The Grenfell Tower fire and the terrorist attacks in London and Manchester were horrifying to hear about, but what was it like for members of the emergency services sent to deal with those devastating incidents? India Sturgis spoke to the incredible women who faced the most demanding challenges of their careers
WESTMINSTER BRIDGE 22 March
Terrorist Khalid Masood drove a 4×4 into pedestrians on Westminster Bridge killing four and injuring 50 before crashing it into railings. He then ran into a yard outside Parliament with a knife and killed a police officer. He was shot by security officers and pronounced dead at hospital.
Lesley Powls, 47, is site director at St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington
The news broke during an internal management meeting when one of my colleagues caught my eye and held up a phone alert. I used to work close to Westminster Bridge so it really felt poignant. I was anxious because we didn’t know what we’d see in terms of injuries and we were the nearest of London’s four major trauma centres to the attack. In my role, though, I have to stay calm and we have an enormous major incident protocol – 175 pages – so everyone knows what to do.
The Grenfell Tower fire and the terrorist attacks in London and Manchester were horrifying but what was it like for members of the emergency services?
I was in the incident room – where I stayed for most of the day coordinating our response – when the attacker, Khalid Masood, arrived as one of the first of eight casualties we treated. However, all trauma patients are pre-allocated made-up names, such as Disney characters, by the London Ambulance Service so we have limited information about them other than their injuries. Everyone who comes through our doors is treated equally, irrespective of how they were injured or what anyone believes about them. Masood was no different.
You try to concentrate on the job, but it is emotionally challenging. I felt immense pride in the response of our staff. Those who speak multiple languages stayed to translate and help long past when they should have gone home. I’m not known for being touchy-feely but when my deputy came to relieve me at 10pm, after a 15-hour shift, I gave him a large embrace.
Ambulances queue up to attend to the injured on Westminster Bridge; flowers festoon the railings of Parliament in honour of the dead
Londoners proclaim their resolve to stand strong in the wake of the attack
That night, my husband met me off the tube with another hug; he’d been following the news and I’d sent him messages telling him how much I love and value him. We went home together but I didn’t turn on the news; I didn’t want to see it. I was back at the hospital at 5am the following day.
Afterwards I said I never wanted to run a major incident like it again although, in my heart, I knew it would happen. Within weeks we’d lived through the London Bridge attack and Grenfell Tower fire – and I was on hand for both.
We’re all put in situations that we could never dream of managing, but when it happens, we absolutely do. It has shown me how physically and emotionally resilient both the victims of these atrocities and my brilliant colleagues are.
MANCHESTER ARENA 22 May
Twenty two people were killed and 512 injured when a nail bomb was detonated by suicide bomber Salman Abedi during the final moments of an Ariana Grande concert.
Lea Vaughan (pictured below receiving her Women of the Year award from the Duchess of Cornwall in October), 40, is a paramedic for the hazardous area response team, North West Ambulance Service
I’ve worked for the ambulance service for nine years, been a logistics specialist for the armed forces and worked in refugee camps across Sierra Leone and Kosovo, but I’ve never seen anything like the sight that greeted us at Manchester Arena.
Lea Vaughan pictured receiving her Women of the Year award from the Duchess of Cornwall in October
I was radioed to the scene with a colleague knowing only that there had been an explosion and there could be an active shooter, the latter of which proved incorrect. As we approached it was clear that this was far from a normal incident. Many were still leaving the building covered in blood, injured or carrying small children.
We made our way into the blast zone in the foyer, telling the walking wounded to keep going as quickly as possible. The area was deemed unsafe and armed police and sniffer dogs were searching for a secondary device. One medic was there already but, after us, no other paramedics were allowed in because it was so dangerous. I wasn’t concerned for my safety at all; I knew there were seriously injured people who needed our help. Our training is so intensive that you just click into gear. I counted 26 critically injured – the most I had dealt with previously at any one time was three – and we set about triaging, working together in a circular motion clockwise from one to another as quickly as possible.
The day after the bomb, a vigil for its victims is held in London’s Trafalgar Square
Most of the injured were in their early teens. These were blast injuries, similar to those that you’d get in a war zone, and we were using equipment to stem catastrophic bleeding. These aren’t pleasant pieces of kit at the best of times. I was honest and warned it would hurt. The bravery of those young people will stay with me for ever. Another enduring memory is of the dedication and care I saw the wounded show to each other. Two of the critically injured lying side by side, who’d never met before, were comforting one another, putting pressure on each other’s wounds and watching for when they needed to apply extra bandages if the first bled through, as I’d instructed. The strength of character and humanity they showed was unfathomable.
The police officers were also amazing, listening carefully to our instructions. They fashioned makeshift stretchers using queue barriers and noticeboards to remove those they could. The teamwork in there was remarkable.
