doors were partially left ajar during their retreat because of the hose line across its path.

At 15:09 p.m. the Temporary Station Officer made pumps six. The message sent thirty-three minutes after the first appliance’s arrival and as other crews from Poplar were investigating alternative possible entry points. If available points that could assist in the extinguishment of the fire and might prove easier to penetrate. In the reinforcing fire engines sent to the scene one was from Silvertown and two from Stratford fire station. Additionally other fire engines were sent to the scene, among them a major control unit and a supporting control unit from the Area Headquarters also at Stratford.   

At 15:19 p.m. a North East Area Assistant Divisional Officer (ADO) and a Divisional Officer (DO) (the Area in which the incident happened) arrived at the scene. Following a hand-over of information the DO took charge of the incident. With little progress being made in gaining access to the fire, access which was reported as increasingly difficult, the DO had sent a second priority message. He made pumps ten.

With a complicated floor layout a decision was made to use the BRigade’s BA guidelines to help find a path to the fire area. (Whilst BA guidelines were occasionally used at station and Area operational training exercises and drills their use at operational incidents was not a frequent occurrence.) With the ADO delegated the task of organising BA crews, on the understanding that each crew entering the building were led by an officer, he selected the Station Officer from Stratford to lead a four man BA team. The team comprised of a Stratford firefighter (who was a probationer and only had three weeks operational experience!) and two firefighters from Silvertown; firefighters’ Terence James Hunt (34 years old with twelve years operational service) and David John Stokoe (25 years old with two years operational service).

Despite the inexperience of the probationer the Station Officer briefed his crew on the task ahead. The team were given the call-sign ‘Silvertown One’. The senior accident investigators later discovered that two of the BA control board clocks were ten minutes slow of the actual British Summer time. The board containing the BA tallies of Ff hunt and Stokoe was ten minutes slower that actual time. (Additionally the communications equipment worn by Ff Stokoe was incorrectly attached to his set.)

The BA crew proceeded into the incident in the following order: The Station Officer, the probationer, Ff Stokoe and Ff Hunt. The station Officer wore the main guide line carrier (designated ‘A’), with Fm Hunt carring the spare bag and tied off the line at appropriate places. Each member of the crew were attached to each other by the short section of their personal guide lines. With the main guide line secured to the entry point it played out behind as they entered the second floor mezzanine. It was about one third of the way in that the ‘Silvertown One’crew were passed by the relief crew on their way out. The Sub Officer informed the Station Officer he had been unable to locate the fire and the conditions were extremely hot.

At around 15:49 p.m. an ADO was designated by the Area Control Unit the task of setting up BA Main Control procedure due to the nature of the BA commitment. At 15:51 p.m. the DO sent an updated informative message stating that crews were still searching for the fire.

At 16:00 p.m. Assistant Chief Officer (ACO) Kennedy arrived and took command of the incident. Given the scale of the incident he made pumps 15 five minutes later.

Inside the BA crew monitored their pressure gauge readings whilst laying out the guideline. However, the first guideline ran out before reaching the fire compartment and the second line was joined to the first. This was performed by the two Silvertown firefighters but not in the approved fashion. Now laying the extended guideline the conditions deteriorated the closer they got to the fire compartment. Such were the conditions that crew got down on their hands and knees and crawled forward. The Station Officer was informed by Ff Stokoe that the BA ‘interface’ (radio) communications set was transmitting intermittently. The Station Officer opted to use the personal fireground radio he was carrying and switching it to Channel C. He confirmed, after a short period, that his message was being received. He had assumed that radio contact was with the BA entry control point and told he team he intended to continue forward.  The team had now reached the end of a 70mm hose line they were following. (The Station Officer later stated it was then that Fm Hunt suggested that they; “Let’s make tracks”.)

The team had reached the end of a passageway. On the floor they located one charged 45mm hose-line and an un-charged 70 mm hose-line. The 45mm hose line going into the fire compartment, where the left hand door was opened. The Station Officer reported the conditions there were untenable and that they were securing the guideline and withdrawing.

There was some agitation from Ff Hunt, who made it clear he wanted out as soon as possible. To restore some calm the Station Officer ordered a pressure gauge check. The Station Officer later stated that the two Silvertown firefighters’ had 90 bar and 95 bar respectively. But given the very limited visibility he was not sure which had the lower reading? He and the probationer both had 100 bar remaining in their sets. He asked for their individual entry readings and was satisfied that as they had only used half the available air the exit from the fire floor would be much swifter than their progress to date. (The probationers recall was slightly different and his Station Officer had 120 bar and he had 150 bar.)

It was at this point the Station chose to deliver some ‘on the job’ training for the probationer and both briefly entered the fire compartment, leaving the Silvertown firefighters outside. Within the fire compartment the conditions were untenable and they both soon withdrew.

Outside, and at about 16:00 p.m., the DO gave instructions for a branch line to be laid from the end of the guide line and a search conducted to the right of it for fire spread. A three man BA team from Silvertown, led by a Sub Officer, was given this task. They followed the original guideline in, connected to each other by their personal guide lines. At the point they believed to be the end of the main guide line they connected their branch line. However, they had only reached the point where the two main guides had been joined together. Having connected their branch line, with its branch line tally secured to it, the team soon became confused about their direction of travel in the poor visibility. They began to lay out their branch line in the direction of travel they had just entered by.

The ‘Silvertown One’ BA team, on exiting, went in reverse order with Ff Hunt now in the lead. The team moved off at a steady pace. After a short period they stopped and there was some confusion as the line they were following appeared to heading in the wrong direction! The confusion occurred at the point where the branch line had been secured to the extended main guide line. (The differing short tabs on a guideline giving users an indication of the direction of travel.) The Station Officer checked the guideline Ff Hunt had reached and came to the conclusion it was taking then away from the exit. He radioed the BA entry control stating:

“We are on a main BA guideline, but are lost!”

It appeared to the Station Officer that the two Silvertown firefighters were now very agitated. Having retraced their steps a short way the Station Officer discovered the source of the confusion. There was a tangle of guidelines. (Within the subsequent Investigation report there was no indication that the BA control informed the original crew of the intention to attach a branch line to the main guideline.)

The Station Officer had a choice of two lines to follow and with no clear indication which was the branch line. He later stated he lost his sense of direction and orientation. He decided to locate a set of tabs of the line he was holding. It was the probationer who informed his Station Officer that the Silvertown pair intended to go back another way as they felt they were all heading in the wrong direction. With the aid of a torch a pair of tabs were located at the same time as the Station Officer’s low cylinder warning whistle stated to sound. This only further agitated the Silvertown pair. The result being the Silvertown pair said they were heading in the other direction and proceeded to do just that, snapping the personal guide line connecting the two to the probationer, with the force of their strides in the opposite direction. The Station Officer felt he had the main guide line, the line leading them to the exit. He shouted to the Silvertown pair;

“Come back, this is the right way”. They would not return.

Getting low on air the Station Officer made the decision to stick with the line he was holding and hoped the other two would turn around and follow them. As this pair continued towards the exit they heard other low cylinder warning whistles activate and, what they believed was, a distress warning signal starting to sound. The Station Officer continued to lead the probationer forward and, despite the fact his air was getting critically low, he did not sound his own distress signal unit in case it added confusion to the rescue of another who’s distress warning was already sounding.

They made it back to the staircase landing, which is where they came across the BA team who had been laying out the branch guide line but who had, mistakenly, walked back the way they entered the fire floor. They were unaware of their error and believed that they had come across a second staircase. A radio message, from the BA control point, confirmed there was only the one staircase. There was a short, confused, exchange between the Station Officer and the branch line crew. The Station Officer’s whistle had stopped and his cylinder was running on empty. (That exchange on the staircase remains confused as officers provided different accounts of what actually transpired.)

The BA Control Officer, outside the warehouse, was aware the Station Officer’s BA team was reaching their low pressure warning whistle times. On receipt of the emergency message committed a four man BA rescue team, under the command of a Leading firefighter. The team, from Leytonstone, had been standing-by at Stratford fire station when they were ordered onto the ten pump fire at Gillender Street. One of those in Leytonstone’s crew was firefighter Richard Gorbell. He recalls:

“We were tasked with trying to find the missing crew. Climbing the five flights of stairs the smoke was the thickest black smoke I had seen in years. You could only just see your pressure gauge. At the top I stumble over the Station Officer. He is in a bad way. I check his gauge and nothing! Not a drop of air in his set. With that the Station Officer collapses onto me. I remember running down the five flights with the Station Officer over my shoulder. I was unaware that I was also towing the probationer behind me who was still connected to his Station Officer by the personal guide line. We made it out and willing hands took the Station Officer where he was given oxygen before being rushed, by ambulance, to hospital.”

At about 16:44 p.m. a four man BA team, led by a firefighter not an officer, were committed to the incident as an additional rescue crew. The team, from Stratford, took with them both a thermal image camera and the BA interface communications equipment. However, they were not told to take, or took, an EASE (emergency air supply equipment) set.

At 16:47 p.m. ACO Kennedy made pumps twenty. Shortly afterwards he subsequently request an additional Emergency Rescue Tender (ERT) with EASE and immediately after that five additional pumps for BA.

Stratford’s team, after a brief search of the stairway above the second floor mezzanine, returned to the fire floor and picked up the main guideline. In the passageway they passed a BA crew from Poplar, unware that firefighters were missing, and who had charged to ventilate by breaking external windows. They were told to keep quiet and the Stratford crew heard the distance sound of an automatic distress signal unit. They proceeded towards the sound. The situation was made more difficult by the noise coming from a fire alarm sounder. One of the crew muffled to noise and was able to detect the location of the distress signals. Proceeding towards the sound they located the two unconscious firefighters immediately.

The pair were on the floor in a semi-reclined position. Both automatic distress units were operating and their hand-lamps were still on. One firefighter had no facemask on and the other had a hand on his partner. Their low cylinder whistles were not sounding and neither registered a pulse to their rescuers. Working in pairs the rescuers attempted to drag and carry the casualties towards the way out. It was an extremely difficult task and the exertion reduced their already limited air time. They could not complete the recovery of the lost firefighters and get themselves to the exit safely. They had to withdraw. On their way out the made contact with the incoming Leytonstone crew.

As Leytonstone’s crew knew where to head the North East Deputy Assistant Chief Officer committed them once again. Connected to each other, and following the main guide line, they follow it to the fire floor. It was a highly charged, confusing and stressful search. The radio communications was chaotic, many messages and some shouting. They came across the tangle of guidelines but managed to follow the main guide line following the sound of an automatic distress signal unit. They came across a collapsed firefighter. His pressure read empty. With no discernible pulse, and unable to free him from his set, his straps are cut by one of the rescue firefighters using a knife. The team rush him towards the exit and fresh air.

With BA entry control continually updated on progress by radio firefighters from Leytonstone and Bethnal Green they carried firefighter Hunt outside and where crews of the London Ambulance immediately started resuscitation. A crew from Lee Green, assisted by BA firefighters from Stoke Newington, having located the second firefighter brought him down the staircase where London Ambulance crews’ were waiting to commence emergency rescusitation.

Firefighter Hunt was removed to the London Hospital at 17:39 p.m. Firefighter Stokoe was taken to the same hospital at 18:02 p.m. Both men were pronounced dead on arrival. At 18:31 p.m. two senior officers were sent to the London and Newham hospitals (The Station Officer having been removed to the Newham hospital.) The officer at the London Hospital identifing the two deceased firefighters to the doctor present.

The fire was brought under control at 19:51 p.m. and the ‘Stop’ message sent at 20:51 p.m. Although the Chief Officer attended the incident ACO Kennedy remained in command.

As a result of the fatalities an immediate major accident investigation, by a principal officer assisted by another senior officer, started. It was one of a series of investigations into the tragic events of that summer afternoon. The Fire Brigade Union conducted its own investigation led by the then London Chairman (Jim Fitzpatrick) and the North East Area Secretary (Matt Wrack).

A combined Metropolitan Police fire investigation, in liaison with the London Fire Brigade, could not rule out the source of ignition as careless discarded smoking materials but their investigation revealed that the most probable cause of the fire was a deliberate act.

The most damming investigation findings came from the Health and Safety Executive (HSE) inquiries. The Executive served two improvement notices on London’s fire authority, the London Fire and Civil Defence Authority, alleging that firefighters in the capital had been inadequately trained and safety poorly monitored.

It was a highly unusual action for the HSE-a Government funded safety enforcement agency- to take action against a fire brigade. Their report outlined the several errors which lead to the firefighters deaths. They ordered a radical overhaul of training in the Brigade after the two died in an operation which went disastrously wrong. In its reply the Fire Authority stated; “There was no criticism of our recruit training but, in the view of the HSE, continuation or refresher training was in some instances not up to standard.

(The Chief Officer-Gerry Clarkson-had introduced a comprehensive two week firefighter refresher programme for qualified firefighters and Leading firefighters in the late 1980s. It incorporated both the former BA and First Aid two yearly refresher training, training that had been delivered on an ad-hoc basis in the former Divisional structure around the Brigade. The refresher training was cancelled without warning and no explanation, despite its success, after about 18 months into the programme.)

The Inquest into the Hays Business Services fire at Gillender Street concluded that the fire was started by arsonists and the Inquest jury subsequently returned verdicts of unlawful killing of the two London firefighters. No one has ever been brought to justice for the fire or the deaths of firefighters Hunt and Stokoe.

The Colonial Wharf fire. Wapping.

London’s river frontage has been the setting of many major blazes over the years. In fact it was a Southwark riverside warehouse fire in 1861, along Tooley Street, which would give birth of London’s first municipal fire brigade a few years later. That fire, like so many, took the lives of two brave souls trying to the fight the flames. The Blitz, during the Second World War, saw complete riparian streets ablaze as a result of enemy bombing. But in the main, and certainly in peacetime, London’s firefighters normally restricted such fires to the building of origin. Sometimes fate worked against their gallant struggles, despite their best efforts and unwavering exertions, to contain the blaze. One such blaze occurred on 25th September 1935. By any standard it was a spectacular fire. It was one that caught the public’s imagination and one that is worthy of recalling.

The fire at Colonial Wharf, Wapping on 25 September 1935. In the foreground is a French ship, the Gatinais of Rouen, and on the dock crane roof can be seen firemen in action with others directing their jets from the River Thames. Date: 1935

On the afternoon of the 25th the fire-float Beta III, one the London Fire Brigade’s four fire-floats, was moored at her station at Cherry Garden Pier in Rotherhithe. The pier was located in the once thriving ‘Port of London’. It remains there today, downstream of Tower Bridge on the Thames’ Bermondsey south bank. On the opposite northern riverbank once lay a range of imposing modernised wharves and warehouses included the Colonial Wharf. At the time of the fire this nine-storey warehouse was full of crude rubber and other highly combustible products. The warehouse would burn for four days. During that time a number of violent explosions occurred. Sixty pumps, twenty special appliances and three fire-floats (later renamed fireboats) of the London County Council’s London Fire Brigade and some 600 of its firefighters fought this mammoth blaze.

The Massey Shaw fire-float which became operational in July 1935. The Colonial Wharf fire was her first major test.

The fire had been discovered by an employee working on the fifth floor of the warehouse. The first alarm call was given by exchange telephone direct to the Whitechapel Fire Station at 3.28pm. A second call was given by a passer-by on the south of the river at 3.35pm to the firemen crewing the Beta III at the Cherry Garden Floating ‘D’ Station. As fire engines from Whitechapel, Shadwell headed to the scene the Beta III cast off and crossed the Thames. Five minutes later the officer in change sent a ‘home call’ message. Other local stations were swiftly dispatched to the rapidly developing Wapping High Street blaze.

Those first fire crews found the nine storey warehouse alight on the sixth floor, although no actual fire was visible from Wapping High Street where they had parked their fire engines. Owing to the height of the building (some one hundred feet tall), the narrow internal staircases and the meandering means of approach the crews’ experienced great difficulty in finding the seat of the fire quickly, or even an entrance door to the floor involved. The fire was eventually reached from the fifth floor of an adjoining warehouse on the west side. It was a tortious route via an iron doorway, just inside of which was a small cat-ladder leading up through a trapdoor (about 18” by 2’) to the floor where the fire was showing.

At 3.48, twenty minutes after the first call was made, a ‘district call’ was made. This brought in all the fire engines of the district. Fire engine’s from the now forgotten City of London’s fire stations of Red Cross Street, Whitefriars, Bishop’s Gate and Cannon Street rushed towards the great pall of thick black smoke rising from the eastern side of Tower Bridge. The new Massey Shaw fire-float was summoned as were additional turntable ladders. The Chief Officer, Major Morris MC. getting intelligence about the fire left his Southwark Headquarters in his staff car and headed the short distance towards the incident.

