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.