A sea of flowers in Manchester’s St Ann’s Square honouring the dead
Once we’d removed the live patients we had the task of declaring those who hadn’t made it. After an hour in the foyer we joined the throng outside where a field hospital had been set up and ambulances queued like black cabs.
At 4.30am I left but didn’t sleep until Wednesday night, some 36 hours later. It took a long time to process what had happened. You try not to get emotional. I had a job to do so that was what I put all my thoughts and energy into. The hardest part was putting the names to faces as the deceased were announced and reading about their personalities. Nothing can prepare you for that after having been there with them. It’s something I think about every single day and that will never leave me.
In October I was awarded a Barclays Women of the Year Award alongside other women from Manchester’s emergency and medical services and also invited to Number 10 Downing Street to be thanked by Theresa May. It was overwhelming and unexpected, especially given that it was very much a team effort. I’m hugely proud of how the emergency services, volunteers and patients pulled together. I don’t feel like a hero. I’m just someone who happened to be on duty that night. It could so easily have been one of my colleagues and they would have done just as good a job. Still, I’ll be forever grateful for the part I was able to play in minimising the devastation wreaked by that cowardly act that night.
Laura Prescott, 34, is a bereavement liaison nurse at the Royal Bolton Hospital
Laura Prescott, right, 34, is a bereavement liaison nurse at the Royal Bolton Hospital
The morning after the attack I arrived at the hospital to talk to victims and family members. I have two small children aged nine and seven who’d begged me to buy tickets to the concert but I’d been too late, so found the accounts that I heard particularly hard to bear. We’d watched Olly Murs perform there only the month before. You imagine how easily it could have been you.
The ward was in organised chaos. One teenager had been badly hurt by shrapnel and was alone. She’d been with her mother at the concert, who she knew was injured too, but had no idea where she was. The girl was in shock and told me about the screams, cries and sound of ambulances she’d heard. Often it’s not about what or how much you say to a patient – listening can be far more helpful. People forget these were mostly young girls to whom body image is so important. They were worried not just about relatives but also about how they are going to look later on.
I spent 12-hour days over the next two weeks at a local hotel where relatives of the bereaved were staying, supported by medical professionals and the police. Everyone deals with things differently. Some shared memories. Others just wanted to cry or ask ‘Why him or her?’ – a question we can never answer.
LONDON BRIDGE and BOROUGH MARKET 3 June
Three men used a van to strike pedestrians at 50mph on London Bridge before carrying out further attacks using knives around Borough Market bars and restaurants. Eight people died and 48 were injured. All three attackers were shot dead by police.
Natalie Poole, below, 35, is lead anaesthetic nurse at Royal London Hospital
Like many Londoners, I was enjoying a night out with friends when not long after 10pm someone checked their phone and saw something was happening at London Bridge. Minutes later my theatre coordinator called to ask me to come in to work. I didn’t have my identification badge so had to get a taxi home to collect it before heading to the Royal London in Whitechapel. The roads were either gridlocked or closed due to the attack, so two miles from the hospital I got out and walked the rest of the way.
Natalie Poole, 35, is lead anaesthetic nurse at Royal London Hospital
Police on duty at a cordon near Borough Market in the aftermath of the attack
It was strange having been off duty and knowing exactly what had been happening outside. I had to push everything to the back of my mind to treat one female patient with multiple injuries. She was in theatre until 6am and I remember looking out of the windows as the sun came up and thinking how still and peaceful the city looked, as if it was any other day. It was a surreal contrast to what had gone on that night.
Three days later I met Prince Charles when he visited our hospital. I told him I’d walked miles to get here to treat people and he was amazed. My colleagues now sing The Proclaimers’ song ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’ to me, but I would have willingly walked further.
Nicola Rudkin, below (with Prince Charles when he visited victims of the attack), 36, is matron of the adult critical care unit at Royal London Hospital
I was in bed enjoying a rare early night, scrolling through my phone before going to sleep, when I saw something terrible was happening at London Bridge. Straight away, I rang work to see if they needed me. My first week as a critical care ward nurse was during the 2005 London bombings and I knew I’d rather go and not be needed than realise the scale of events too late to be able to help. Once it was clear this was a major incident I pulled on my clothes and drove to the hospital.
Nicola Rudkin, with Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall when they visited victims of the attack
We saw 12 casualties, six on the critical care ward: a mixture of stab wounds and blunt force trauma from those hit by the vehicle. Everyone was focused but sombre. As there was already a matron on duty, I helped with finding beds and liaised with family and friends caught up in the horror. You go on to autopilot. We’re trained to treat trauma but the hardest part is dealing with the grief. Some of those I spoke to had been with their loved ones when they were attacked but had escaped injury. There was a lot they were coming to terms with. I tried to focus on the patient, reassure them they were in a safe place, but it was unknown territory.