Major Cyril Clarke Borille Morris. MC. Chief Officer of the LFB from 1933 to 1938. Date: 1930s

The fifth floor had been packed, almost to the ceiling, with two-hundredweight (one hundred kilogramme) bales of crude rubber and which were now well alight. The whole floor was soon engulfed in fire. The firemen had to abandon their positions owing to the extreme heat and dense, choking, black smoke. Even more turntable ladders were ordered and the fire was attacked by jets from the top of five turntable ladders positioned in Wapping High Street. At 4.41 Major Morris sent a ‘Brigade call’ message. Sixty pumps would now attended the fire. On the land side ‘radial’ branches, that could throw a vast column of water into the building, were used in Wapping High Street. On the riverside firemen climbed onto a crane fixed to the warehouse and used its vantage point to direct their jets at the blaze. Their position was precarious to say the least. On the river firemen climbed on to barges and directed large jets of water at this enormous building fire.

Three of the brigade’s four fire floats were brought into action. The twin funnelled Beta had been the first to arrive. With its large capacity firefighting monitor, fitted near her prow, she was projecting a powerful column of water of many hundreds of gallons per minute to the height of the Colonial Wharf.The Massey Shaw, which was moored at Blackfriars, had passed under Southwark, London and Tower Bridge before arriving at the burning wharf. Now the combined efforts of the two fire-floats were throwing five thousand gallons per minute of Thames river water into the inferno. The fire-float Delta, that had steamed down from her station at Battersea Bridge was feeding jets through lines of hose carried onto the shore and barges.

The Massey Shaw fire-float, one of three attanding the blaze, directing it monitor at the fire and delivering 3,000 gpm (13,500 litres)

Although street hydrants were used to some extent the brigade pumps mainly obtained their water from the nearby Hermitage Basin and Wapping Basin, and the Port of London Authority officials took special steps to ensure the locks were kept filled with water.

The fire burned with incredible ferocity. It spread rapidly to the adjoining warehouse on the eastern side, a warehouse also stocked with crude rubber. Spreading upwards to the top floor the fire burned through the roof, on which was mounted a large crane. As the roof fell in the crane, from which fireman earlier had been tackling the fire, came crashing down. It fell onto the barges moored in the river below. Large parts of the walls of both warehouses collapsed causing three of the barges to sink, although one was subsequently re-floated.

Firemen used any vantage point to get an advantage on the blaze. Here they climb up a dock side crane.

The fire was surrounded by 9.45pm that day. However, it still burned fiercely throughout the night. It remained a serious threat to the surrounding warehouses on both sides. Early the next morning the front wall of the building partially collapsed. It fell into Wapping High Street. Shortly after 7.00am there was a violent explosion in Colonial Wharf which brought down its side wall and severely damaged the roof of the adjoining warehouse on the down-river side. It was only a barrage of jets that prevented the fire from securing a hold on that warehouse too. The fire continued to burn all day. As it spread downwards into the building it again threatened to involve the adjoining warehouse. But it was the monitor of the ‘Massey Shaw’, which was capable of throwing vast quantities of water, onto that side of the fire that prevented fire spread. Further violent explosions occurred later that day. Explosions so forceful that they blew two hundredweight bales of rubber out into the surrounding streets.

A new difficulty was now also handicapping the brigade. In Wapping High Street the drains could not cope with the amount of water and molten rubber which had spread over the street. By the Thursday night sewer-men, trying to keep the drains clear, were up to their knees in a viscous, oily flood. Several hundred lengths of the Brigade’s hose were submerged in this sticky, treacly, liquid.

Part of the wharf has collapsed overnight

By early Friday morning the body of flame had finally diminished. By 8.26am the fire was in hand. Nevertheless, the rubber continued to burn, and one explosion blew a heavy iron door out into Wapping High Street and flames several feet long shot out across the road. The fire was still not completely under control until Sunday, 29th September. The Brigade finally left their duty at 6.00pm on Tuesday, 1st October.

Fireman with his hands covered tar from the fire.
Welcome relief with a cuppa fire the Brigade’s canteen van.

‘The Times’newspaper covered the fire thus:

“Colonial Wharf at Wapping, Sept. 26.

Twenty-four hours after the outbreak of fire at the Colonial Wharf, Wapping, firemen are still at work, seeking to subdue the flames which, though under control, continue to burn fiercely through the lower floors, with occasional explosions. The walls are gradually collapsing, and the stream is flowing with liquid rubber from the burnt stores. The river floats continue their attack on the burning building, and firemen are perched precariously on cranes on adjacent wharfs. Fire engines from all parts of London and the suburbs were arriving during the day, bringing men to relieve those who had been on continuous duty for long hours, and a few of whom had suffered minor injuries. It is expected that it will be days before the fire is extinguished. It spread to an adjoining warehouse today, but was controlled. The district is covered with soot, and the schools and tenements are uninhabitable.”

The Massey Shaw fire-float tackles theColonial Wharf, Wapping High Street, on the 27 September 1935. The nine-storey warehouse was full of crude rubber and burned for four days, during which time a number of explosions took place. Sixty pumps, 20 special appliances and three fireboats, manned in all by 600 firemen and fire officers fought the huge blaze: which they successfully prevented the fire from spreading to the surrounding warehouses. Date: 1935

The Eldoraro’s ice cream factory fire-Stamford Street-Waterloo: 24th April 1968.

The Stamford Street blaze in April 1968.

I mentioned recently how most, if not all, London firemen can always recall their ‘FIRST’. Most notably it is their first ‘fatal’, an event that’s embedded in their psyche. Others have other notable first’s too, like slipping and pitching the 50 foot wheeled escape ladder for a rescue or, for a very few, using a hook ladder in anger. I know I do, although it was a few years before the hook ladder incident came along. This happens to be another of those firsts, my first proper ‘Proto’ breathing apparatus fire.

Did I make a difference to the efforts of others that day? I doubt it very much. However, did this fire make an impact on me? Yes, all the difference in the world. Until that day I had used the title London fireman. After Stamford Street I started to believe I might actually become one.

I had first arrived at Lambeth fire station in January 1967 aged 18 and 4 days old. Posted to the Red Watch, and having got my probation under my belt, I was sent on my Proto breathing apparatus exactly twelve months later. I passed out BA qualified in February 1968.

The ‘Proto’ one hour oxygen breathing apparatus set, the dominant set used across the London Fire Brigade.

I loved my job as a London fireman but kicking my ‘single’ heels between shifts was a bit tedious so I found myself a regular part-time delivery job with a wine company in the shadow of Buckingham House, Westminster. I delivered wine around Victoria, Pimlico and Chelsea between my two night duties and on my first leave day. That particular Wednesday I had parked on Millbank, by the Thames, for a lunchtime sandwich. I watched as three of Lambeth’s five fire engines, the pump-escape, pump and turntable ladder turned right out of the station, on the other side of the river, and headed eastward on a shout. Continuing passed Lambeth Brigade they all headed down Lambeth Palace Road in the direction of the GLC’s County Hall. Looking down river I could see a column of thick smoke rising skyward behind the bend in the river; the tell-tale signs of a ‘job’. As I ate my sandwich the column grew higher and even thicker.

Frustrated at not knowing what was happening, or where, I returned to my wine deliveries. By the early afternoon the distinctive taint of smoke, which only comes from a serious fire, wafted in the air.  Lambeth must have a working job on its hands so I rushed to finish my deliveries. Leaving the shop early and trotted back from Victoria Street to Lambeth fire station eager to learn more. I reached the station about 4.30 p.m. and saw a stand-by pump at the station. So, whatever had happened was still happening.

The Greater London crest-the cap and helmet badge of the London Fire Brigade.

Changed into my overalls I went down to the watchroom to read the teleprinter messages. Multiple calls had been received at 1.02 p.m. to the Eldorado’s (Lyon’s Maid) ice cream factory in Stamford Street, SE1. (It was later established that most of the factory employees were in the first floor canteen when the fire was first discovered.) An employee, walking from the canteen across the main storage area towards the staircase, saw fire among a stack of corrugated cardboard cartons. Raising the alarm, the canteen was quickly evacuated and a few of the employees attempted to tackle the fire with extinguishers. However, the speed and intensity at which the fire was developing trapped two of the men in the canteen. With dense smoke rapidly filling the first floor it prevented them from reaching the staircase, their regular escape route. The pair ran to the outside windows, now their only possible escape, or so they had hoped.

The station teleprinter installed in London fire stations. It was the means by which, nearly all, orderings were received at a fire station.

Eldorado’s in Stamford Street was on B23’s Southwark’s ground. Their pair, plus Lambeth’s three machines, supported by Cannon Street, made up the augmented attendance. When Southwark arrived smoke was already pouring from the windows along the whole of the first floor and a man was seen shouting for help. The first message back from Station Officer Arthur Money was ‘Make pumps four persons reported’.

The pump-escape of Southwark fire station (B23) one of the first fire engines on the scene.

As Southwark’s crews attempted to rescue the man, via an extension ladder, they found the window opening too small for the trapped man to climb through. The smoke in the building was already dense and choking and the man was in fear of his life, so the crews set to work with hand tools to cut their way in order to save him. Lambeth’s turntable ladder crew, with fireman Les Davidson driving, saw another man shouting for help at a first floor window. For quickly, and decisively, siting the mechanical ladder and rescuing the man Les and the officer in charge of the TL (Ken Bland) were later formally congratulated for their actions. It was not the first time a 100 foot turntable ladder had been used to rescue a person from the first floor, but it was unusual.

Southwark’s govnor, Arthur Money, was then the brigade’s longest serving Station Officer. A man with a wealth of operational experience he was also highly respected. He was no stranger to major fires. On arrival he estimated he had a building of one, two and seven floors about one hundred and fifty feet by one hundred and twenty feet. The whole of the first floor smoked-logged and rescues were being carried out, simultaneously, on the front and side of the building. He made pumps eight, BA required, and gave instructions for BA crews to enter the first and second floors to carry out a search, as it seemed likely that other employees might well be trapped in the building. Lambeth and Clerkenwell’s emergency tenders were now headed to the scene with their specialist BA crews.

A few minutes later the first senior fire officer arrived from Clapham. He ordered three more BA pumps to the incident. (That is what they did back then.) With the arrival of ever more BA pumps, ladders were pitched to the upper windows on the Stamford Street frontage and BA crews entered the building with hose lines. These crews had great difficulty in penetrating the fire area. The build-up of heat was severe because of;

(i) of the combustible nature of the storage;

(ii) the area involved and low ceilings;

(iii) and the lack of direct ventilation.

Even those firemen working on the external iron staircase were subjected to extremely punishing conditions. The smoke was hot, dense, black and extremely difficult to work in. It soon became obvious that this was going to be a prolonged and difficult BA job. One that necessitated continious relays of Proto BA crews. Crews who would have to gradually force their jets, foot by foot, into the building until the seat of the fire was located.

Among the first reinforcing engines to arrive was Barbican’s pump. In its crew was fireman Christopher Thompson, who was riding BA that day. He had originally been posted to the Redcross Street station but had been transferred to the new Barbican station after the Redcross Street and Whitefriars stations’ were closed down. Until that day fireman Thomson’s major claim to fame was being the first dutyman at his new station and starting the station’s watchroom log book.

Within minutes of their arrival Barbican’s three-man BA crew, led by their Station Officer, were committed to the burning factory and, along with all the other crews inside, struggled to come to terms with the excessive leves of heat and the arduous workload of hauling in heavy charged lengths of hose. They would recharge their set’s twice at this incident and it was whilst taking a breather, and sitting on the kerbside by the Brigade’s control unit, that Thompson was joined by a senior officer. Norman Rose was a B Division Divisional Officer. He had a reputation as a tough, no-nonsense, fire officer who did not take prisoners! Thompson was surprised how affable his unexpected companion seemed to be, but he was grateful of a breather too.

Rose’s breather was short lived as he was tasked by an even more senior officer to brief the press and television crew eager for a news item to place in the evening editions and possibly on the BBC news broadcast. Bemused, fireman Thompson watched as Norman Rose reached down into the gutter and filling both hands with dirt and street grime before slowly wiping it down his face. He looked like a coal-miner. Rising, he winked at the young fireman before saying, “It’s what they expect me to look like.”

When Mr Lloyd, the Southern Command Assistant Chief Officer, took charge more BA pumps were requested. More followed as Mr Mummery, the Deputy Chief Officer, finally took command. By 2.30 p.m. he ordered the BA incident box, together with one hundred extra oxygen cylinders. Even the BA Instructors, from the nearby Southwark Training School, turned out to assist with the servicing of the firemens Proto sets.

Firemen recharging their breathing apparatus sets at Lyons Maid Ltd in Stamford Street, Southwark.
(Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

For the next few hours relays of BA men slowly, and painfully, worked their way further into the building, Even when hugging the floor some men’s ears were blistered as the effects of the excessive heat took its toll. Many, upon exiting, were told to recharge their sets and return to the fray. More appliances were summoned to relieve the original exhausted crews. As more arrived it enabled the crews, who had been hard at work, a brief respite and time to recharge their sets.

Lambeth’s PE and pump returned to the station at the change of watch (6.00 p.m.) with exhausted crews. Lambeth’s Brigade Control (M2FH) ordered our pump to exchange crews and (with a Red Watch crew) return to the scene. ‘Under manning'( fire engine crews riding at minimum levels) was still the norm in ‘68’ and I was one of three on our pump. With our BA donned we carried on where others had left off. Their herculean efforts had moved the jets forward and we now used them. Committed twice that evening I experienced, at first hand, the extreme heat and draining conditions that the other crews had endured all afternoon. It was a lot bloody different from my recent BA course at Croydon’s BA Chamber or the regular Divisional BA drills at Southwark’s ‘rat-run’. Neither, was it anything like just putting a BA set on for 10 or 15 minutes at a normal house or maisonette fire! It was the difference between a sprint an a marathon.

When Mr Mummery (the Deputy Chief) sent the ‘stop’ message later that evening fifty pumping appliances, four emergency tenders, two turntable ladders, plus Lambeth’s canteen van had attended the fire in anger before the first ‘normal’ relief pumps were requested.

We worked on into the late evening and, when eventually relieved, returned the following morning on the 6 a.m. We were back to on our second night duty. It was whilst damping down we saw the full intensity of the fire. Large swathes of concrete had spalled off beams, exposing the steel reinforcements. Huge sections of the lower surface of the floor had spalled off completely. Plus hundreds of thousands of lolly sticks were destroyed, the major fuel of this extraordinary blaze and my first proper BA job. It would not be the last.

Note: Stamford Street is a street on the boundry between Lambeth and Southwark, just south of the River Thames. It runs between Waterloo Road to the west and Blackfriars Road to the east.

DCP.

A short history of London’s fireboats

‘A fireboat was designed to be a floating pump that would never run out of water.’

London’s river has always carried people, both for business and for pleasure. Whilst the nature of its riverside has change beyond recognition since the latter part of the twentieth and now into the twenty first century, its popularity as an attraction has not diminished.

A Metropolitan Fire Brigade fire float and tug heading to a riverside blaze. The fire float was a steam fire engine mounted in a barge that could either supply water to the land via hoses or direct water onto a blaze from jets on the barge. The fire tug transported the fire float to the scene of the fire. Circa 1890s

The earliest fire-floats.

The name fireboat is a relatively new term. For most of their history they were called ‘fire-floats’. The Insurance Companies, that provided London’s fire brigades prior to 1833, had introduced the first fire-floats. In truth they were manual fire engines carried on large rowing boats. London saw the arrival of the first fire-float as early as 1765. It was built for the Sun Fire Insurance Company. It was followed by other fire-floats as more insurance companies added a floating engine to their firefighting capabilities.

Upper image; the manual fire pump in a rowing boat. Lower; Illustrated London News item

Victorian technical developments.

With the creation of the London Fire Engine Establishment in 1833, under Superintendent James Braidwood, the fire-floats were transferred to the new fire brigade. The largest two floating engines required between 60 and 80 men to operate their manual pumps. By 1852 the larger of the two was adapted to work by steam, an experiment that proved successful at the time, with a floating steam driven fire engine put into service at a cost of £3,000.

The Beaver fire tug and fire-float barge with Metropolitan Fire Brigade crew.

