Screams, debris, then silence

It lasted all afternoon and into the night.

Scores of rescuers worked tirelessly amid the rubble of the Stockline Plastics factory, in Maryhill, Glasgow, but they did so without a sound.

They knew many people were trapped below. But they also knew that the slightest noise could trigger a further disaster.

The building, or what remained of it, was dangerously unstable. Not only the trapped, but also the rescuers were at risk.

Contact had been made with at least one man and one woman on their mobile phones.

It was quickly established that the trapped were grouped in four little pockets under the rubble. The rescuers, working slowly, methodically, operated in six small units, each one close to where it was thought the victims were located.

Strathclyde Firemaster Brian Sweeney, in overall control of the operation, confirmed that they expected to be working on the rescue for 48 hours or more.

"Some of those trapped have been remarkably calm while others are obviously distressed and injured," he said.

After the initial emergency, when more than 200 firefighters and dozens of ambulances and fire engines had arrived at the scene, those in charge deliberately scaled down the operation and retained only the minimum numbers.

Those who were left used all the paraphernalia of modern rescue science; audio equipment to listen for the slightest sound and heat-seeking cameras to pinpoint the precise spot where people were trapped.

The scene itself looked like the aftermath of an earthquake.

Late yesterday afternoon an RAF Sea King rescue helicopter from Leconfield, in East Yorkshire, ferried specialist dog teams and their handlers to the disaster site. The crew first flew to a base in Lincoln to pick up three dogs and their specialist handlers and arrived in Glasgow at 7.30pm.

On the scene too was a team from International Rescue, the Grangemouth group which specialises in major disaster work, especially the rescue of people from earthquake damaged buildings.

Dogs burrowed through the rubble for hours to detect further signs of life.

Neil Galbraith, a brigade chaplain with Strathclyde Fire said: "These international rescue dogs are burrowing through the rubble and will never give up.

"What you're seeing here is the fire brigade at its very best. All the services are working together and the families should know that we are trying as hard as we can."

The scale of the task was clear. At noon yesterday the ageing four-storey building, housing ICL Technical and its sister company, Stockline Plastics, had collapsed in an instant. The roof enveloped the rubble like a shroud.

Below it was a massive pile of cracked concrete, broken brick, and fractured timber. Below that were the victims.

David Andrews, 50, who was working inside the factory when the explosion ripped it apart, was able to escape unscathed. But he feared for the safety of his colleagues still trapped inside.

"The whole lot just came down on top of them," he said.

Another survivor spoke about his management colleagues who, he feared, had been trapped in the debris.

Danny Gilmour said: "My boss is still in there. He was holding a meeting in the conference room upstairs."

His head patched and bleeding, Mr Gilmour added: "There was just this massive explosion and everything went pitch black and we just couldn't see a thing. I saw the hole in the wall and climbed up. It was like four floors had fallen."

It appeared most of the trapped victims were members of the senior management team from ICL, ten of whom had been attending a meeting on the top floor of the building when the explosion occurred.

Among the directors of the company is J Stewart McCall. His daughter, Sheena, is ICL's sales manager. It was not immediately apparent if the two were among those trapped.

Almost three hours after the building collapsed, a group of six helmeted rescuers gently carried the first stretchered victim from the rubble. It was a man and, although badly injured, he was alive.

Over the next few hours further casualties were carried out, badly injured but alive.

Their rescuers were buoyed by the lives that were being saved.

As well as the professional rescuers there were amateur heroes too, ordinary people who, without thought for their own safety, had rushed to help in the vital minutes after the explosion.

Gerry McGuinness, a 44-year-old technician who was working at the nearby Dentec dental lab, said: "I just heard a massive explosion. It was really loud, it sounded like a bomb going off. We ran up and started taking some of the bricks away.

"There were four guys and one girl trapped under the rubble. We couldn't see them but they were screaming at us for us to help them."

The streets around the disaster scene were sealed off to ensure that a fleet of ambulances could take the most urgent cases to hospital without delay. An emergency triage team treated the walking wounded on the pavements beyond the debris.

Firemen with blackened faces were perched precariously on the pile of rubble, slowly sifting through the brick and plaster.

One person was stretchered from the scene to an ambulance surrounded by medics with possibly a friend or colleague in tears holding a drip.

Another man was in tears as he spoke to police at the site, telling them his niece worked at ICL.

He was ushered to the factory gates where the emergency services were assisting distraught friends and relatives.

A fleet of employees' cars sat in front of the destroyed factory covered in a thick brown dust and with bricks piled on their roofs. Some remained there last night.