As dawn was breaking I went home, put on the news and cried. While we can make people better we can’t always make them who they were before.
Police marksmen on London Bridge during the terror attack
The area is sealed off; messages of solidarity and hope cover a wall near London Bridge
GRENFELL TOWER 14 June
In the early hours a 24-storey block in North Kensington caught fire as flames spread from a faulty fridge-freezer on the fourth floor. More than 200 firefighters battled the blaze, which took more than 24 hours to control. At its height, fire crews could reach only the 12th floor and the rapidity with which the fire leapt through the building has been attributed to unsafe cladding and insulation. Seventy one people are believed to have died and 151 homes were destroyed.
In the early hours a 24-storey block in North Kensington caught fire as flames spread from a faulty fridge-freezer on the fourth floor
Lara Campbell, 23, is an emergency medical dispatcher with the London Ambulance Service, Waterloo
Lara Campbell, right, 23, is an emergency medical dispatcher with the London Ambulance Service, Waterloo
It was after midnight when I took one of the first calls about the fire. A woman from a nearby building said she could see flames coming from Grenfell Tower. She was calm, and it seemed small then. But within minutes calls from those inside, outside and nearby started pouring in. A colleague next to me spoke to a family trapped inside who were frantic and screaming, asking for help. I heard it all. We knew the emergency services were there so all we could do was pass on their location, reassure them and let them know help was on its way. There’s no right thing to say in that situation. I was on a night shift that evening – 7pm to 7am – it was my first major incident and I’d been in the role for six months. I didn’t take any more calls from the public but I did pick up a call from the London Fire Brigade to say it was a 40-pump fire, which meant that 40 fire engines were needed. We just looked at each other in the control room and were, like, wow. By the early hours of the morning everyone was in shock. We just wanted the night to be over.
Dany Cotton is commissioner of the London Fire Brigade
Dany Cotton, right, is commissioner of the London Fire Brigade
Grenfell Tower was an unprecedented fire and the effects of what happened that night will stay with me for ever. I’m not making any bones about the fact that I’m having counselling and I’m not sleeping brilliantly. In my first six months of doing this job, we had two terrorist incidents and Grenfell. Time and time again my staff stepped up. It just makes me so proud.
Anna Dobbie, below, 39, is a consultant in emergency medicine with London’s Air Ambulance
My home is a mile from Grenfell Tower and my husband works as a doctor, also with London’s Air Ambulance. We were both asleep when, at 2.36am, our phones buzzed with emergency alerts calling us into work. Flicking through social media made plain the scale of the incident.
Anna Dobbie, 39, is a consultant in emergency medicine with London’s Air Ambulance
We didn’t use a helicopter as you can’t land at night without a helipad; instead we met a team from Royal London Hospital at a rendezvous point outside the building and set up two casualty clearing stations either side of the tower to process and triage those who were still leaving the building. It was about 3am and the sight and sound of the tower ablaze in the night sky is something I’ll never forget. You couldn’t take it all in. I’d attended fires before but nothing like this. I usually deal with single patients, two or three at most, but the thing that struck me here was the series of families emerging together. As a mother of two children aged four and seven, it really hit a chord. They were in the initial stages of shock and absolute disbelief. It would take a long time to process what had happened.
I stayed until 10am, when I left with my husband. You couldn’t fail to be affected. My coping mechanism is to talk through what I’ve witnessed with my husband, which is exceptionally useful because we both know what it’s like to be on the frontline of a major incident.
The following day my children went to school around the corner from the tower, walking through the ash, dust and smoke. They ask questions and I don’t lie, but I protect them from the finer details. They know what their parents do and I hope they’re proud.
Fiona Simpson, 27, is a senior online reporter at the London Evening Standard
A JOURNALIST’S PERSPECTIVE
Fiona Simpson, right, 27, is a senior online reporter at the London Evening Standard
I spent the morning of the Grenfell fire at the reopening of Borough Market, where the atmosphere was so happy. Around midday my boss asked me to meet my colleague at Grenfell. The building was still on fire; I could smell it as I approached. My colleague had been there since 7am; his white shirt was grey from the ash and his face red from the heat.
We were given several lines to follow by our editor. We’d heard that someone had thrown a baby out of a window, and that the alarm had been raised by Muslims on Ramadan, so we were looking for anyone who could verify that, and trying to speak to anyone who’d been involved. It’s hard not to get emotional in these circumstances, but you have to stand back and do what you need to do. I had to gauge carefully who wished to grieve privately and who was prepared to speak to me. Some people would talk to anyone while others were closed off or angry.
As I was leaving at about 3.30pm, I saw a fireman who looked exhausted – he’d taken his helmet and protective clothes off. He said, ‘I’m knackered, I’ve been here since 1am, and I’m coming back at 8pm.’ You don’t appreciate what a hard job it is until you speak to someone in that position.