The purpose of the fire-floats was a simple one. It was able to direct jets of water at a riverside blaze where land firemen were unable to do so. In addition, they also supplemented water supplies to firemen working from either moored craft or on the river foreshore. London’s two oar-propelled craft were located by South Bridge (the larger Upper float) and the Lower float was berthed off King’s Stairs, Rotherhithe, both on the south side of the river.

Braidwood died at the Tooley Street fire in 1861, a fire so severe it scorched the fire-float moored mid-stream fighting the blaze. However, on the river little changed as the steam self-propelled fire-floats were not deemed successful. From 1890 until 1900 the MFB fire-floats consisted of steam fire engines (less wheels) fitted into rafts and towed by fire-tugs.

The previously used rafts, towed by tugs, were replaced by London’s first self propelled fire-floats. These steam driven, shallow draught, craft were based on the Royal Navy gunboats and proved highly effective compared to what they replaced. 1904.

It was the new Chief Officer (another Captain-but a former Royal Navy captain), Capt. Wells who introduced a vessel having both pumping and propelling machinery in one hull. It was a new age in London’s fire-floats. Built to Well’s design, commissioned in 1900, Alpha II was the first of four-vessels brought into service between 1900 and 1912. The other craft being Beta II, Gamma II and Delta II.

The Beta II fire-float.
The Delta fire-float. 1912.

Early 20th century developments (pre-1937).

In 1925 Beta III was placed into service and in 1935 she was joined by the Massey Shaw. Then, pre-WWII, the Brigade had three ‘floating stations; Cherry Gardens-Rotherhithe, Blackfriars-Victoria Embankment, and Battersea, at Battersea Bridge.

The London Fire Brigade maintained a small fleet of fire-floats to meet the needs of dealing with ship and riverside related fires in the Port of London and along the London County Council’s administrative length of the Thames. Beta III is underway, heading towards Tower Bridge. Late 1920s

Lambeth river station.

1937. The new London Fire Brigade headquarters and the Lambeth river fire station with Gamma II berthed alongside.

With the opening of the new Lambeth headquarters in 1937 Battersea shut, its boat transferred to the new Lambeth river station, and the Charing Cross river repair depot was closed. All fire-float repairs, and maintenance, were undertaken by the marine engineers at the new Lambeth HQ workshops. In 1938 Lambeth river station received the new high-speed fire-float, the Braidwood.

Lambeth river fire station. Date: 1937

WWII expansion.

The London Regional River Service and the fireboat attached to the River fire station at Battersea Bridge. Date: late 1940

By the outbreak of the Second World War, in September 1939, the London Fire Brigade had been increased with some 23,000 auxiliary firefighters, many joining its river service and crewing the Home Office boats and converted fire-barges. In 1938 twenty auxiliary fire-floats were ordered and in 1939 ten more were placed into service.In addition, the Brigade had four Thames barges, each barge carried four 1000-gallon (4,500 litre) Dennis fire pumps. The barges could move in all directions, manoeuvred by jets of water from two of the pumps.

One of the Thames barges with their four major fire pumps, moored at the Lambeth river station. 1940.

Massey Shaw/Dunkirk-1940.

The crew of the Massey Shaw returning after their Dunkirk crossings. 1940.

In May 1940 the ‘Massey Shaw’ was despatched to enemy France to assist in the historic evacuation from the Dunkirk beaches.  Its crew comprised both volunteer regulars and auxiliaries and with a naval officer in command. Massey Shaw joined the fleet of ‘Little ships’ and made a number of crossing from Ramsgate to Dunkirk. The fire-float not only saved many from the beaches but rescued 39 severely injured soldiers from a French ship, that had hit a mine in the English Channel and sank.

The Massey Shaw at work in 1935 at a major Thames warehouse blaze.

Massey Shaw would receive two singular honours. She was the only civilian small ship to be mentioned by Vice-Admiral Ramsey in his despatches and following their actions three members of the Shaw’s crew were awarded national gallantry honours.

National Fire Service. 1941-1948

The River Headquarters crest of the NFS River Thames Formation, which covered the Greater London area of the Thames, and included some eighteen fireboats and assorted fire floats and other tenders. 1942

In August 1941 the fire service across the United Kingdom was nationalised and the NFS was created. This was when the name ‘fire-float’ was changed to ‘fireboat’. Both Gamma and Delta saw service during WWII in the newly created Thames River Formation. The formation comprised some seventy craft and they were the first to be equipped with radio communications. Members of the Thames Formation were among the last to be awarded national gallantry awards after two vessels collided and caught fire on 7th January 1945. One British Empire Medal and nine King’s Commendations for Brave Conduct were present to the crews in respect of their actions that day.

A NFS fireboat (AFB2) on the Thames, in the Pool of London, showing its radio communications mast. 1941/2.

On the 1st April 1948 the London Fire Brigade reverted to local authority control (London County Council) as did its fireboats.

The cap badge of the re-formed London Fire Brigade in 1948.

Post WWII fireboats.

The James Braidwood, now as a reserve fireboat, moored at the Lambeth pontoon.

It would be almost 20 years before London had a new fireboat. The ‘Firebrace’ arrived at Lambeth in 1961, replacing the aging Braidwood and joining the Massey Shaw as the capital’s two fireboats. In the years that followed there was a significant change in the nature of the risks on and alongside the River Thames. The Brigade reviewed its fireboat provision. With the Massey Shaw already decommissioned the Firebrace followed suit in the mid-1970s. Two craft, of an identical design, were purchased, the Fire Hawk and the Fire Swift. At just under 14 metres in length the boats carried light pumps to supply its small monitor mounted to the prow. With the ‘Hawk’ covering the upper Thames and the ‘Swift’, stationed at Greenwich pier, down-river. Subsequently the downriver station was closed. The Brigade’s only remaining fireboat station remained at Lambeth.

1950s. The Massey Shaw.
The arrival of London’s newest fireboat, Firebrace, at Lambeth river station in 1961.
The Fire Hawk, one of a matching pair, based at Lambeth with Fire Swift was based at Greenwich.

In April 1985 London Phoenix was placed into operational service. The Phoenix was built as a catamaran. At 18 metres long and seven metres wide, her twin diesel marine engines developed six hundred and twenty horse power. A water salvo could be discharged from her four deck monitors fed by her two fire pumps, capable of pumping nine thousand litres per minute. With her vivid colours, and a top speed of 12 knots, she stood out amongst the myriad of Thames craft. The Fire Hark was retained at the reserve fireboat.

Picture credit-Paul Wood.
The dory of the London Phoenix- Picture credit-Alan Dearing.

Lambeth’s river fire station retains a unique feature amongst the one hundred plus fire stations that comprised the London Fire Brigade. It has no fire station ground. The fireboat covers the length of London’s River Thames whilst riparian fire station’s area (north and south) extends to the mid-point of the Thames. The fireboat simply maintains its primary function of being a floating pump and acting in support of the land-based crews and, when required, acting as a rescue craft.

The Fire Dart berthed at the modernised Lambeth river station, London’s only river fire station. Picture credit-Paul Wood.

Lambeth’s fireboat pontoon is a far cry from its predecessor that was opened, together with the new headquarters building in 1937. Then it comprised of two simple huts on a pontoon and where the river ‘firemen’ would spend their day shifts, returning to the land station to eat their meals and to sleep in the large dormitory on the fire stations’ first floor.

In the intervening years the two huts were replaced by two slightly larger prefabricated single storey buildings. But by the early 1980s both the pontoon and its buildings were in urgent need of replacement. Today’s river firefighters have their own self-contained, purpose built, standalone fire station.

The Fire Dart attending a fire on the Woolwich ferry.

In 1999 the Brigade took delivery of its current generation of fireboats, the Fire Dart and the Fire Swift. These craft, designed to attend a wide range of emergencies along the river and riverside properties. are also capable of responding to other lifesaving tasks on the river. With one of the fireboats on immediate standby, the second is held in reserve and used for training.

The Fire dart crew engaged in the rescue of a person from Southwark Bridge. 2015.

The Brigade has commissioned its new generation fireboat. When it comes into service London’s story of its fireboat continues.

The Massey Shaw today is a heritage fireboat and moored in West India Dock. It is maintained by the Massey Shaw Education Trust, a registered charity. https://masseyshaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/logo.png
All profits from the book go the Massey Shaw Education Trust.

The Hampton Court fire. March 1986.

The Hampton Court fire. 31st March 1986

On the last day of the Greater London Councils’ existence the London Fire Brigade dealt with, if not its biggest blaze of the year, then centainly one of the capital’s most significant heritage fires. It was a fire that had tragic, and fatal, consequences. This is an insight into that blaze and its chronology.

What became clear from the subsequent (i) Royal Inquest; (ii) the Government’s own inquiry; and (iii) the painstaking forensic examination was that this fire had started some considerable time before the first call to the fire brigade was made. It was concluded that the blaze had started in the early hours of the 31st March. The most probable cause was spread from a naked flame (a candle) on the upper floor of the Palace.

Hampton Court Palace remains a Royal Palace. It’s located in the London Borough of Richmond upon Thames in South-west London. It has not been lived in by the Royal Family since the 1700s. The palace contains many notable and rare works of art, together with furnishings from the Royal Collection, mainly dating from the two periods of the palace’s construction; Tudor (Renaissance) and late Stuart to early Georgian.

Throughout the twentieth century Hampton Court established itself as a major London tourist attraction. Contained within its buildings were fifty “grace and favour” residences that were given over to esteemed servants and subjects of the Crown. It was the elderly occupant of one of these grace and favour apartments, Lady Daphne Gale, the 86-year-old widow of General Sir Richard Gale, whose nightly habit of always taking a lit candle into her bedroom had set in train a sequence of events that would be both disastrous for her and the Palace.

Picture credit-Time and Leisure Magazine.

The first call to the London Fire Brigade’s Croydon control room was made at 5.43am. Four fire engines from Twickenham and Kingston, a turntable ladder from Heston and Sutton’s damage control tender and hose laying lorry turned out from their respective stations in response to the 999 call from Hampton Court Palace. Croydon’s fire control unit was also sent as part of the initial augmented attendance to this high profile special risk.

Directed by Palace staff, the crews from Twickenham and Kingston made their way to the affected apartments to assess the extent of the blaze. Crews in breathing apparatus (BA) undertook an exploratory search to determine the possible extent of the fire whilst others secured the initial water supplies and laid out hose lines. Despite there being four pumping appliances already in attendance, thirteen minutes after receiving the first call, the officer in charge sent a priority message, “Make pumps four”. This was followed five minutes later by an informative message which indicated that the whole of the gallery ceiling was alight and that it was not possible to ascertain the full extent of the fire!

Both Twickenham’s and Kingston fire station grounds’ cover large areas of South-west London. It means that other fire engines from surrounding stations have considerable distances to travel to reach Hampton Court Palace, adding vital minutes before they arrive at the scene. During those precious early minutes the intensity of the fire grew. It heated the surrounding combustible materials, allowing the ignition temperatures to reach critical levels thus enabling the uncontrolled spread of fire. Fire that rapidly increase in area and spread with astonishing speed. This fire had established a firm hold. Having consumed the Lady Gale’s apartment it sought fresh fuel.

Seven minutes after making pumps four, pumps were made six. The list of urgent tasks that the officer in charge had to prioritise was daunting. Three residents were believed still to be involved and unaccounted for. A rapidly worsening fire situation was stretching his crews; whilst reinforcing crews had to be briefed. He had to juggle the demands of search and rescue with actual firefighting. Additionally, there were considerable pressures placed upon him to initiate vital salvage operations. (The London Salvage Corps having long since ceased to exist.) Despite the requirements of the then 1947 Fire Services Act, (that placed a duty on every fire authority “to ensure efficient arrangements for ensuring reasonable steps are taken to prevent or mitigate damage to property resulting from firefighting”) the London Fire Brigade had yet to give sufficient emphasis to its salvage training following the demise of the London Salvage Corps, training that could replicate the standards provided by the former Salvage Corps. Salvage work remained an afterthought for many and that lack of pre-planning came home to bite you at an incident such as this. This deficiency now came into focus as national treasures were clearly at risk, not only from the fire and smoke but from water damage too.

Fortunately such pre-planning was something the Palace staff had taken account of given the possibility of a serious fire or flood. Their staff, including its own salvage squad, had been actively engaged in the work of removing and protecting the many historic paintings and artefacts. Working in sometimes difficult conditions, and with the aid of some Brigade personnel, their salvage plan was put into action. Almost all the invaluable works of art and irreplaceable treasures were subsequently saved for the nation. The same cannot be said for the actual fabric of the building. Finally, and with all this frantic activity on-going, the Palace’s automatic fire detection system finally operated. (6.15a.m.)

The arrival of increasing numbers of senior fire officers resulted in further evaluations of the situation and a change of command as more and more pumps were requested. Pumps were made ‘eight’ forty-four minutes after the initial call and the ‘Make pumps twelve’ twelve minutes after that. By now the fire had engulfed the whole of the State apartments, an area some forty metres by twenty metres in a building described as, ‘three-storeys’ high. With ‘make pumps twelve’ another senior officer, of higher rank, took on the mantle of ‘incident commander’. He attempted to put his plan of action into play.

This was easier said than done, given the complexity of the Palace and the lack of access for the firefighting crews. Also, the fire-ground description of the wing as three floors was misleading. The upper two floors, which were erupting into fierce flame, created a false impression as the high vaulted ceiling of both the ground and first floors made the building at least the equivalent of five-storey building.

Assistant Chief Officer Roy Snarey, who took charge of the Hampton Court fire. (Picture credit- London Fire Brigade)

An additional damage control tender had been requested to support the salvage work being undertaken under the direction of the Palace’s conservators. Now, with the intensity of the fire burning its way through the pitched roof (that was itself surrounded by an ornate stone balustrade) the Brigade’s one hundred foot turntable ladders were increased to three.

A typical appliance of the former London Salvage Corps, which by the time of the fire had been disbanded by the Insurance Association on cost grounds. (Picture credit-London Fire Bridage)

Many of the crews wearing compressed air breathing apparatus sets struggled, in their heavy equipment, to gain a better foothold from which to assault the blaze from within. They were severely hampered, not only by heavy smoke logging, but by the very nature of this historic building. Security was naturally very important, given the treasures the Palace contained. Getting through secured doors and entrances was difficult and sometimes impossible. With every minute’s delay the fire grew stronger and gained a firmer hold.

That was not all that was hampering the Brigade’s efforts with a fire that was clearly gaining the upper hand. Water supplies within the Palace’s ground were insufficient to meet the needs of the major pumps that were now supplying many thousands of litres of water per minute to the various jets that were being directed onto the blaze, some with greater success than others. A water relay was established from outside the Palace perimeter. The Water Board’s ‘turncock arrived and ensured that all available water were diverted to provide the Brigades needs and ensured there was no loss of the pressure to the hydrant fed supplies. All the while the fire within the grace and favour apartments continued its insatiable search for fuel. Having moved upwards and outwards it was now affecting the very structure as it ate away at the timber rafters and joists that supported the roof and upper floors. The heat of the blaze rose in to the hundreds of degrees centigrade (over 1,200 degrees Fahrenheit.)

The lead early morning news story on the BBC and ITN that day was the dramatic blaze at Hampton Court Palace. The clamour of the media to cover this “breaking news” story was one more pressure to add to the growing list of tactical considerations of the Incident Commander. The primary consideration for any London Fire Brigade officer has always focused on the preservation of life and property. Despite the many additional duties falling to the Brigade to perform rescues and firefighting were still the major component. It remains the one area where the public always expects the London Fire Brigade to excel. The command of fire-ground incidents including search and rescue can vary, depending on the scale and complexity of the particular fire being fought. There is, however, one constant in the deployment of the crews that weighs heavily in the mind of any Incident Commander. That is the interface and interaction with the structure, its occupancy, its inherent features, hazards and characteristics in a fire. In plain English the risk over benefits of putting firefighters in harm’s way.

Assistant Chief Officer Roy Snarey had taken charge. ‘Losing’ the Palace was not on his agenda and certainly not “live” on national television. This brash, Nottinghamshire, man had been in the Brigade all his considerable service but he had lost none of his Nottingham accent. Highly intelligent, this principal officer had set about co-ordinating his team of senior officers as soon as he had taken command.  He hit the ground running and was determined to contain the blaze and not allow the fire to spread outside the existing fire zone.  By 8.30 a.m. he had his BA firefighters and other firefighting crews in position. His water relay was working and his radio message sent from the major Fire Control Unit simply said;

“Steady progress being made.”

