Compartments unopened

21st December 1988.1

It was during this evening, Pan American flight number 103 en route to JFK International from London Heathrow fell out of the sky over the Scottish borders and onto the town of Lockerbie.2

The rest does not need recounting as I am sure you know; but please let me take you on a personal journey that has had a lasting effect on my life.3

I was a young serviceman serving in Scotland at this time and not long married either. I was due on leave for Christmas; I was going back home to the Cotswolds to spend the holiday with my wife. My duties in Scotland at that time did not allow for family accompaniment.4

22nd December 1988.5

RAF Machrihanish, Campbeltown, Argyll.6

“Good morning lads.” The voice boomed out across the billet. 7

Those, words were uttered by the Orderly Sergeant and where not the words I really wanted to hear at 06:30. Especially; after last nights late drinking session, I had had, with friends prior to going on leave for Christmas.8

“Come on lads, lets be having you! I some good news and some bad news for you all; and then some really bad news to follow.” The sergeant’s voice boomed, in the confines of the room and it seemed magnified many times inside my aching head.9

The sergeant was greeted with various renditions of him being a fatherless so and so, along with some not so sanitary bodily noises.10

‘Ok, Lads enough. I’m being serious with you! The sergeant’s curt command cut a quiet across the room.
Now last night most of you will have hear about that jumbo that came down in the Boarders area. We have been tasked to go down there and help out search for wreckage and survivors. All leave is cancelled as of now!’11

The, silent and shocked faces that looked at each other suddenly turned to the sound of a new voice.12

‘So what was the good news then sergeant?’ Gypo John chirped up.’13

‘The good news is that we get to spend Christmas together and you won’t get to miss me. Now get up and get into the mess hall the CO is going to brief us all in 30 minutes so look sharp. Listen, this is a bad shout, there are a lot of dead bodies to be recovered and locals that need help. So give this the respect and professionalism it deserves.’14

So after breakfast in the mess and the Co’s brief, we found ourselves in the back of a four tonner going in convoy down to Lockerbie. It was a long and uncomfortable journey; a freezing cold morning to be in the back of a canvas covered wagon, with little to be cheery about; and certainly nothing cheery to look forward too.
The CO had painted a grim and bleak picture from the few facts that he had been told.15

Upon arrival on the out skirts of Lockerbie we pulled off the road to avoid the traffic that was backed up. There was the smell of burning and spent aviation fuel hanging in the air and a pall of thick black smoke from up ahead. The closer we got to Lockerbie the more we could see that the CO had under estimated his brief to us. 16

We were assembled on the side of the road and briefed by the appointed liaison officer and introduced to some policemen and locals who knew the area and had volunteered to help in the clear up operation. It was pretty clear to us by now and from our brief from these locals that there was not going to be any survivors.17

The task of the operation that needed our input was the finding of wreckage and the collection of personal effects that had been scattered over a large area as the jet broke up. The most important part was to locate and aid the recovery of any victims found and anything that might be able to identify them.18

We were all given plastic bags, gloves, a compass and a radio. We were broken up into sections of eight soldiers and a policeman or a local civilian. 19

Given our areas of search we were trucked out.20

The group I was with were dropped off at the end of a farm track out in the hills that where dotted around the town. 21

We had seen more smoke and broken houses from the road as we drove through. There was a big scar of fire blackened ground and big trench had been ploughed across the main road from which wisps of smoke still rose. The place looked like a war zone; like some places in Belfast I had seen on TV, after a terrorist incident. It was a mess.22

Once out of the truck and onto the hill side it didn’t take long for us to start finding debris.23

An empty suitcase, its lid sprung open by the impact as it landed and its strewn contents was the first thing I picked up and logged; followed by shoes, empty aircraft seats, various items of underwear, books and papers, even a wig.24

It was grim silent work picking over the belongings of the dead. Looking out over the hillside I could see groups of people the same as us collecting the grim flotsam of Pan Am flight 101. You know? Now that I think about it, after all this time, I don’t remember any bird’s song or hearing any sheep bleating. It was…. deathly quiet! There was even a mist starting to shroud the hill as if trying to cover up the tragedy that had happened here.25

“Over here!” a shout went out from one of the lads over by a low stone wall. 26

We picked our way through scattered debris that had yet to be gathered. We stopped just short and stood behind him and looked on open mouthed at the scene that had elicited his shout. 27

No one said a word what do you say to something like that. No amount of training and the retelling of war stories could ever prepare you for it.28

Andy the local civilian and farmer who’s land it was, walked out in front and crossed himself as he muttered a prayer as much to himself, as for the four bodies that lay before us.29

We just stood transfixed at the scene, while it took time to sink in and to get to get grips with it. What we were seeing; was twisted and contorted bodies totally alien to their surroundings; one was incomplete!30

What terror these people must have had suffered? I could not begin to imagine. And what; of my terror! And what; of my having to deal with this!31

“This is just the start; by what I hear there’s more; away over the rise.” Andy snapped us out of it. He had us call on the radio our position and what we had found. We were ordered to stay put and cover the bodies over. A team would be sent to us for retrieval of the deceased32

The day suddenly slowed down, it was almost like we where moving in slow motion, almost to a grinding halt. And the weather really started to close in as well. The tops of the hills became covered in mist that gave the surroundings an eerie surreal feeling; even more so because we knew the grim facts that lay out there, waiting to reveal themselves to us.33

That was just a brief account of the first day. We stayed for seven days doing much the same thing; until we were relieved by fresh troops; and allowed home for New Year.
.
Some, consolation New Year was; after all of that!34

It was sometime into the New Year, when we were all back at camp, the Army decided that we might need some counselling for the horror’s we had recently witnessed. Some Army Physiatrists had been brought in for anybody who felt the need to talk.35

No one I know of wanted to admit or wished to be seen to be weak; we all refused the offer.36

I cannot say this did not affect or change me. How could it not?37

So, to this day it is said about me that I have the most, odd brevity and some would say, warped out look on life and death.38

Not so! I just happen to compartmentalise things. I fit them into a box and store them away and get on with life. They are not fully dealt with these experiences, but slowly sit decomposing in some Faustian corner of my mind.39

Now I have retrieved and opened this compartment again; I find it hard to believe my minds eye picture memory of the event. It all seems like the re-run of some past video nasty best viewed after a few beers and a take-away curry. 40

Take the cassette out and put it back on the shelf