Teenage survivor of Easington Colliery disaster recalls fateful day

THE FIRST sign of anything amiss was a telephone ringing incessantly, Bill Burns recalls.

“It was one of those old-fashioned phones. Whoever was calling was turning the handle furiously to get an answer.

“But no one replied. Our overman was telling us to report to a coal face half an hour away.”

Two days after celebrating his 18th birthday, Bill was possibly the youngest miner working the coalface in Easington Colliery, east Durham, at 4.20am on that fateful day - Tuesday May 29, 1951.

Little did anyone know the call was frantic bid by a wagonway man to warn the new shift of a terrible tragedy that was unfolding in the seam above them.

The blast 900 foot below ground came as the fore shift and back shift changed over in the Duck Bill area of the Five Quarter Seam.

Sparks from cutting machinery had ignited firedamp, bringing down 120 yards of roof and sending a fireball searing through 16,000 yards of workings.

The disaster was to claim the lives of 81 miners and two rescuers.

Still oblivious to what had happened, Bill was making his way to the coal face when he was met by a deputy coming from the opposite direction, who instructed him: “Son turn around and get back to the (meeting place at) Tenth North.”

Bill says: “ As I made the way back I smelled what I thought was burnt rice.

“There was no panic, though I thought if the reason for leaving the mine was gas the quicker we got going the better.

“I ran, while others who were older hurried as quickly as they could. No one had a clue what was happening.

“I later realised the smell I had noticed was that of burning flesh.”

On arrival at the Hutton Seam, awaiting him was a set – made up of coal tubs.

“I jumped into a tub which was overcrowded sat on the knee of miner. It turned out it was my father, who was on an earlier shift.”

Bill bursts into tears, weeping openly as he recalls his father putting both hands on his shoulders and saying: “Hullo my son you’ve made it then.”

“I knew then that something serious had happened,” he adds.

The extent of the tragedy only started emerging as they got to the surface.

Bill says: “We were told to go to pithead baths as there had been an explosion.

“People were shock. Absolute shock. Nearly everybody was frozen. The look on their faces was of “my God what has happened”.

“We all knew each other and the immediate thought was, who was involved? Was it a brother, father or friend?

“We knew there would be fatalities. There was quietness about the place.

“I wanted to go down and help, but because I was so young I was refused. So I spent hours wandering around with everyone trying to make sense of it all.”

Bill recalls standing on roof of the pithead baths a day later watching a steady progression of shrouded bodies being carried out.

He says: “I can still see it. It is etched mind. I’ll never forget.

“One of my best mates Matty Williams was the only one that was rescued alive, but he died later of terrible burns. We were in class together and trained together.

“His twin brother George survived the blast.

“It was the luck of draw that I was on a different shift.”

Bill’s says his father John Burn, who worked in the mine from the age of 14 to 65, later died of lung disease caused by coal dust.

Bill remained in the mines for three years, before applying to join the navy. By a quirk of fate his call-up papers arrived on the anniversary of the disaster.

Having begun his working life underground, he went on to spend more than seven years under the sea as a submariner – playing cat-and-mouse with the Soviets at the height of the Cold War.

He says: “It wasn’t something I had planned to do, but because I had been a miner they probably thought I would have some experience in solitude.

“The extra crown I would earn a day for doing it was the deciding factor.”

Bill of Chester-le-Street, County Durham, went on to become a manager with Northern Foods. He is married to Una has three children, four grandchildren, and one great-grandchild Lily.

As he talks of the next generation his thoughts go back to that awful chapter in his life.

Bill recalls a community wracked with grief at the funerals.

He says: “I remember standing on the side of the road watching the coffins go by. Everyone was in tears. No one was untouched. It affected people for weeks, months and even years afterwards.

“It still makes me feel emotional.”

But life had to go on and within about a month the men were called for work.

Bill says: “The attitude was that “we have to get on with it. This is your job – where you earn your money”.

“So you carry on regardless. Put it at the back of your mind. It was difficult but you did it.”