The partial collapse of the central section of the roof eased the smoke logging somewhat and, after adjusting the position of the firefighting crews, he made pumps twenty. He was now in a position to both contain (by boundary cooling) and press home his attack and extinguish the blaze. In doing so he was conscious of the risks that had to be taken by the firefighters who were within the blazing building. For them there was the ever-present danger of working in a burning structure, regardless of its particular construction. Both the firefighters themselves and the Incident Commander had to constantly evaluate the potential risks over benefits before committing themselves to action that may provide no meaningful gain. It was always an unwritten tenant of ‘London firemen’, especially the former smoke-eaters and their “old school” senior officers, that the only way to fight a fire was from the inside. But the risks have always to be measured and assessed in a controlled and calculated manner. No building, or property alone is worth the life of a firefighter. But many firefighters have lost their lives in the past at fires. It is, sadly, the nature of their job.

Firefighting, by its very nature, involves risk. The level of risk is clearly different where life is involved as opposed to saving property alone. In this case Roy Snarey’s view was clear, the remainder of the Palace would be saved. With the firefighters already in attendance and with the aid of the reinforcing crews soon to arrive, he would have the fire managed, despite the fact that many had been battling the blaze for over three hours and were re-entering the fray for a second or third time, having changed their BA cylinders once, some twice, after working to their maximum duration.

Only one person remained unaccounted for. A substantial collapse of the State apartments’ upper floors occurred as the fifteen pumps, three turntable ladders and two damage control tenders arrived to relieve the night watch crews. The collapse hampered progress as the charred timbers, and fallen brickwork and masonry, blocked access routes and made the continuing search both difficult and dangerous.

By 10.45 a.m. the crews had penetrated deep into the search area and the removal of the heavy debris was being undertaken by teams working in relays. The charred remains of Lady Daphne Gale were located late in the morning amongst the debris of her former apartment. A part of the Palace that was now unrecognisable. She was carefully removed and taken by ambulance to the local mortuary.

Her Majesty the Queen being shown the level of destruction by the Environment Secretary, Kenneth Baker, who said palace staff had saved; ‘as much as they could of the irreplaceable pieces of our history.’

Both the Queen and Prince Charles, who was nursing an injured arm from a prior accident, visited the scene of the fire and were escorted inside the building by a principal officer whilst the crews continued their work. The Queen was clearly distressed and anxious about the extent of the damage to one of her Royal Palaces. She was joined in this tour of inspection by the then Home Secretary Kenneth Baker (who had Ministerial responsibility for the fire servicenationally). In his subsequent news interview, Baker praised both the efforts of the Brigade and the Palace’s staff for their gallant and heroic efforts to save both the Palace and many of the national treasures. He was able to confirm that, in fact, only two paintings had been destroyed. However, the State apartments, the King’s Audience chamber and the Cartoon Gallery were not so fortunate. Half the first floor and three-quarters of the second floor and the roof were destroyed by the fire. Much of the debris was being carefully removed by the fire brigade crews. Special attention was paid to salvaging the timber joists and beams, so that subsequent re-construction could be based on, and benefit from the craftsmanship of the earlier skilled workers who had built the Palace two centuries before.

Fire Investigators of the London Fire Brigade start their painstaking search of the debris to determine the cause of the blaze. (Picture Credit-London Fire Brigade.)
The upper levels of the Palace showing the damage caused by the blaze.

In the weeks and months that followed, first up was the Royal Inquest, required for “All bodies found lying within the limits of the Monarch’s Palaces.” This recorded Lady Gale’s death as accidental. A direct consequence of the lit candle that she was in the habit of taking into her bedroom. The Government Inquiry conducted by Sir John Garlick had been ordered by the Secretary of State for the Department of the Environment, Nicholas Ridley. Sir John’s findings were presented to Parliament on the 3rd July by the Secretary of State. Amongst Sir John’s conclusions was his contention that it was highly unlikely that an earlier discovery of the fire would have averted the death of Lady Gale. The Palace’s fire detection system had inadvertently been rendered inoperative. He criticised the arrangement that allowed the fire alarm system, with design shortcomings, to be installed and then handed over with a less than adequate commissioning process. Sir John had discovered that there had been a “turf-war” as regards the jurisdiction of Hampton Court between the Department of the Environment and the Royal Household. This had contributed to an unsatisfactory state of affairs as to the responsibility and accountability for the Palace. He made recommendations for improving the automatic fire alarm system as well as changes in the procedures for its use and in the training of the staff concerned.

In his statement to the House, Mr Ridley made special note of Sir John’s praise towards the devotion and courage of the Palace staff and its salvage squad in seeking to protect life and property once the fire had been discovered. Whatever the Brigade’s own contribution to the salvaging of the Nation’s treasures from the Palace were, the Members of the House never got to hear about it. It was never mentioned!

The Delve Years. The LFB Chief 1948-1962

A Bermondsey warehouse fire in the early 1950s. An iconic image of firemen of the Delve era. (Picture credit London Fire Brigade)

Frederick William Delve was born 28 October 1902. He would command the London Region of the National Fire Service during WWII (1942-1947) prior to becoming the London’s Chief Officer when the fire service was returned to Local Authority control in 1948, a post he held until his own retirement from the Brigade.

Chief Officer Frederick ‘Freddy’ Delve.

Delve was an outstanding figure in the world of fire. His 93 years spanned the part of a century remarkable for its increase in fire hazards and in developing the essential services for dealing with them. Known as ‘Freddy’ Delve he also broke the mould of previous appointments to becoming London’s Chief Fire Officer. He was the first fireman to rise through the ranks reaching the panicle of his profession.

‘Freddy’ Delve was the son of a Brighton master tailor. His parents’ plans for his education were shattered when in 1918 an over-patriotic suffragette on Brighton sea-front mistook the tall, blond, teenage Delve for an older man dodging military service. She pinned a white feather to his lapel. To his parents’ distress, he went and joined the Royal Navy on his 16th birthday. The First World War ended two weeks later. Resigned to Royal Navy life Delve became a wireless telegra­phist. His ship was sent to the Black Sea to evacuate the British Military Missions as the Red Army overran the ports there and for the first time he became aware of the importance of good radio communications.

In 1922 Delve, aged 22, left the Navy and returned to Brighton. Here he joined the local fire brigade as a fireman. The full time, and fully trained, Brighton Corporation Fire Brigade had been established in May 1921 at Preston Circus. It replaced the former Police and Volunteer Brigade which was disbanded.  By 1929 ‘Freddy’ had passed a series of technical examina­tions (with distinction) and had risen to higher rank. He was commended twice for two, separate, and particularly courageous rescues. At the age of 27 he was appointed as the Brigade’s Second Officer (deputy Chief), the youngest then in Britain.

‘Freddy’ Delve moved to the prestig­ious Croydon Fire Brigade as its Chief Officer in 1934. Under his leadership they became the first in the country to install radio communications between all appliances and the Croydon HQ. In his living history interviews, recorded for the Imperial War Museum when Delve was in his 80s, he recalled: “My time in the Royal Navy showed the vital part effective communications played. UHF frequency was being used by the Police and I manufactured at our Croydon workshops early appliance radios.”  It was at Croydon that Delve led his brigade to the legendary Crystal Palace fire in 1936. There, he said, “For the first time I saw firemen turning their brass helmets back to front to protect their faces from the searing heat.” It was there too that he developed the skill which was to become vitally important during the Blitz, of relay­ing hose over long distances and, if necessary, uphill from the water sources to the fires.

On the 16th October 1936 Delve received a letter from the then Home Secretary appointing him to a special working group at Whitehall. Delve was one of a small group of young, dedicated, principal fire officers, who sought to advise the Government on what was necessary to deal with the serious threat of fire-bombing on UK civilian populations It was Delve’s contention, contrary to the public’s perception at the time, that the Government were very focused on the dire consequences of any enemy air attacks on the centres of population, especially the City of London and London’s industrial centres in the likely war ahead. Subsequently, and following the air attack on civilians in Guernica during the Spanish Civil War in 1937, the Home Office committee on which Delve served brought forward proposals for changes in the fire service in Britain. A fire service which, at that time, comprised some 1600 different brigades and much of their equipment incompatible with neighbouring forces. The ensuing Fire Brigade Act of 1938 corrected some of these inefficiencies (but not all) and established the Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS). Plus, for the first time, admitted women into the brigades in non-operational roles.

In January 1941 Frederick Delve’s was awarded the Kings Police and Fire Service Medal (KPFSM) for distinguished service. In the same year he left Croydon to become the Deputy Inspector-in-Chief of Fire Services, under Cmdr. Aylmer Firebrace, London’s former Chief Officer. With German saturation raids targeting major British cities Delve travelled to these areas to offer advice and, if necessary, support from neighbouring brigades or the armed services. However, the heroism of the Blitz firefighters could not hide the deficien­cies of their equipment and general organisation.  Delve was among those who persuaded the Government to establish the National Fire Service in August 1941.

‘Nationalisation’ did not have the political connotations it attracted in later years. The scheme was widely welcomed and, during the WWII, greatly improved the service. Finally, Delve had quite a battle with Firebrace on just how fire brigade reinforcements would be designated. Delve had proposed ‘Task Forces’ whilst Firebrace wanted the name ‘Mobile Columns used. The matter went before the Home Secretary, Herbert Morrison, who came down in favour of Delve. Task Forces came in three sizes; 100 pumps led by a Divisional Officer. 50 pumps led by a Column Officer and 10 pumps led by a Section Leader. The system worked and London’s task forces would later head to Plymouth, Southampton, Birmingham and Liverpool in the aftermath of enemy bombing. In 1942 Delve was awarded the CBE.

By January 1943 Delve had been appointed the Chief Officer of No 5 (London) Region. It remains a matter of conjecture, but it seems highly likely, that Delve’s selection to take charge of the Region was behind the reason for Major Jackson’s departure to the Home Office. Jackson had led the London Brigade with much distinction throughout the Blitz. He, as deputy Chief, had been the Commander of the London’s Brigade. He had guided it through unprecedented times during 1940-41. The appointment of Delve, the former Chief Officer of the Croydon Brigade with only four fire station was possibly a bitter pill for Jackson to swallow! In any event Jackson never stayed to serve under Delve for long.

The River Headquarters crest of the NFS River Thames Formation, which covered the Greater London area of the Thames and down river to the Estury mouth. The formation included various fireboats and assorted fire-floats and other tenders. 1942. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

Delve was responsible of the whole of the Greater London area, including the seventy craft of the River Thames Formation which he delighted in equipping with radio-communication. It proved essential in their work protecting the fleet of support vessels which packed the Thames Estuary, laden with explosives and ammunition, awaiting the D-Day invasion. In fact, the eastern end of the length of the Thames was involved in the prepara­tions for the eventual liberation of Europe. Hundreds of Thames lighters were converted to carry supplies and equipment for landing on the coast of France on D-Day. Many of these were crewed by Thames watermen, recruited into the Navy for ‘Special Combined Operations’ for the duration of the war. The NFS Thames Formation had the additional responsibility of keeping the waterway safe from the spread of fire, especially given the large volumes of flammable stores and fuel oil that was being moved by barge and ship on the river.

NFS fireboat AFB2 in the Pool of London.River Thames Formation. Delve had succeeded in equipping the fireboats with radio-communication. It was to prove essential in their work protecting the fleet of support vessels which packed the upper Thames and the Thames Estuary until the end of WWII. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

In late 1943 Hitler, once again, ordered the mass bombing of southern England. As a result, the Luftwaffe gathered some five hundred aircraft to carry out this order. The raids were never of the same scale, or intensity, as the Blitz mainly because most of the experienced German bomber crews had been lost over Russia and in other campaigns. But on the 21st January 1944 the Luftwaffe bombed London employ­ing over four hundred and forty aircraft in the process. However, due to the lack of experienced crews and the greatly improved British night fighters, and other defences, the raid proved a relative failure. Only a fraction of the bombs actually dropped landed on London. The raids did continued for another three months but, by which time, the Luftwaffe had been comprehensively defeated having fewer than ninety serviceable bombers and seventy fighters remaining in Western Europe.

Although the ‘Baby Blitz’ attacks had involved more Luftwaffe aircraft than any other raids on the UK since 1941, the effectiveness of air and ground defences prevented the destruction that occurred in 1940/41. However, Delve soon found himself protecting London again from a new onslaught by the enemy. The arrival of V1 and then V2 rockets unleased fresh carnage on London’s population.

A flying bomb attack on the Aldwich. WC2-1944. On the 30 June Aldwych suffered one of the deadliest V1 flying bomb attacks of the war. A fortnight after the first V1 strikes on London the menacing drone of yet another ‘Doodlebug‘ attacks was heard over London. (Picture credit-unknown)

In 1947 a new Fire Service Act was passed into law and enacted on the 1st April 1948. It placed the responsibility for maintaining efficient fire brigades into the hands of local authorities. The London Fire Brigade had its name restored and was returned again to the London County Council (LCC). The Brigade area covered the whole of the LCC’s administrative area and the length of the Thames within its boundary. Other fire brigades such as Delve’s former Croydon Brigade, East Ham, and West Ham that had formed part of the NFS (London Region), were returned to their respective County Borough Councils. The County Coun­cils of Kent, Surrey, Essex and Middlesex became fire authorities in their own rite for the first time. London remained the country’s largest brigade with some two thousand five hundred officers and men. Frederick William Delve was retained as the Chief Officer of the re-formed Brigade.

The London County Council-London Fire Brigade cap badge. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

1949. London firemen dealing with an overflowing Thames on the Albert Embankment, SE1. opposite the London Fire Brigade headquarters. The Lambeth river station’s access gantry is below water. (Pictur credit-London Fire Brigade)

London’s fires were nothing on the scale of the worst days of the Blitz. However, there were enough to place serious demands on the Brigade. Tragically some incidents brought its operational procedures under serious scrutiny, none more so than in the wearing, and use, of breathing apparatus (BA). Any change was hard fought and slow. Following a series of major London blazes between late 1949 and 1958, where firemen wearing breathing apparatus lost their lives, changes to proce­dures were finally enacted. During Delve’s peace time reign as Chief Officer 11 firemen and officers perished in the line of duty.

The first of these tragic deaths happened at the Covert Garden Market fire in 1949. It had started during the morning of the 20th Decem­ber, the last fire engine leaving at 1.40 p.m. on the 22nd December. Station Officer Charles Fisher, from Whitefriars fire station, died during the very difficult and arduous firefighting operations. In his subsequent report given on the 24th January 1950 to the Fire Brigade Committee of the LCC Chief Officer Delve surprisingly reported that in his opinion the brigade’s organisation had been satisfactory despite the death of one of his officers although an internal inquiry found proce­dural deficiencies. However, as a direct result of this tragic fire Delve introduced a nominal roll board which was placed in all fire station watchrooms. The names of crews were appended at the start of each watch and adjusted throughout the day as necessary. Firemen wearing BA had the letters BA added after their names, but these boards were not carried on appliances.

December 1949. The basement fire at the Covent Garden flower market where Station Officer Charles Fisher lost his life.

Post war one of Delve’s first actions was to change petrol driven fire engines to diesel. Diesel engines gave greater capacity over the then petrol engines. One of the major risks in London remained St Paul’s Cathedral. Senior officers would time the attendance to St Pauls and how long it took to get a jet of water to work over the ‘Golden Cross’ on the Dome, some 300 feet high. It had taken two petrol fire engines to get one jet of water over the Cross whilst with the new diesel engine it needed only one engine.

Cannon Street’s pump-escape at St Paul’s, on whose station ground St Paul’s was located. (Picture Credit-London Fire Brigade)

Historians consider the 1950s as a prosperous decade. Record quantities of imports and exports passed through London’s docks. The reconstruction efforts, post war, remained in full swing. Skilled labour was being actively recruited from Commonwealth countries and was helping to build and staff London’s new hospi­tals, houses and schools. London’s population was in excess of three and quarter million, and growing. Manufacturing firms flourished during this decade, particularly those making consumer goods such as televisions, washing machines and radios. ‘White collar’ jobs were on the increase as an office boom brought over fifty thousand new jobs to London and service took a bigger share of London’s overall economy. All of which resulted in a busy operational workload for the London Fire Brigade, including its three working fireboats; the Massey Shaw. Beta III and the James Braidwood.

1950. A Thames-side blaze in a paraffin wax warehouse. (Picture credit-Pathe`)
London firemen, after the 1950 Thames-side blaze, enjoying a ‘cuppa’ from the Brigade’s canteen van and who are covered in paraffin wax. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
Clapham fire station, in Old Town, circa 1950. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
The London Fire Brigade headquarters, basement, control room. The control room officers both received the 999 calls and mobilised station crews to incidents. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
Rank markings for the officers of the London Fire Brigade.

