At around 6:49am on the 22nd of May
1915 a fully-loaded troop train was passing close to Gretna Green in
Scotland.
The train was bound for Liverpool, where its passengers (mostly soldiers of the
7th Battalion of the Royal Scots) would be loaded onto
ships and sent onwards to Gallipoli, where they
expected to encounter challenging conditions
and fierce fighting against Ottoman forces.
Little did the men on board realize, however, that the vast majority of them
would never make it beyond Gretna Green. The train on which they travelled was
about to become part of one of the worst rail disasters of
all time.
The declaration of war in 1914 made the movement of freight and troops
of paramount importance to Britain. So vital were the railways, indeed, that
the government immediately seized control of most of
them and pressed into service every car they could get their hands on,
including old rolling stock that had been given up for scrap in
previous years. New wagons were built quickly and
cheaply to keep Britain moving.
The flow of these wagons and the engines which pulled them was controlled by
signalman in signal boxes situated at every vital
junction and crossing. By pulling levers these men could switch
points to direct trains from one track to another
and activate signals which would instruct trains to proceed,
wait in a siding, or reverse as necessary.
The signal box closest to Gretna Green was the Quintinshill signal box.
Although usually manned by only a single signalman
there were actually two present at the time of the disaster.
George Meakin was the night signalman. After being relieved by his day shift
colleague James Tinsley he hung around in the box reading a
newspaper while Tinsley set himself up for the day.
This handover also happened later than was scheduled.
Technically Meakin should have handed over to Tinsley at 6:00am...
but there was an informal agreement in place between day and night signalman
whereby the night signalman on duty would often work
up to half an hour late so that the day signalmen
that would relieve them wouldn't have to get up so early. Thus it was actually 6:30am when Tinsley arrived and took control of
the box. This half-hour difference seemed of
little consequence to the signalman themselves,
but it would be one contributing factor in what happened next.
Tinsley would be controlling a relatively simple section of track.
It consisted of two lines one running towards Carlisle,
which was referred to as the "up" line, and one running towards Glasgow,
which was referred to as the "down" line. Each of these lines also had a siding.
This would allow slow trains to pull off the main track
and allow faster express trains to bypass them
and get underway. It was also possible to move trains between the up
line and the down line using a connecting section of track.
At the time of the disaster the siding on the down line
was occupied by a parked goods train. A local train on the down line needed to
move aside so that an express train could get by.
Night signalman Meakin was well aware that it couldn't pull into the occupied
siding, and so instead he had it reverse from
the down line onto the up line. This freed up the down
line and let the express train get past... but
left that local train parked on the up line.
A train consisting of empty coal wagons was waiting to use that up line.
Meakin, still in control of the situation, sent that train
into the siding and ordered it to wait there.
It was at this point that Tinsley took control of the box
and ushered through one express train that was waiting on the down line.
As the down line was clear this train passed through without incident.
Then, seemingly forgetting about the local train parked on the up line,
Tinsley signaled to a troop train waiting to pass through the up line
that it was clear to proceed.
This moment of absent-mindedness is all the more alarming
given that Tinsley arrived for his shift that day
riding on board that local train. He had only hopped off the engine
minutes before. Now its presence completely slipped his
mind.
The troop train surged along the up line and,
with a thunderous crash, smashed into the local train,
sending several of its cars spilling from the track.
Many were injured and killed by this collision, but the situation was still to
worsen. Another express train was already
inbound on the down line. It was too late for the signalman to
stop it. The express train entered the down line, plowed into the
scattered wreckage, and itself derailed.
Now there were three trains smashed together and scattered across
the tracks. Dozens of people lay dead, some of them hit by the express train
after having evacuated the troop train and local train.
Many more were injured or trapped in the wreckage... but still
the worst was yet to come. The rickety troop train - pressed into
service specifically for the war effort - was built from cheap wood and lit by
gas-powered lanterns. These swiftly started a fire which swept
hungrily through the wreckage, consuming those who had survived the
collision.
Rescuers worked frantically to free their friends and fellow soldiers from
the wreck, but in many cases it was simply
impossible. There wasn't time to do so before the
smoke and flames reached them. There are many stories of impromptu
amputations that were carried out on the spot to free trapped soldiers.
Witnesses also report that, where rescue was impossible
and flames were approaching, officers shot their own men
in order to spare them the pain of burning alive.
Doctors and firefighters from Gretna Green soon arrived at the site of the
collision. They were met with an apocalyptic scene
of death and destruction. Over 200 people had died in the space of
mere minutes, and the fires which burned
through the wreckage raged for an entire day. Every single wagon -
apart from six which had detached at the moment of collision
and rolled back along the track - was entirely consumed
and every ounce of coal on board the train was burned up
by the flames.
The vast majority of casualties were from those on board the troop train.
226 people died in the collision, and 215 of them were soldiers.
These numbers are, it should be noted, approximate:
the fire was so intense that some bodies could not be identified,
and some were entirely cremated by the flames.
Taking into account both deaths and injuries,
the 7th battalion was left utterly devastated.
Approximately half of the entire unit had been on board the train:
498 soldiers. Only 62 of those arrived in Liverpool
unscathed. Given the trauma that they had endured,
and the depletion in their numbers, the men were sent straight back to
Edinburgh, with only a handful of ranking officers required to board a ship
and sail for the front.
Most of the dead had come from the town of Leith.
It was said that there was not a single household in that community
who did not know at least one of the dead.
This emotional shock was no doubt compounded by the fact that
so few bodies could be positively identified.
The majority of the dead was simply too badly burned.
A funeral procession through Leith carried the bodies to their final
resting place: Rosebank Cemetery.
Thousands of soldiers and civilians lined the route in order to pay their
respects to the dead, who were then interred in a mass grave.
Even as the bodies were being buried an investigation was launched.
Its findings were decisive: the fault lay with the two signalmen, Meakin and Tinsley.
They came under fire for the unofficial tweaks they had made to their shift
schedule. It was perfectly common for the night
signalman on duty to work half an hour late
to save the day signalman from getting up too early,
but it certainly wasn't officially allowed.
To avoid getting into trouble Meakin wrote down his notes for the extra half
hour he worked on a piece of scrap paper so that
Tinsley, when he eventually did arrive, could copy
them out into the logbook in his own handwriting, making it seem as
though he'd arrived at exactly the right time.
Thus, when Tinsley should have been concentrating on the complex situation
on the train lines, he was actually more focused on updating
the logbook to ensure that he didn't get into
trouble for sleeping late. This distraction might have contributed to
him forgetting the presence of a train on the upline - the most egregious error
which contributed to the disaster. But Tinsley alone wasn't to blame.
During his shift Meakin had also neglected to place a safety collar on
one of the signals. The collar would have physically
prevented Tinsley from giving an incorrect signal.
The two men were found guilty of culpable manslaughter.
Meakin was sentenced to 18 months in prison,
while Tinsley was given three years with hard labor.
Both prisoners were, however, released after just one year -
a sentence which might seem shockingly light by today's standards.
However this accident occurred during wartime,
when every available man was needed to serve King and country. The death of more
than 200 soldiers in a terrible accident was more forgivable in a context where
thousands were slaughtered each and every day in the trenches.
Indeed, after their release from prison, both men were re-employed to work on the
railways, and went on to have long and relatively
successful careers.
Meanwhile a memorial was raised to the dead by public subscription.
It stands to this day in Rosebank Cemetery in Leith.
Upon it are listed the names of the dead - those men who, despite being brave enough
to fight for their country, died before even reaching the battleground.