First responders share horror over July 7 atrocities

Leader Live

17 hours ago

Superintendent Anna Bearman was a 23-year-old police constable on the Metropolitan Police response team when the suicide bombing attacks took place on three London Underground trains and bus.
At first, she and her three colleagues were told that there was an incident at King's Cross, possibly related to a fire.
But Ms Bearman said she remembers the feeling of a 'pinch' in her stomach when she realised the situation was much more sinister.
She said: 'On July 7, it was a nice summer's morning and everyone was elated because we had just won the bid for the London Olympics the day before.
'We were on duty and heard that there was confusion at King's Cross and that perhaps there'd been a fire, so we made our way down to the train station.
'As we were by Euston station, we were asked to divert to Russell Square, and we were told that there were injured people fleeing both stations.
'I remember that being the moment when I thought that it wasn't a fire and it was something more sinister. It was a pinch in the stomach moment.'
Ms Bearman described how the four constables in the vehicle fell silent, as it dawned on them that it was a major incident.
Upon arrival, they saw dozens of people running out of Russell Square station, with many suffering from injuries.
She said: 'There were walking wounded and a sense of hysteria and panic, but we couldn't stop and speak to them because we had to get into the tunnel to help those who couldn't walk out.
'We walked about a mile on the tracks and then we carried one person out who had lost a lower limb, as there were no stretchers, and we took them out a mile back to Russell Square.'
After carrying a second injured person out and returning to the train for a third time, they were told there were no more people who needed to be rescued, and they turned to finding oxygen tanks for the injured in the makeshift triage area.
Ms Bearman recalls: 'After that, the main task was directing and reassuring members of the public, trying to keep them calm in the moment.
'Later on, I saw that my trousers and my legs were absolutely blood-stained, and that was when the shock of the whole day set in.
'The 20-year anniversary is really important to remember the people who have been affected, the lives lost but also their families and loved ones.'
Dr Peter Holden, a GP from Derbyshire, was 50 when the bombings took place.
He was not supposed to be in London on July 7, but, in his role as deputy chairman of the BMA GP committee, he was called to a meeting with a government minister at BMA House in Tavistock Square.
That was where a fourth device exploded on a bus that had been diverted after the attacks on Aldgate, Edgware Road and Russell Square Tube stations.
Dr Holden, who had received major incident training and helped dozens of people on the day, recalls: 'I realised it was really serious when the Royal London helicopter was hovering overhead for a considerable length of time.
'And then I just turned around to my colleague Mary Church, who's the chair of the committee, we heard a bang and then everything just went salmon pink.
'It was something that shook the ground. We were three floors above where the bomb on the bus went off and we looked out of the window and there was a white plume of smoke and the tree canopy had gone.
'When I got downstairs, there were people being brought in on collapsible table tops used for conferences as makeshift stretchers.'
As someone with emergency care training, Dr Holden recalls directing 15 doctors and setting up a makeshift triage area .
He remains proud of the effort his team made in the crisis, despite having to make difficult decisions surrounding who to prioritise in the moment.
Dr Holden said: 'There was a complete range of people – there were Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, those of no particular faith.
'I think there were eight different nationalities from all over the world – medicine is really an international practice.
'But we had to leave two people who we describe as P1 expectants, those who are deeply unconscious and for whom medical care is extremely unlikely to help, and you just have to leave them with another human being so they are not on their own.
'It was the most difficult decision of my life and it still haunts me, because there's a humanity in delivering care.
'It was a terrible day, but I was thankful that I was there and could help people.'