Delve took charge of the Broad Street fire in 1951 where three of his fireman were killed and many others injured, including his deputy Mr McDuell (who as a result of his injuries had a leg amputated). In his official report Delve was unflinching in his praise and admiration for the work of his firemen and officers in the most difficult and harrowing of circumstance. His praise for their courage and unwavering devotion to duty removed the previous threat of disciplinary action against many firemen who had taken limited Fire Brigade Union industrial action in pursuit of a claim for fairer pay before the fire.

The Eldon Street fatal fire. (Picture credit-The Illustrated London News)
Funeral procession of the London firemen killed in the Eldon Street blaze. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

Delve was an old school firefighter. He is quoted as following the ‘gospel’ of the late, great, Capt. Sir Eyre Massey Shaw. Delve’s adage was “Getting in-see the fire and don’t waste water.” Which, in part, might explain why he was slow to change London’s BA procedures in light of previous fatal accidents. The second major fatal fire, in 1954, cost the lives of Station Officer Frederick Hawkins and Firemen Arthur Batt-Rawden and Charles Gadd, all from Clerkenwell fire station. It, ironically, also occurred in the Covent Garden Market area. A fire that brought about limited change to procedures.

Three firemen died fighting this blaze in a Covent Garden warehouse in Langley Street. The first crews to arrive, from Clerkenwell fire station, found the warehouse well alight. The building was heavily smoke-logged. As the crews entered the building flammable gases exploded causing the roof to collapsed with fatal consequences. Station Officer Hawkins and fireman Batt-Rawden were both killed by the fall of debris. Fireman Gadd died later as a result of his injuries. 1954. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
1954. An injured fireman is carried away after the explosion and fire that killed three of his colleagues at the Langley Street fire, Covent Garden. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

The fire had started in a five storey warehouse at 3 p.m. on the 11th May. It spread with explosive ferocity and burned until approximately 11.30 p.m. on the same day. Again Delve’s internal investigation found that no recording, or supervising, of firemen entering and leaving the fire wearing breathing apparatus had taken place. In fact, one fireman was only accounted for when a roll call was taken back at the fire station concerned. Other shortfalls found there was still no means for a fireman to summon assistance in an emergency.

(Picture credit-The Illustrated London News)

It took fire crews nearly an hour to locate a trapped colleague after the building collapse, and there were no agreed evacuation signals to warn firemen to withdraw if signs of a building collapse became evident. It was not until the following year, 1955, that a general Fire Service Technical Bulletin (No 2/1955) was issued. This set out, and stressed, the importance of two fundamen­tal points of good BA procedure. 1. That BA should be donned and started up in fresh air before the wearer entered an incident; and 2. If the wearer’s nose clip or face mask became dislodged for any appreciable period of time the wearer should return to fresh air.

A London County Council information leaflet on the London Fire Brigade issued in 1950s.
LFB recruits taking part in hook ladder training at the Brigade’s Training ASchool located at the Lambeth headquarters station. Date: 1956. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
Fire at 298 Old Brompton Road, London SW5 on the 25th February 1956. Sub Officer Kirby, of A9 Fulham fire station, is carrying a 19-month-old child down in his arms. (Picture credit-unknown)
The London Fire Brigade’s WWII memorial, erected to members of the London Fire Services who died in the line of duty during the London Blitz and from subsequent enemy action on the Home Front. The memorial, commissioned by the London County Council, was dedicated and unveiled on the 10 April 1956 at the London Fire Brigade Headquarters, Lambeth. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

In December 1957 Delve took command of the Lewisham Train crash on a fog bound evening commute near St John’s station in south-east London. The steam engine ‘Spitfire’ and its train, several hundred tons all told, ploughed into the back of a stationary local ‘Hayes’ train. The force of the impact was catastrophic and deadly. The emergency services had no ‘major accident procedure’ then. However, it was very apparent to all three services that the crash was of calamitous proportions.

Access to the crash site was extremely difficult. It could only be made, initially, by means of an extension ladder pitched, to form a bridge, from the roof of an appliance to the top of a 12ft high brick wall. Also a steep embankment had to be negotiated to reach the permanent way. The sight that met the first crews from Lewisham, and then surrounding fire stations, was almost impossible to comprehend. The impact had thrown many passengers from the trains and they were lying, some already dead and others with life-threatening injuries, on both the permanent way and the embankment. The death toll was the most severe, however, in the rear coaches of the ‘Hayes’ train. These had been packed to ‘standing room only’ capacity. Miraculously, some passen­gers in this part of the train had survived the crash itself but now lay entombed in the midst of the entangled remnants of the carriages. The Brigade’s only two emergency tender crews were to the fore. (There were only two then in the London Fire Brigade in the 1950s) They set about the task of extracting the trapped and moving away the bodies of the dead. Alongside London’s firemen, doctors and nurses also moved among the injured administering morphine to those in pain. The London Fire Brigade control unit, from Lambeth, was located in the adjacent Thurston Road, and four advanced control points were established around the scene of the wreck making use of the walkie-talkie equipment. Extra cutting equipment was brought in as rescue work continued through the evening and into the night. The death toll was initially ‘officially’ listed as 90, although it grew higher as a number due to the victims later succumbed to their injuries. Many were removed to hospital and 109 were admitted.


The evening rush hour of Wednesday 4 December 1957 was a very foggy one. The sight that met the first fire engine crews from Lewisham, and then surrounding fire stations, was almost impossible to comprehend. The impact of the train crash had thrown many passengers from the trains and they were lying, some already dead and others with life-threatening injuries, on both the permanent way and the embankment.
Extra cutting equipment was brought in as rescue work continued through the evening and into the night.
The cold, grey light of dawn revealed the true scale of the St John’s rail disaster.(Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

It took the deaths of a further two London firemen, Station Officer Jack Fourt-Wells and Fireman Richard Stocking, from the ill-fated Clerkenwell fire station, before a radical review of BA operational procedures would be finally enacted.

The scene of the Smithfield meat market fire in January 1958.

The fire occurred in the early hours of a January morning in 1958. It had started in the base­ment of Smithfield Meat Market. The fire proved to be one of the most difficult blazes to tackle since the end of the war. In truth the fire won as it was so difficult was to extinguish. But there were some pluses, one was the local procedure established by the Brigade following the second Covent Garden fire in 1956 worked. They involved the provision of a ‘Control Point’ set up to record the entry of BA firemen into the incident. It consisted of nothing more than an ordinary black­board and, written up with white chalk, recording individuals names, their station, time of entry and their time due out. This procedure proved to be invaluable. It was able to indicate, later in the incident, that two men were overdue and missing.

Immediately following the disastrous fire at Smithfield, and its tragic loss of life, (plus the previous fatal fires at Covent Garden) there were calls for a more comprehensive schedule of BA proce­dures to be formulated. These calls came from Delve himself, Leslie Leete, his Deputy Chief, plus John Horner the General Secretary of the Fire Brigades Union (FBU) and a former London fireman. In addition the FBU had circulated twenty thousand membership question­naires on possible improvements to BA procedures.

By February 1958, due to the firemen’s outcry over the recent deaths of colleagues, the Home Office set up a Committee of Inquiry into the operational use of BA. It appeared from its first meeting that some efforts had previously been made by the Home Office to establish a procedure for the use of BA although nothing had been circulated to UK brigades on the progress made. By June twelve UK brigades were circulated with a trial procedure. By August obser­vations and recommendations had been received by the Commit­tee of Inquiry who prepared an interim report. In that October FIRE SERVICE CIRCULAR 37/1958 was issued. It detailed the findings of the Committee of Inquiry and recommended the following five changes. They were:- A tally for every individual BA set that recorded the wearers name, the cylinder pressure and time they entered an incident: A Stage I and Stage II control procedure for recording & supervising BA wearers: and the duties of a BA control operator.

The new BA control procedures being practised in a training drill. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

Additionally the recommendations set out the duties and procedure to be followed by BA crews: and establishing a main control procedure at incidents where there was extensive use of BA. All UK fire brigades were requested to report their observa­tions and recommendations, in the light of experience, by the end of November 1959.

Another of Delve’s serious concerns was the state of the brigade’s accommodation needs. Most of London stations were old. They were more suited to the horse drawn fire engines of the past. The London County Council had previously agreed a comprehen­sive programme of rebuilding and re-siting fire stations as early as 1949. However, the financial difficulties prevailing post war made any rapid modernisation programme unrealistic if not impossible. Government grants were only be given if the Home Office (who was responsible for the Fire Service) approved them. The Home Office was most reluctant to do so, and in any event there were far more pressing demands. New housing, new schools and other important infrastructure projects over-ruled any new fire stations. Hardly any fire stations were built in London before 1956.

The North Kensington fire station, opened in 1882, and typical of the outdated buildings housing London’s fire stations. The station was finally replaced by a new North Kensington station in 1985.

Delve did bring about some early notable changes however. On his recommendations the London County Council had decided to abolish the street fire alarms in 1949. These alarms had been a source of increasing false and malicious calls, although the very last street alarm did not disappear from London streets until 1958. But most notable were Delve’s improvements in the area of the Capitals fire prevention arrangements. Many thousands of inspections were made by the Brigade each year, building plans were examined, fire prevention requirements prescribed and certificates of suitability issued. Officers specialising in fire prevention now attended all large fires to gather information, watch the effects of particular hazards, and give advice as to means of checking the spread of fire and undertaking investigations into the cause of the fire and breaches of any fire safety regulations.

Crews in rehersals for the public review held annually at the Lambeth Headquarters. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

Delve saw the return of the Brigade’s Annual Reviews. He was fully aware of the merit that the occasions brought to the London scene. Lambeth’s balconies were full to brim every year and he used the occasion to also recognised the bravery and courage of London firemen. He also maintained the wide range of the Brigades various competitions, all inter-stations, from the quizzes to the pump and pump-escape competitions and whaler boat racing on the River Thames.

The London Fire Brigade band played an important part in the reviews in addition to playing on a regular basis at events on the London scene. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)
1960. Multipule rescues on the Fulham Road. An extansion ladder, the 50 foot wheeled escape ladder, 100 foot turntable ladder and hook ladder all being used in the rescue attempts.

Slowly Delve modernised the Brigade’s appliance fleet too. In 1961 a new fireboat arrived. The fireboat Firebrace entered service. She was berthed at the headquarters and was moored at the Lambeth river station. The James Braidwood was sold off and the Massey Shaw remained downstream at Woolwich, its crew bedding down at night at nearby Woolwich fire station in Sunbury Street.

The arrival of the new London fireboat, the Firebrace, after its trip around the south coast from the commissing boat yard. Mooring at the Lambeth river station where it was berthed, (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade.

Delve’s last year in office was bitter sweet. In 1962, a year which saw him knighted, the first London Chief Officer to do so whilst still in office, he led the Brigade’s Honour Guard at the funerals of Station Officer Thomas Carterand Fireman James Bardens, both from Peckham fire station, who were killed at a railway incident in Camberwell’s Wyndham Road. SE5.

Delve was a fireman’s Chief who led from the front.

Delve retired from the Brigade in 1962 and passed the Chief’s baton on to Leslie Leete. He continued working and joined the board of Securicor, then the UK’s largest security company, as a director. Delve was an active Freemason. In retirement, and in his 80’s, he did a series of ‘Oral History’ narrations for the Imperial War Museum relating his war years. He was a regular attendee to the LFB ‘Roundthreads’ Reunions well into in later years.

Sir ‘Freddy’ Delve (white haired) in his retirement but a constant supporter of the Fire Service and the London Fire Brigade.

He never ceased to grieve for his beloved wife, Ethel who had died in 1980 after their fifty-six years of happy marriage. ‘Freddy’ Delve died at the age of ninety-three on the 2nd October 1995.

DCP

It’s a word with two syllables; ‘fire’ and ‘man’…

London firemen using the 50 foot wheeled escape ladder to gain access to the upper floors of a terraced house fire in Notting Hill, West London. 1962. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

It’s a word with only two syllables ‘fire’ and ‘man’. Yet combined they meant so much too so many, especially when the senior London Fire Brigade (LFB) hands (who took us young lads under their experienced wing) inferred that one day we might actually become one! The London firemen of the 1940s had a very different world to us that followed them. People who, themselves, had been taught by those of an earlier LFB generation. How different were their times.We were poles apart from those old enough to be your Dad when we joined the LFB during the 1960s.

There was a massive influx of firemen and firewomen in London prior to the Blitz (1940-1941) following the creation of the Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS) in 1938. The AFS were trained by the regular London firemen but the Blitz, and what followed, proved a hard training ground where these new entrants were concerned. With the coming of the National Fire Service in 1941 most transferred into the London Fire Region. It was those who made the LFB their career post WWII, and became the backbone of the Brigade, and who mentored many a future London fireman.

These men (and women) were born before television, before polio vaccine, frozen foods, plastic, and contact lenses. No credit cards for them, nor laser beams, dishwashers, tumble dryers, electric blankets and drip dry cloths. They, normally, married first and then lived together. ‘Fast-food’ was what you ate in Lent. A ‘Big Mac’ was an oversized raincoat and ‘crumpet’ was for tea. Theirs were days before care centres and disposable nappies. They listened to a wireless or gramophone-they never heard of FM radio, tape decks, and computing was still a State secret. The only chips they knew were bits of wood or a piece of fried potato. Hardware was nuts and bolts and ‘software’ wasn’t a word back then. For them ‘making out’ was how they did in exams, whilst a ‘stud’ was something that fastened their collar to their shirt. Cigarette smoking was the norm but ‘Grass’ was mown and ‘Coke’ was kept in the coal shed and a ‘Joint’ was a cut of meat served up on Sundays, and ‘Pot’ was something in the kitchen they cooked in!

London fireman, in 1948, riding a turntable ladder.

Those born before the Second World War were certainly a hardy bunch. Their world had change so much by the time us young men came into their focus in the 1960s. Thankfully there was no noticable generation gap for us ‘sprogs’; we watched and learnt from these ‘old’ men. Men who taught us what being a fireman meant. A fact that I have never forgotten. A seven letter word which still carries such meaning and pride..’fireman‘.

A London Fire Brigade dual purpose ‘pump-escape’ from Cannon Street fire station parked outside St Paul’s Cathedral, City of London. Late 1950s. (Picture credit London Fire Brigade)

Derelicts.

Despite the ever increasing disparity in our age by the late 1960s, the station senior hands always remained a font of knowledge and information. They were generally considered always a ‘safe pair of hands’. Their experience spoke volumns; even if they remained remarkably modest about their own past deeds and, for some, considerable accomplishments. But for many at station level, and certainly across inner London, during the 60s and into the early 70s we got to combine the senior hands guidance with practical firefighting on a massive scale. It was a shared experience. For me it was in south London, but it could have be taken anywhere, north, east or west London. History would recall it as a snap shot in time, as large swathes of the city areas were undergoing wholesale demolition.

During the late 1960s and early 1970s large swathes of inner London were undergoing wholesale demolition.

Demolition of poor housing earned a bad name for itself in London during the 1960s and ’70s. Sadly, both the Greater London Council and the London Boroughs swept away whole communities. No doubt other corporations did exactly the same. The demolition was hugely destabilising, clumsy, and a laborious process then. Occasionally existing tenants got “in the way”. Tenants left in a single property whilst the houses around them were knocked down whilst they awaited a new home. Tenants were also affected by degrading press headlines about the slum clearances, occasionally tagged as criminals or scroungers, which end up presenting entire areas as “hopeless cases”, if not actual perpetrators of their own worst social ills.

London firemen’s helmets of the 1960s to mid 1970s.

However, for those of a certain LFB generation this was real fire training. Derelicts would fill many a busy night in the inner London divisions. ‘Old school’ guvnors (Station Officers and Sub Officers) would see hell freeze over before they would ‘make-up’ on another ‘bloody’ derelict. Fire engines could be stripped bare of hose whilst a row of houses, or a small derelict factory, blazed merrily away. For many, me included, during the late sixties and early seventies putting out ‘derelicts’ provided much of our practical firemanship skills. Fires, which in part, were a development of the unscrupulous practices of many ‘dodgy’ demolition contractors. Such gangs often won contracts for the large scale clearances of the, then, back-to-back slum terraced housing and larger tenement buildings which dominated much of the London landscape. It was certainly typical of the old housing stock in and around where I was stationed in Lambeth, Southwark and Bermondsey. But my experiences were common-place back then across most many inner city fire station crews.

Off on yet another call. Firemen at Euston fire station. (Picture credit-London Fire Brigade)

This wholesale replacement of these inadequate dwellings resulted in ‘new’ high-rise flats, ill designed estates and poorly constructed concrete monoliths. Inadequately planned local authority housing projects that would, in the decades that followed bring about their own special social and community problems. Many of large council estates built in the 1960s and ’70s were laid out in ways that did not maximise land use. Their layout was frequently unattractive. Some of these council estates did offer decent conditions, satisfied tenants, community stability and well-maintained buildings, high density, additional infill buildings and community facilities. Notable estates were in Hammersmith and Fulham and met all these conditions, while additionally housing nearly 2000 almost entirely low-income council tenants eventually.

But back then the non-existent rules and scant regard for the limited regulations governing the tactics of these demolition gangs, employed in these mass clearances, provided many a hectic shift, especially near their going home time or later during the night. This was the era before the Health and Safety at Work Act had come so much to the fore and with it a culture of prescriptive safety regulations.

But for those wearing silver buttoned ‘Melton’ fire-tunics, black cork helmets and black leggings they would find large buildings, or whole streets, partly demolished and the contents and timbers burnt on site. Frequently what the ‘contactors’ could not achieve by burning the local street urchins, and mischievous little kids, did so by setting fire to whatever they could find especially during their school holidays and over weekends.  To my mind those days were a forerunner to modern day training ‘fire-houses’. Some might argue they were far superior because they allowed us young ‘apprentices’ and probationer firemen to learn their craft on the job.

The Red Watch of Brixton Fire Station, in south-west London, in 1967.

Yes, these burning buildings were naturally hazardous, some even deadly. But they also provided an important learning curve too. Not least because they also acted as a magnet both to the young and those fascinated by fire, especially when it came to lighting them. You never presumed a derelict was just a derelict. The prospect that children, or others, might still be inside these buildings was always at the forefront of our minds. Fighting derelict building fires was fun but it was never a game. For us it was all part of our fireman’s story.

For today’s firefighters, and control officer’s, their language reflects the modern LFB, its terms and it’s jargon. But I am certain their raw emotions, and total commitment, remains no different to any of us old London firemen/control officers. It is simply not possible for us, those of yesteryear, to put ourselves in the shoes of our modern contemporaries. They work in different times under different rules and procedures. As an example of this, ours was a time ‘little’ flat jobs and small house fires. Those everyday fires, what we called the LFB’s ‘bread and butter’ jobs. It is where we honed our craft.

The pump-escape, pump and turntable ladder from Lambeth fire station turning out of the Brigade Headquarters. Lambeth fire station occupied the ground and first floor of the main building.1968.

They were the heady days of the ‘Dennis’ (as shown above) and of other boxy shaped fire engines. Engines carrying wooden ladders, some with big wheels others with teeth, bills and hooks. Of heavy, rubber lined, canvas hose and large red, weighty, hand-controlled branches named London!  Our breathing apparatus was called Proto. Oxygen sets that came in two colours; blue and yellow. Our fire-ground uniform was black except for the chrome tunic buttons, a chrome belt buckle plus a pair of red plastic gloves! It was a uniform consisting of woven material tunics, leather boots and cork helmets exactly like those worn to fires even before WWII. They were the days when we were told, “Stick with so and so. You do whatever he tells you and do nothing else”. The ‘So and so’s’ were the older LCC fireman who taught you your craft. Firemen who wore their WWII medal ribbons on their undress uniforms but said nothing about them or how they got them.

The White Watch office staff of Lambeth Fire station with their Station Officer Jack Stacey, a WWII verteran and Desert Rat.

The ‘flat’ jobs were, in the main, in LCC styled flats. The house jobs in old style, brick built, housing stock These little ‘jobs’ might have been anywhere in London; Hackney, Hammersmith, Holloway or Peckham. The one pictured just happens to be south of the River, and despite what might have been involved the common ‘stop’ message was: ‘Small fire flat/house, hosereel. BA.’ Yet behind those five words was many a tale. A tale of smoke-filled room’s easily involving the whole flat or house. Of horse-hair mattresses, or armchairs, producing smoke so thick you could cut it with a knife. Its distinctive odour filling nostrils as firemen crawled in low, sometimes on bellies pulling in the hosereel tubing and seeking the fires origin. So pernicious was the smoke its malignant effects could deprive the occupants of life and frequently did. Adrenaline charged firemen going the extra mile whenever the possibility of someone, especially a child, was believed involved.

Typical London County Council (LCC) built flats.

As for the terrace houses, be they two-storey or the bigger three and four storeys, many where in multi occupancy. Regardless where they occurred the fires, its smoke and the consequences, were never a respecter of either colour or creed. Fireman rushed in where others were rushing out. Firemen coughing and spewing all part of the price of getting in, beit with a hosereel or a jet whilst others, with streaming eyes, searched to make sure everyone, that should be, was out and safe.

The Melton tunics acted like blotting paper, soaking up both water and the stench of the smoke. Its lingering reek filling the firemen’s gear room, with its unique aroma, at the end of the shift. And then with the drama resolved, not always with the fire out, the guvnor sends his simple ‘stop’ message. The crews, with sore eyes and snotty noses, tick off yet another ordinary ‘bread and butter’ job.

‘Persons Reported’.

Fire at 298 Old Brompton Road, London SW5. With the escape ladder extended to the second floor, Sub Officer Kirby of Fulham fire station carries a 19-month-old child, Dennis Norman McGowan, down in his arms. The child had been left in his cot in the front room before the fire started. (Picture credit-unknown)

They remain two simple words which would transformed a ‘job’ into a matter of life or death. They were words that sent firemen (and today’s firefighters), already going the extra mile, that bit further. Two words, that when read on the teleprinter ordering slip, or heard over the radio, put an extra dose of adrenaline coursing through the system of those responding.

An image captured, and printed in the national press, of a London fireman rescuing a child from a smoke filling room.

Sometimes, tragically, it was already too late. Maybe it was too late even before the first fire engine had left the station? Frequently, this was not the case, lives still hanging in the balance. Lives dependent on them being found and quickly, then once found, resuscitated. Used time and time again those two words never lost its importance or its significance. The impact it had on those trying their best, to save those involved could, and often did, lay dormant. A good outcome and possibly a feeling that trying your best might smooth over the trauma of even the most arduous event. But a bad outcome, a life or lives lost, and those feelings can lay hidden only to come back unexpectedly to haunt those involved for the rest of their days.

Temporary Station Officer Ken Milson rescues a child from a fire at Birch Court, Middleton Road,E8 in November 1985. A total of nine people were rescued. (Picture Credit-Paul Wood)

At the risk of sounding blasé you lose count of the number of times when that message was sent and you were there. Often you were the one that sent the message. It has nothing to do with being unimpressed, excited or worried by the event, or because you have seen or experienced it all before. Quite the contrary, the outcome was positive. Lives were saved, snatch rescues performed, or most common of all, those reported involved were safe anyway! Gone down the shops, up the road, or got out of the building before you even arrived. But you search anyway. None of the emotions of those searching is switched off until conformation of ‘all persons accounted for’ is given. Even then, you still have another look round to make sure, unless you can see them for yourself.

London’s firefighters going the extra mile-more often than not its not captured by the national press as it happens.

What is never lost from your conscious is the ‘persons reported’ where, no matter what you might do, it seems too little -too late. Young lives lost being the worse, and for whatever reason, it leaves an invisible scar that you take to the grave.

Today’s firefighters, still doing what it takes to get the job done. (Picture credit-Nigle Saunders)

Today’s people have the tag ‘firefighters’. Not only does it reflect the shift to gender-neutral language but the changes in society and the values of the Fire Service in the 21st century. I am sure those who go by the term ‘firefighter’ have exactly the same pride as anyone who went by the former term. But ‘fireman’ was what I was when I joined the London Fire Brigade. Do not redact, or sanitise, the term for the sake of political correctness from those who’s rank was fireman when they joined the service.

Old Kent Road firemen reviving a child after a fire at the Elephant and Castle. 1969. (Picture credit-Owen Rowlands)

DCP.

First base-Watling Street. City of London.

Braidwood’s London Fire Engine Establishment steamer racing through the City. (Illustrated London News)

With no suitable Insurance Company fire station/building in which to house the newly created London Fire Engine Establishment Headquarters (1833) and to provide a residence for its first Superintendent, James Braidwood, a reclaimed building was secured in Watling Street. EC. It became the principal station of the LFEE’s seventeen fire stations and its two floating engine stations. It was located on the north side of Watling Street, sitting between Bow Lane and the junction with Queen Victoria Street. The station address was No 68 Watling Street; but today the site encompasses No’s 66 to 69. (Bacon’s pocket London plan [map] of 1899 shows that end of Watling Street as a block of connected buildings.)

Walting Street-1833. City of London.

Braidwood was required to ‘live over the shop’ at London’s ‘double’ engine station. The buildings former use is not stated in the Insurance Co reports but it clearly had sufficient accommodation for the two horse-drawn manual fire engines. Contained within the four-storey building’s footprint was the engine room, the stables for the four horses and sufficient accommodation for the foremen and the firemen (some with families) required to reside at the Watling Street station, which was named Cheapside. The station underwent adaption in 1850 but strain was already beginning to show on a building too small for its growing role.

Braidwood’s firemen wore a dark grey uniform. His Brigade consisted of only 76 firemen. Each marked with an individual number, placed on the left of the tunic, a number that corresponded to his name in the roll. Any report of misconduct, which reflected discredit on the LFEE, was brought to the attention of the Superintendent at the Watling Street HQ.

One third of the men were constantly on duty at the engine house day or night, and the whole force were liable to be summoned to fires, or any other duty, at a moment’s notice. Braidwood’s men were also responsible for salvage and the protection of goods from both fire and water damage. Although this was a secondary duty. No man could leave a station from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. except to attend a fire, or with a written order from the Superintendent. The moment an alarm of fire was given, wherever it may be within the LFEE boundary, Braidwood had to attend (‘with all possible expedition, and takes command of the whole force’). Braidwood was no fan of the ‘new’ steam fire engine and it was not until 1860 that the LFEE acquired its first ‘steamer’, and even that was hired.

Capt. Eyre Massey Shaw. Superintendent of the London Fire Engine Establishment 1861-1866.
First Chief Officer of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, created in 1866.

Following Braidwood’s death at the Tooley Street fire in 1861 Capt. Massey Shaw was appointed as the second LFEE Superintendent. The claustrophobic atmosphere of his headquarters, and his family’s accommodation, took a little while to bite on Shaw but within a couple of years he deemed it too small, and not fit for purpose, for the headquarters of the new London wide municipal fire brigade. The Metropolitan Fire Brigade (MFB) came into force on the 1st January 1866, although Shaw did not have much time to complain that day as he had a massive fire at St Katherine’s Dock to content with. In fact, it would be another 12 years before Shaw managed to move from the Watling Street address to one south of the river in Southwark.

One effect of the creation the MFB was that the fire brigade no longer maintained a salvage responsibility and so the Insurance Company’s formed, and financed, the London Salvage Corps (LSC). There first station opened at No 33 Watling Street before moving to No 64 in 1874. (Other LSC stations opened at Southwark, Great Marlborough Street and Wellclose Square the same year (1866).

64 Watling Street. London Salvage Corps station.
64 Watling Street. London Salvage Corps station stables.

64 Watling Street. London Salvage Corps station.

The Great Marlborough Street station-Soho-London. Opened in 1866.

With the LSC headquarters established in Watling Street, the MFB headquarters moved to Southwark Bridge Road. SE. opening in 1878. The Cheapside fire station was retained at No 68. Its most noteworthy blaze occurred in 1902 and received national press coverage. Not least because of the unwarranted criticism of the Brigade’s response and its actions. Such was the press’s campaign it led Capt. Wells R.N. (now Chief Officer of the MFB) to consider his future. The London press, in particular, had him in their sights after nine people, eight of them women, died in the fire.

Tragic fire in the City of London. Cheapside station-Watling Street- first to respond. 1902.

The fire in Queen Victoria Street involved a five-storey office building. Despite the delay in summoning the fire brigade when they arrived their 50-foot ladders could not reach those women trapped, and screaming for help, on the upper floor. By the time the Brigade’s 70-foot escape ladder arrived from its Southwark’s base it helped in the rescue of two women . However, it was the daring rescue, performed by Station Officer West of the Southwark station that received the public’s acclaim and a bravery medal from the London County Council (LCC).

The Press continued to publish bitter and blistering articles blaming both the LCC and the Brigade for its failings, their focus falling on Capt. Wells himself. In total contrast the Inquest jury exonerated the Metropolitan Fire Brigade and gave unqualified praise to the MFB for their actions at the fire. None of which did anything to appease the Press and their quest to continue to point the finger of blame at Well’s and his Brigade.

(This fire led to the LCC being given powers under the London Building Acts (Amendment) Act 1905 to require building works to be carried out in certain existing buildings to facilitate the safe escape of the occupants in the event of a fire.) 

63-66 Watling Street-Headquarter’s station of the London Salvage corps.
London Salvage Corps crews outside their Watling Street headquarters. Circa 1906.
Chief Officer Fox, of the London Salvage Corps, leaving the Watling Street station. 1920s.
The London Salvage Corps chief, Captain Brymor Eric Miles, M C, was arrested in his Watling Street office. He was later remanded when he appeared in Bow Street Police Court. The case was a sequel to the Leopold Harris fire raising trial. The photo shows the Salvage Corps headquarters, Watling Street, London. 20 November 1933

The Cheapside fire station closed in 1907 on the opening of the new Cannon Street fire station. The London Salvage Corps headquarters, that had occupied Nos 63-64 Watling Street expanded. A new building, covered the site of 63-66 Watling Street, adjoining what had once been the LFEE/MFB headquarters. It retained that site until 1960 when the headquarters relocated to 140 Aldersgate. Its salvage stations were closed and all the salvage tenders operated form the new headquarters.

The LSC plaque remains at the site no 63-65 on the corner of Watling Street with Queen Victoria Street,

The London Salvage Corps were disbanded in April 1984..

Smithfield…The Meat Market Fire, January 1958.

In the early hours of Thursday 23rd January 1958, local firemen arrived at the Smithfield Meat Market. By the time the blaze was finally contained, days later, two members of the London Fire Brigade were dead and a further twenty-six firemen were hospitalised.


On their arrival the fire was discovered to be deep within the basement labyrinth. The crews from Clerkenwell fire station were among the first on site. Station Officer Jack Fort-Wells (47) and Fireman Richard Daniel Stocking (31) would head down into the dense smoke wearing breathing apparatus. Smoke completely filled the extensive basement. Tragically, they would never returned to the surface alive.

After 25 hours, and around 3am on the Friday morning, flames engulfed the ground floor of the Market. The intense heat and flammable gasses erupted from the basement and fire quickly consumed the entire Poultry Market. As the flames reached over 100 feet high it was decided that the fire was too fierce to extinguish and the brigade began focusing their efforts on protecting the surrounding buildings.


The ‘stop’ message was received at 16:45 hrs on Friday 24th January. Over 700 oxygen cylinders had been used by some 400 firemen wearing ‘Proto’ breathing apparatus during the three days of firefighting operations. A total attendance of more than 1700 officers and firemen, with 389 pumps and other appliances attended from 56 of the LCC’s 58 fire stations. This was in addition to some from surrounding fire brigades. The final brigade appliance withdrew from the scene on the 7th February.

The Smithfield meat market building on the morning of the fire. 23rd January 1958.

The original Smithfield Poultry Market was designed by Sir Horace Jones. The London Central (Smithfield) Markets, of which the poultry market was part, consisted of four buildings of almost equal size. They covered an area of around ten acres. Each one some 250 ft by 240 ft. Of particular note were the basements to these buildings which were slightly larger due to them running under the adjacent pavements. The building where the fire originated started was known as The Poultry Market. 


At the time of the fire it was estimated that around 800 tons of poultry, game and meat was stored at the market. The single story buildings were constructed of load bearing brick walls with ornamental towers around 70ft high at the corners and centres of buildings. It had a pitched slate on boarding roof, wired louvers topped the structure. The roof was supported on cast iron columns and beams. None of these beams were protected against fire.


The basement was constructed with a concrete floor. The ground floor, which was about 2ft. thick, was formed from brick arches and covered with 8 inch thick stone slabs. Inside the building the galleries and ground floor were partitioned to form offices and shops. The partitions were built from timber, lath and plaster on timber studwork, breeze blocks rendered with plaster. The basement had been divided into around 90 storage compartments. Many had been divided further into sub-compartments. Whilst some compartments were accessible via doors from basement corridors, others could only be accessed by entering through trapdoors in the ground floor of the market. Access in the basement was further reduced by a railway tunnel which ran diagonally through it. This tunnel was bridged at 2 points using stepped crossovers, but these crossovers had limited headroom.

The basement plan of Smithfield meat market. (The Firefighter Magazine extract.)


Some access to the basement was available by electric lifts within the building and trapdoors which were set in the pavement outside. Further entry to the basement could be made via tunnels that were used to pass refrigerated air use to cool the basement. These tunnels contained heavy insulated doors that formed air locks to help prevent the escape of cold air. One large section of the basement was insulated with slab cork covered with cement, elsewhere the basement was insulated with granulated cork, slab cork or slag wool held in place with timber studwork or match boarding. A large amount of bituminous sheeting was used in conjunction with the insulation.


One London fireman’s story.
Fireman John Bishop had started his career in the London Fire Brigade in February 1949, at the age of 20. He had previously served six years at sea in the Merchant service having joined at just 14 years of age! This red haired young fireman started his days at Clerkenwell, the Divisional headquarters of the former LCC B Division, which cover the City of London and the East End. It was one of four Divisional stations which covered the London Fire Brigade’s 58 stations. It was here he learned his craft alongside war-time firemen and those returning from active duty in WWII serving with the armed forces.


John, or ‘Ginger’ as he was known learnt his craft the hard way; especially after he ended up in hospital for several days after attending a refuse lorry fire in a council yard. By 1954 he was promoted to Leading Fireman and remained at Clerkenwell. It was on the 11th May 1954 that Clerkenwell’s pump-escape and pump were called to a fire at Langley Street, off Covent Garden. It was fate that saved John from possible death and certain serious injury that day. The crews had been called to a five storey warehouse, approximately 45 ft. x 100 ft. packed with crates and market materials. The building had recently been fumigated with a paraffin-based chemical. Whilst two firemen stayed outside to operate the pump seven others, led by Station Officer Frederick Hawkins, went inside to deal with the small fire. Leading Fireman Bishop was detailed to walk around the back of the warehouse as the others entered and climbed the stairs. Suddenly the fumes inside exploded. The resultant shock waves brought the roof down. The shingled roof covering was still reinforced with cobble stones which had been placed on top during the war as protection against incendiary bombs. The whole lot came crashing down burying all those on the stairs. The dead and injured were entombed in tons of debris. Whilst assistance was summoned John and his two colleagues fought desperately to reach their fallen colleagues.

The Langley Street warehouse blaze in 1954. As crews entered the building the roof collapsed with fatal consequences. Station Officer Hawkins and fireman Batt-Rawden were both killed by the fall of debris. Fireman Gadd died later as a result of his injuries. 1954

Station Officer Frederick Hawkins and Fireman, A. E. J. Batt-Rawden died at the scene. Five other firemen were seriously injured. Sub Officer Sidney Peen, Leading Fireman Ernest Datlin and Firemen Kenneth Aylward, Frederick Parr, Richard Daniel Stocking and Charles Gadd were all removed to hospital where Charles Gadd later died from his injuries. Three of the injured required plastic surgery treatment. Leading Fureman John Bishop escaped with bruises.


By January 1958 John Bishop had been promoted to Sub Officer rank. On the 23 January he was the acting Station Officer in charge of the Red Watch at Whitefriars fire station and whose ground adjoined the Smithfield Meat Market complex. The first call to the Brigade was received at 02.18 a.m. It was to a fire at ‘The Union Cold Storage’ premises in Smithfield Street. The Lambeth control room, located in the basement of the Brigade Headquarters, mobilised Clerkenwell’s pump-escape, pump and emergency tender together with Whitefriars pump plus Cannon Street’s turntable ladder. It was evident on arrival that there was fire within the basement. The problem was finding it.

Circa 1958.


Bishop’s crew was the first to arrive at the Smithfield Meat Market fire. He, together with another fireman, were preparing to investigate the thick smoke coming up from the markets basement when Station Officer Jack Fort-Wells from Clerkenwell arrived. As it was Fourt-Wells’s ground, and he was the substantive Station Officer, he immediately took charge. His first objective was to find the extent and seat of the fire. He was aided in his task by having not only firemen using breathing apparatus carried on the two pumps but the special breathing apparatus crew riding his station’s emergency tender. Fourt-Wells not only had difficulty in assessing the extent of the fire, but how to gain an effective access to it. Eight minutes after his arrival, and with no swift resolve in locating the fire, Fourt-Wells sent the first assistance message making pumps four.


Station Officer Fourt-Wells had been taken by an employee to the plant room tunnel. Here he encountered thick smoke. Returning to the surface Fourt-Wells, rigged in his breathing apparatus set, and joined by his emergency tender crew, returned below to investigate further. The BA team entered the tunnel and attempted to locate the source of the smoke. The plant room tunnel was searched but no fire was found. Information was received that the fire could be in the main basement where access to it was secured by a padlocked door. Eventually the crew found the door and were provided with a key. By this time the crew were running low on oxygen. (Of the 5 crew members, one gauge read 10 atmospheres, one gauge read 5 atmospheres and the another gauge was on zero atmospheres.) Three of the firemen left the basement and reported their Station Officer say “leave the door open I‘m just, going to take a look”. Within minutes of the exiting men leaving the basement the alarm was raised as the others had not surfaced. However, due to the complex nature of the basernent, it was almost an hour before the bodies of Station Officer Fourt-Wells and Firefighter Stocking were located and carried out.


John Bishop was interviewed about the fire by Channel 4 Television some years ago. In it he related the early stages of the Smithfield fire;

“When the first pumps arrived, thick acrid smoke was pouring out of the market’s maze of underground tunnels leading to cold storage rooms.”  “With the arrival of senior officers from the B Divisional headquarters at Clerkenwell, Fourt-Wells although in command he and his crew members were in the basement.”

John Bishop recalls the moment; “Clerkenwell’s Station Officer and a fireman had headed down into the dense smoke, never to be seen alive again”. 

Breathing apparatus sets typical of those worn at the Smithfield blaze.


Station Officer Fort-Wells and ET fireman Dick Stocking had entered the fire wearing their Mark IV proto oxygen breathing apparatus sets, sets that their pre-war counterparts had worn in the 1920s. In those early stages, with six BA carrying pumps and two emergency tenders in attendance increasing numbers of firemen, wearing breathing apparatus, were committed to find and attack the blaze. John Bishop and his pump’s crew would be one of scores of teams to enter the Smithfield labyrinth. Again he relates his story;

“It was a maze and we used clapping signals. I was going down the centre and I’d send men down a passageway here and there. You would walk along one step at a time, with the back of your hand in front of you in case you walked into something red-hot, making sure you were not going to fall down a hole. All we could find was passageways with meat packed either side from floor to ceiling. The smoke got thicker – you could eat it; black oily smoke. It was very cold down there and you were cold, even though you were sweating. That was fear.”

Firemen entering the basement of the Smithfield Market that had already cost the lives of two firemen, Station Officer Jack Forte-Wells and Fireman Richard Stocking. 1958


John Bishop would be reunited with his former Clerkenwell workmate, Dick Stocking, for the very last time as he led his Whitefriars crew in search of the two missing men. There was intense activity as the frantic search got underway, but it is highly likely that other lives were saved by the coolness of Assistant Divisional Officer Lloyd (the first senior officer to arrive) who checked the oxygen cylinder contents of each rescuer as they entered into the basement. Even so, many still put their own lives at risk by having less than half of their full cylinder content as they descended below ground.

It was a crew from Manchester Square who located Fourt-Wells. He was found under packages and carcasses of meat not far from their entry point. His mouthpiece was on laying on the floor and he was lifeless. They started to return his body to the surface but were relieved of their gruelling, unenviable, task by other BA firemen.

Bishop, and his team, found Stocking against a blank wall in a dead-end passageway. He showed no signs of life. On his return to the exit Bishop had to hand the task of recovery to other firemen as his own oxygen supply had by now expired but he made it back out. 

For the next 24 hours crews struggled to come to terms with the blaze. The cold January air turned to excessive heat as crew after crew combated the dense smoke and worsening conditions. Such were the arduous, physically punishing, conditions that BA crews could not work for more than 10-15 minutes at a time. Despite the determination of the firemen the complexity of the basement, the manner of its flammable insulation and stored meat products, the intensity of the fire was able to spread through much of the two and a half acre maze of underground passages aided by air-ducts and concealed ceiling voids. The dominance of the fire below ground forced superheated gases and smoke up into the street, heat through which the firemen had to struggle against when bringing jets to bear though some of the pavement openings and external trapdoors.

Station Officer Cliff Colenutt, with colleague Don Burrell, taking a break between their attacks on the basement fire.

Smithfield was a blaze which had robbed the London Fire Brigade of two of its own. It was a Clerkenwell fireman, who knew Fort-Wells that described him as;

“One of the old `smoke eaters’ who would not give up hunting for the seat of a fire…”


Smithfield worker, George Goodwin, was an apprentice butcher working at Smithfield. He worked at a small family butchers at 59 Long Lane. It was situated at the top end of the market and as he arrived for work in the early hours of that Thursday morning already there was a lot of police activity and plenty of fire engines at the Poultry Hall. Smoke was rising from the vents in the walkway outside the market. Long Lane was closed off and the meat carrying lorries were cleared from their positions backed onto the entrances to the market to a place of safety.

A young fireman’s face, that of Brian ‘Bill’ Butler, was captured by a photographer of the national press and was featured in reports of the blaze. (Daily Mirror)

As he watched the situation changed, more and more fire engines arrived. The smoke got thicker and blacker and hung over the market like a cloud. Not recalling exactly when but rumours started to surface that there were a number of firemen hurt, possibly some killed. The meat workers we were kept away from the activities taking place but he wrote how he was “relieved I was not a fireman.”

Crowds of market men, in their long blue or white bloodied smocks, stood watching as the firemen battled with the fire after the tragedy unfolded.

Timeframe of the Smithfield fire.


0218. Call to the Union Cold Store-Smithfield Street. B20 (Clerkenwell) PE. P. ET B36 (Whitefriars) P B35 (Cannon Street) TL
0230. From Station Officer Fourt-Wells. Make pump four. B36 (Whitefriars) PE and B33 (Redcross Street) P plus A4 (Euston) AFS Pump ordered. ADO Lloyd and DO Shawyer attending from B Div HQ (Clerkenwell)
O246. From DO Shawyer. Considerable amount of smoke issuing from basement store, market section. No fire yet. BA men searching.
0253. From DO Shawyer. Second ET required to stand-by.    D61 (Lambeth) ET ordered.
0255. From DO Shawyer. A building of 2 floors and basement, about 300 ft x 300 ft, part of basement alight.
0307. Ex Tele call to Lambeth Control. Fire Charterhouse Street. (DO Shawyer informed.)
0315. From DO Shawyer. Making an entrance at Charterhouse Street. 
0318. From DO Shawyer. Making entry from two different sides of the fire. Smithfield Street and Charterhouse Street. The fire has not yet been located. 4 additional pumps with BA required to stand-by. A4 (Euston) P from Clerkenwell. B32 (Bishopsgate) P from Whitefriars. B27 (Shoreditch) P and D62 (Southwark) P.
0325. From DO Shawyer. Fire located on Charterhouse Street side of incident.
0342. From ACO Cunningham at Smithfield Street make pumps 8. A1 (Manchester Square) P from Clerkenwell. D64 (Old Kent Road) P from Whitefriars. B33 (Redcross Street) PE. B35 (Cannon Street) PE.  Brig HQ (Lambeth) CU. A1 (Manchester Square) HLL.
0347. From ACO Cunningham. 3 emergency lights required. Extent of fire still not known, access being made from all available points.
Deputy Chief Leete mobile to incident.
0356. CU arrived and in control. (R/T 20)
0408. From ACO Cunningham. Make pumps 12. B37 (Holloway) P from Redcross Street. A10 (Kensington) from Clerkenwell. B29 (Burdett Road) from Whitefriars. D66 (Brixton) P from Cannon Street. (*On the make pumps 12; 4 PEs, 13 Ps plus 1 AFS pump would be in attendance.)
0433. From Chief Officer. Order CaV at once with refreshments for 100 men. (D61 Lambeth CaV ordered.)
0448. From Chief Officer. Second ambulance required at Smithfield Market.
0459. From Chief Officer. 10 BA pumps required as relief at 0600hrs. (B21 Islington, B24 Homerton, B26 Bethnal Green, B31 Shadwell, C42 Deptford, C43 East Greenwich, C50 Lewisham, D63 Dockhead, D60 Clapham, A3 Camden Town.)
0500. From Chief Officer. Make ambulances 4.
0507. From the Chief Officer. Fm Stropp removed to hospital.
0514. From the Chief Officer Station Officer Fourt–Wells and Fireman Stocking (B20) overcome by smoke and removed to hospital by ambulance. (They were pronounced dead upon arrival.)

Friday 24th 1645. Stop message sent.

Chief Officer Frederick Delve.

The London Fire Brigade of the late 1950s comprised of only three principal officers; the Chief Officer and his two Assistant Chief Officers (one nominated his deputy). All three remained in constant attendance in excess of 24 hours before either the deputy (Mr Leete) or the ACO (Mr Cunningham) was order to take charge of another major fire in Bermondsey.
Delve was no stranger to major fires. However, the Smithfield fire would prove to be a ‘watershed’ for the Brigade’s breathing apparatus procedures (procedures that had ramifications for the whole UK fire service. For Delve, and his men, Smithfield it would be one of the most difficult breathing apparatus incidents faced in their recent peacetime history. Sadly, Delve a stranger to men dying on his ‘watch. Nine firemen and officers had died in the line of duty since the end of the World War II.


When the Chief Officer first arrived at Smithfield he was greeted by his crews facing thickening smoke and arduous conditions. BA crews were working underground in relays seeking out the fire and attacked it wherever possible. The two emergency BA crews where now situated at both entry points, ready to be committed to seek out colleagues in difficulty or find those who were overdue. Additionally a further emergency crew stood by at the Brigade’s Control Unit, ready to replace the other emergency teams should they be required to enter the basement.

The crews at Smithfield were relived at about four hour intervals plus at the change of watch at 0900 and 1800 hrs on the 23rd. Delve had discovered that his officer’s attempts to get a feel of the layout of the basement were seriously hampered due to the lack of employee knowledge about its layout and locked doors.


Delve consolidated the work of Divisional Officer’s Shawyer and Cunningham. Yet despite all their attempts to direct the extinguishment of the flames, and the tenacity of Delve’s firemen undertaking the task, (a task which had them working in the most challenging of conditions) the fire was gaining a firm hold. It was spreading throughout the basement. Such were the conditions during the morning of the 23rd crews had to be withdrawn from the Charterhouse Street entrance. All efforts were now concentrated on the West Smithfield tunnel entrance. With day shift (Blue Watch crews) now fully engaged, attempts were made to create fire breaks in the flammable insulation by teams of firemen. Large areas were painstakingly cut away from the basement walls and ceiling. This was all to no avail as the fire continued on its path of destruction.


Flooding the basement was attempted and water was applied from every possible vantage point. The Chief later reported that 500,000 gallons an hour was being pumped into the basement. (Individual pump capacity in 1958 was in the range of 500-750 gpm.) However, the drains disposed of the water before it could make any significant impact on the fire. Later the flooding was abandoned as large quantities of water was penetrating nearby underground railway tunnels.

Still with no noticeable effect from the previous firefighting efforts, by the late afternoon of the 23rd Delve chose to push the fire back from the Charterhouse Street side towards the lift shaft in West Smithfield from where, it was hoped, the fire would vent itself. The attack was made by fresh crews who inched their way into the basement. By this point the heat was so great that crews could not work for more than 10-15 minutes. Even then many were overcome by the heat. They were assisted, or carried, towards the entry point by colleagues. Colleagues who were themselves affected by the heat. Semi-collapsed firemen had to be hauled up the lift shaft by line before being removed to St Bart’s hospital by ambulance. Yet, despite the attrition rate of his firemen Delve pushed on with these tactics to advance the attack on the fire. However, as the heat and conditions below ground grew ever more severe the attackers were slowly forced back. Finally, Delve withdrew his men before they were overwhelmed entirely.


As night fell, and the Red Watch firemen returned to the scene, it was hoped that the thickness of the ground floor, at almost 3 feet, would contain the fire. It proved not to be the case. Late on Thursday evening the first breach in the ground floor became evident. Jets positioned to contain the fire spread proved ineffectual. In the early hours of Friday morning parts of the ground floor collapsed allowing for a massive escape of superheated gases and flame to spread upwards. Crews working inside the Market building were withdrawn. The intensity of the fire was such that the cast-iron columns lost their structural integrity raising fears of the collapse of the roof, which later transpired.

Radial branches, large powerful ground jets, had to be deployed to deliver water to the heart of the massive blaze.

Delve, in anticipation of such developments had previously ordered radial branches to the scene. It remains highly probable that at this point in excess of 20 pumps were actively engaged in containing the fire to the Poultry Market despite pumps not being increased beyond 12!


As the fire let forth its full ferocity it rabidly consumed all before it. It was fuelled by the insulated match boarding wood, wool, bituminous tar which had become deeply contaminated and impregnated with animal fats through the years of lack of service and maintenance. The physics of the now rapidly spreading fire was aided by the fact that the ground floor had a smaller footprint than that of the basement below it. Therefore, it acted as a chimney allowing the furnace like temperatures to overwhelm the firemen’s attempts to contain it.

Again, Delve was forced to withdraw his crews and they had to surround the blaze. There was no saving the Poultry Market. In the darkness of that January morning the ornate corner distinctive towers collapsed in spectacular fashion, the falling balls of flame adding to the pyre below.


At its height the 13 jets and 12 radial branches, fed by 10 pumps and supplied by 18 street hydrants, were throwing 16,000 gallons of water per minute onto the blaze. It was left to the day watch to see the blaze subdued, not least because it had consumed all the available fuel. It was late afternoon that the STOP message was finally sent. Then the more mundane activity of damping down and eliminating hot spots started. The Brigade would remain at the scene in ever decreasing numbers until the 7th February.  It was during ‘damping down’ that Fireman Handey (Bishopsgate) suffered serious injuries when he fell through the floor into the basement.

The Lambeth control room staff had not only handled the challenging Smithfield fire in the period 23rd -25th January but also mobilised the Brigade to a further 259 separate incidents. In addition the Brigade dealt with 7 four pump fires, 1 six pump fire, plus an eight pump fire on the 24th in an office block in Southwark Street. This was followed by a fifteen pump at a Jam factory in Rouel Road, Bermondsey and a further twenty pump fire in the early hours of the 25th in a rubber dump/derelict warehouse, Poplar  High Street, East London. Here both the West Ham and Essex fire brigades had to come to the aid of their London colleagues. 

The aftermath. 
The City of London Inquest was open and adjourned on the 24 January. The Coroner, Mr J, Milner-Holme. MA. approving the funerals of Jack Fourt-Wells and Richard Stocking.


The funeral procession of the two Clerkenwell men took place on the 30th January. Station Officer Jack Fourt-Wells and Fireman Richard Stocking were each carried on a wreath laden turntable ladder. Leaving Clerkenwell fire station with its honour guard the fire engines bearing the men’s’ flagged draped coffins led the cortège through the Smithfield Meat Market before moving on the South London Crematorium at Streatham passing the Brigade Headquarters with it honour guard en-route. The men’s funeral service was conducted by the Rev. D.F.Strudwick, himself a serving London AFS fireman.

The aftermath of the Smithfield fire.


The full inquest of the two men took place on the 28th February and lasted two and half days. Mrs Fourt-Wells’s interests being represented by Andrew Phelen QC on behalf of the Fire Officer Association. Mrs Stocking by Rose Heibron QC on behalf of the Fire Brigade Union and Mr Davis QC representing the London County Council. Rose Heilbron QC. was a legal pioneer in post war Britain. She practised mainly in personal injury and criminal law and was the second woman to be appointed a High Court judge. But in February 1958, at the request of the Fire Brigade Union solicitors, she looked after the interests of the Stocking family. Both Fourt-Wells and Stocking where found to have died from asphyxia due to the inhalation of fire fumes (carbon monoxide poisoning) when trapped in the unventilated maze of underground chambers below Smithfield. Issues arose as to whether the men had proper supervision. Rose Heilbron placed both Brigade’s officers, including Delve, and the world renowned pathologist, Dr Keith Simpson, under detailed technical questioning. She left no stone unturned.

Rose Heilbron. QC.

The jury returned verdicts of ‘misadventure’ on the two deaths. The Coroner recommended the adoption of an automatic warning device designed to be fitted to the breathing apparatus set which would sound when the oxygen was running low. The Coroner did not wish to look into the origin of fire and the cause of the blaze was never ascertained. In his recommendations he also requested the installations of a ‘dry’ sprinkler system installation in similar locations. Finally he also required that a low cylinder warning device should be attached to BA sets and further recommended that the LFB do so in a timescale of 2-3 weeks. 

Breathing apparatus procedures.
Following Smithfield reports were submitted the Fire Brigade Committee of the London County Council by Delve. Once again lessons were to be learned. Some of the problems which occurred at Smithfield, regarding BA procedures, had occurred at two previous fires at Covent Garden. Although a local (LFB) procedure was set up by 1956 following the second fatal Covent Garden Fire. This involved the provision of a BA Control Point. At Smithfield this was in Charterhouse Lane to record the entry of men wearing BA into the incident. The Control Point consisted of no more than blackboard and chalk. It recorded: Name, Station/location, Time of entry and Time due out.

The blaze, at the premises of Smithfield; Union Cold Storage Co, burned for three days in the centuries-old laby rinth before it eventually collapsed. Picture taken: 23rd January 1958 showing the recording of breathing apparatus crews.

At Smithfield this procedure proved invaluable. It indicated, later, in the incident that two men were missing and overdue. However, following the tragic loss of life at Smithfield there were concerted calls for a more comprehensive schedule of BA procedures to be formulated. These calls came from Delve, Leete, his Deputy, and Mr John Horner, General Secretary of the Fire Brigades Union. Later that same year Fire Service Circular (FSC) 37/1958 was issued. It detailed the findings of the Committee of Inquiry and recommended the following:- Tallies for BA sets; A Stage I and Stage II control procedure for recording & supervising BA wearers: The duties of a control operator: The procedure to be followed by crews: A main control procedure.


In the accompanying letter to the circular Brigades were requested to report their observations and recommendations in light of experience by the end of November 1959. There was at the time no specifications for the design and use of guide or personnel lines. It was considered that more experience had to be gained! Recommendations were, however, made in respect of a specification for a low cylinder pressure warning device and a distress signal device.


Finally, and in light of the views of Fire Brigades following Smithfield and based on their own experiences, it was clear that the use of BA would require more men to be better trained in its use and the safety procedures. Subsequent guidance on the selection of BA wearers was provided in FSC 32/1960 after agreement at the Central Fire Brigades Advisory Council on 27 July 1960. It recommended:-18 months operational service before BA training. A possible age limit for wearers. Standards of fitness. Two BA wearers per appliance equipped with BA.


Finally.
A special word of thanks to Dave Goldsmith for sharing some of his extensive archive material in the completion of this narrative. Other information has been taken directly from to documents held at the Metropolitan Archives FB/GEN/2/124 Fire at Poultry Market, Central Markets Smithfield E.C.1 – 23/1/58″.


The incident remains listed as a 12 pump fire! However the early attendance on the 23rd lists 18 pumping appliance (inc 1 AFS pump) plus specials. It was possibly a cultural thing back then, requesting additional appliances rather than making up? It was common pactice in the 1950s and 60s for senior/principal officers to request additional pumps to stand-by at the Control Unit then use them, especially in protracted BA operations. 10-12 pumps fire with twice as many machines in attendance  was not without precedent in the LFB.

It also appears the Smithfield records are incomplete. Sight of the original fire report for Smithfield could clarify some these discrepancies. The LCC/LFB classifies the incident as a 20 pump make-up, which given the statement of Delve to the Coroner and the LCC’s Fire Brigade Committee supports this view. His own figures provides for an average attendance of 20 pumps at 3-4 hourly intervals over the 23rd to the 24th. The 13 jets and 12 radial branches used required the attendance of more than the official ‘12 pumps’ to deliver that amount of water.

Lastly, it was stated, anecdotally, that at one point that smoke from the Smithfield fire travelled through the catacombs into the basement of St Bart’s and the hospital authorities even considered evacuation. However, this was not mentioned in any LFB reports.

Lest we forget.


There were errors made at Smithfield, but they have to be set in the context of excepted practices of the time. As tragic as the deaths were the sacrifice was not in vain. Lessons were learnt. They helped developed better BA procedures. It remains both unfortunate and regrettable that it took their deaths to bring about such change.

End.




A Christmas Tragedy-Incident at St John’s.

The evening rush hour of Wednesday 4 December 1957 was a very foggy one. If she had not been seven months pregnant at the time, my sister would surely have died on 4 December 1957. As long as I could remember my sister was always in a hurry, always running when others chose to walk. Why stroll to the station when a last minute dash would achieve the objective? Such was the case on that fateful, cold and murky day when most of London lay shrouded in one of those distinctive yellowish fogs that preceded the dawning of the smokeless-zone age.

My sister worked as a receptionist for a London advertis­ing agency just off the Strand. Her lunchtime had been spent dashing, as usual, from shop to shop searching for and buying Christmas presents. There was an added dimension to her urgency since it was to be her last Christmas at work and she planned to buy gifts for close colleagues as a farewell gesture. The baby, her first, was due in February.

Her regular train home to the south London suburbs was the 5.18 p.m. electric service from Charing Cross to Hayes in Kent, which she would board at Waterloo (now Waterloo East). Her breathless arrival on the platform invariably coincided with the train’s imminent departure which meant standing room only in one of the last two carriages before the throng of commut­ers thinned out as the train made staccato progress to its final destination.

Clutching an assortment of bags and parcels my sister was, as usual, late leaving the agency building in Brettenham Place. The fog was thick enough to blanket the view of the vast Shell Building, which then dwarfed Waterloo Station, from the north side of the bridge. Five minutes would normally have been enough time for my unencumbered sister to catch her train. Now, weighed down with her unborn son and her clutch of parcels, she lost the race. It was to be the saving of her life. She arrived breathless on the platform just to see the red tail light of her train vanishing rapidly into the foggy gloom towards London Bridge. Her long wait on the cold platform at Waterloo began.

The fog had disrupted the British Rail train services. Not severely, but enough to throw the already hectic rush hour timetable into disarray. Particularly badly hit were the longer distance commuter trains to and from the Kent coast, which in those days were hauled by stream locomotives. Lacking the acceleration of the electric trains the steam engines found it virtually impossible to regain time lost through a series of signal checks which accompanied the fog.

The steam express locomotive ‘Spitfire’ was barely ten years old and capable of hauling the coastal trains with consum­mate ease. It was scheduled to pull the 4.56 p.m. service from Cannon Street to Ramsgate. Already arriving late in London on the inward journey the steam engine was well behind on the days schedule when it reversed onto the carriages waiting at Cannon Street. There was no time for the engine’s fireman to fill up the tender with water. The crew were told to take on water at Sevenoaks, the first scheduled stop. With no sign of the thick fog lifting Spitfire got under way from Cannon Street, easing slowly round the curve into London Bridge and then off across the viaducts of Bermondsey towards New Cross.

Some two miles ahead of Spitfire, the Hayes electric train had set off again, through the murk, after a stop at New Cross. This train was not booked to stop at Lewisham and after passing through St John’s station it was switched to the down main line. It would follow this for a short distance, before veering off at Parks Bridge Junction to regain the Hayes line, just before Ladywell station. A red light brought the Hayes train to a halt on the main line just before the junction.

With its brakes applied fully, to counteract a slight incline, the ten-carriage Hayes train trailed back to a point where its two rear coaches stood beneath an overbridge that carried the railway line from Nunhead to Lewisham. The scene was now set for a tragedy.

Despite the poor visibility the crew of the Spitfire had built up speed on the long, straight run from London Bridge to New Cross where it passed through the station at something like 40mph. For many years this stretch of line had been equipped with multi-coloured signalling, in theory, was far easier for a train driver to read that the conventional semaphore signals that were mounted on posts or gantries. Tragically the driver of Spitfire powered his train, first, past a double yellow signal light, and then a yellow signal. This should have warned him that the next signal would be RED and require him to bring his train to a standstill. Instead only after Spitfire, the Ramsgate express, had passed the red signal at St John’s was there a brake application. It was too late.

Spitfire and its train, several hundred tons all told, ploughed into the back of the still stationary Hayes train. The force of the impact was catastrophic and deadly. With its brakes on, the Hayes train offered a dead weight resistance. Its rear carriages were smashed beyond all recognition. The leading coaches of the Ramsgate train buckled and the locomotive hit the pillars supporting the overbridge with such force it caused the struc­ture to collapse on the wreckage below.

London firemen, medical teams and ambulance crews struggle to release the casualties and extricate the dead.

The one glimmer of fortune to shine on an evening of carnage came moments later when the driver of the train approaching on the line from Nunhead, that would take him over the bridge towards Lewisham, saw through the fog that the line suddenly disappear in front of him. Applying the brakes for an emergency stop he brought the train to a jolting halt just yards from the precipice where only minutes before the bridge had been. An even worse disaster had been averted by only the narrowest of margins.

A characteristic of fog is that it muffles sound. Residents from nearby streets would later recall hearing only a ‘dull thud’ at the moment of impact. Fortunately some who had telephones had the presence of mind to realise that something had happened and summoned the emergency services. Others scrambled up the embankments flanking the lines to see what could be done. The driver of the Hayes Train which had been catapulted forwards by the collision, staggered from his cabin to the signal box at Parks Bridge Junction to report the crash. He found that the signalman had already set all the signals under his control to red.

In 1957 ‘major accident procedure’ did not exist. But it was very apparent to the three emergency services that the crash was of catastrophic proportions. Access to the crash site was extremely difficult. It could only be made, initially, by means of an extension ladder pitched, to form a bridge, from the roof of an appliance to the top of a 12ft high brick wall. Also a steep embankment had to be negotiated to reach the permanent way.

The sight that met the first fire engine crews from Lewisham, and then surrounding fire stations, was almost impossible to comprehend. The impact had thrown many passengers from the trains and they were lying, some already dead and others with life-threatening injuries, on both the permanent way and the embankment. The death toll was the most severe, however, in the rear coaches of the Hayes train. These had been packed to ‘standing room only’ capacity. Miraculously, some passen­gers in this part of the train had survived the crash itself but now lay entombed in the midst of the entangled remnants of the carriages.

Emergency tender crews were to the fore – there were only two then in the London Fire Brigade – and set about the task of extracting the trapped and moving away the bodies of the dead. Alongside London’s firemen, doctors and nurses also moved among the injured administering morphine to those in pain.

The Brigade control unit, from Lambeth, was located in the adjacent Thurston Road, and four advanced control points were established around the scene of the wreck making use of the walkie-talkie equipment. Extra cutting equipment was brought in as rescue work continued through the evening and into the night.

The cold, grey light of dawn revealed the true scale of the disaster. It was as if a giant had plucked the trains from the track, crumpled them in a rage and hurled them back to the ground. The last remaining bodies were removed to a make­shift mortuary at Lewisham Hospital. Grim faced police offic­ers gathered up the array of personal belongings that littered the scene whilst British Railway workman busied themselves with the task of shoring-up the overhanging sides of the overbridge.

The death toll was initially ‘officially’ listed as 90, although subsequent records would show a slightly higher number due to the victims who succumbed to their injuries.

The morning of the 5th December and the full horror of the impact of the crash was evident.

The communities of Hayes, West Wickham, Elmers End and Eden Park, where my family lived, were hard hit by the tragedy and as a schoolboy I recall the seemingly endless processions to the local crematorium. We all seemed to know at least one family affected by the crash. The inevitable inquiry into the ‘Railway Accident at St John’s’, not Lewisham as it was, found that the colour light signals had been installed at a time when most locomotives were right-hand drive. Conversely Spitfire was driven from the left-hand side which, coupled with the length of the engine’s boiler, made the sighting of the signal less easy. However, the point was made that given the weather conditions the train driver should have asked the fireman to assist with the observation of the warning signals from the right-hand side of the cab. Comment was also made on the pre-war, WWII, rolling stock of the electric train, which offered little protection to passengers on impact.

The officiaL inquiry concluded that the sole blame for the accident rested with the driver of the Ramsgate train. Yet public opinion was divided when the decision was made to charge him with manslaughter. Many felt that little could be gained from prosecuting a man who was never going to wipe from his memory the event of that fateful day. A broken man, he died within a few years.

(First published by Gordon White (RIP). Gordon was the editor of the London Fire Brigade’s in-house magazine London Fireman. He died in January 2016.)