When terrorists detonated four bombs in London's public transport infrastructure, I was in a chaplain's conference in York, in the north of England. I was taking notes on my laptop. The following diary entries are exactly as I wrote them: the first entry, (in block capitals) with uncorrected spelling. In the diary following, I have corrected only the spelling; form and content remains exactly as I wrote the first draft in Hammersmith, west London, less than 24 hours after the blasts, (the one exception being the penultimate paragraph, where I have cut personal details.) Even the formatting of the two pieces remains unchanged. My rationale for this is that I felt it important to record my initial responses. In life, there are no second drafts, no polished words--just our actions borne by prior experience, noble or ignoble. First, then, my (highly inaccurate) diary entry less than three hours after the 4th bomb detonated on a number 30 bus on Thursday 7th July 2005. - John Ruffle
BREAK: WE FIND OUT ABOUT MULTIPLE BOMB BLASTS IN LONDON, 90 CASULATIES AT ALDGATE, SIX BLASTS ON UNDERGROUND, ONE BUS BOMB BLAST IN KENSIGNTON, AND ALL INNER LONDON TRAVEL INFRASTUCTURE CLOSED DOWN AND FULL-SCALE EMERGENCY CONTINGENCY PLAN IN OPEARTION, INCLUDING CLOSURE OF ALL HOSPITALS EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCIES; SCHOOLS ARE HOLDIONG CHILDREN AND NOT ALLOWING THEM TO GO HOME.
8th July 2005 0700 hours
Less than 24 hours after the London Attack
There are many lessons to be learned from this attack. The first one for me is a single word: "preparedness." The scenario I was in was remarkably similar to that of 9/11. At that time, I'd been out of town attending an annual ministers' conference. This time around, in the city of York, we were concluding a three-day chaplains' conference, attended mostly by Church of England clergy. In theory, you would imagine that we would have been ready and fired up for action for an event such as this; but that is the theory of it. What any terrorist attack requires is rapid, measured and co-orientated action. That demands preparedness of the highest order.
These current attacks highlighted for me the typical human response in the immediate aftermath of the unexpected. First, by definition, the unexpected IS unexpected. Planning for the exact details of an unknown event is impossible; that is why disaster plans exist, that systematically bring on board responders in a co-ordinated way, with each group working within the known professional bounds of their expertise. The first responders are accustomed to dealing with blood, trauma, shock and body bags. I do not think that makes it any easier for these brave heroes, after all, they have feelings, family and friends and unless recognised and managed, a measure of emotional trauma is inevitable. This is where a chaplain's role may well be useful.
The scenario for me yesterday was as follows: At around 11:15, two hours after the attack, the chaplains went for a coffee break, and that is when we saw the events unfolding on BBC 24 news channel. At that point, the number of blasts was still unknown, no causality figures were even being guessed at, and Transport for London, who control London's public transport infrastructure were denying any bomb blasts on the rail system, and instead were describing a series of unexplained "power surges" that had affected several trains. The bus bomb was impossible to deny - we had pictures of it. This I'm sure was a carefully chosen panic reduction strategy: remember, the size and extent of these multiple attacks was still being assessed.
General public reaction was not one of disbelief. There is a general public understanding of the serious nature of the threat of terrorism.
1-3 hours Shock, attempting to assess the scale of the disaster. During this period, the security of family and loves ones is predominant; however I'm questioning and re-questioning the appropriateness of my responses. For instance, it took me 2-3 hours for me to instruct my wife to ensure a radio was on in the house for emergency information - even though we have two wind-up radios especially for this type of event.
3-6 hours By this time, rational thinking becomes much easier. All seven immediate family members are accounted for, and more importantly, my wife is able to oversee getting each one of them back home by the safest and speediest route. I've also been able to come up with a plan to get back to London without public transport.
12-15 hours I finally arrive in west London, having been offered a lift by a businessman in York, after the cancellation of all main line trains to London. The traffic is surprisingly light. West London, coming in on the elevated section of the M4 motorway from Heathrow, seems strangely silent. Even Frank, acting the Good Samaritan for us, comments on how eerily silent everything seems. Layered in a blanket of shock. The city does not even echo with the sirens of emergency response vehicles - something that is part of everyday life here - as if even the response teams have finally laid down to rest, exhausted. I have to decide where my priorities lie. My family hasn't seen me for 3 days, and may be traumatised (Rebekah had been on a school trip to central London when the blasts went off. Fortunately, the party had been able to turn around and return to school before public transport had been frozen.)
16-22 hours I sleep, and dream of failing to save my seven-year-old son as he slips from a wall. Perhaps, in God's wisdom, He is taking me through the process of loss, of helplessness, of shock and grief that hundreds across London are having to face this morning. It is not a nightmare; it the outliving of a stark reality that hundreds of Londoners today are having to face, only in my case, thankfully, played out vicariously. God has a way of getting us in tune with His compassion and the depth of His love. For a moment, as I lay awake on my bed in the early hours, I feel the sense of loss, of bereavement, the Heavenly Father and Jesus' disciples - must have felt when Jesus, from that cross of torture, cried out "It is finished!" Yes, Jesus rose back to life victorious over it all - but at the cost of the physical, day-to-day life that is given to every one of us. Jesus died as a young man, in his prime. Yes, it was God's will, but the cost was none the less very real. Had he been as attached to physical life as we often are, there almost certainly would have been no cross.
22-24 hours My morning meditation: I turn on the radio, catching the latest causality figures and succinct quotes to put into this report - as if you've not been watching it on satellite TV around the world. Then I attempt to set my thoughts to paper. Now, I must get my Jean-Paul ready for school, and then make my own way into the further education college where I lecture. "Everything will be up and running, I'll see you tomorrow" my manager had assured me when I called in from the M1 yesterday. I had detected a brittle sense of shock in her voice, almost is if she was wishing everything to be normal. However, there will be no business as usual in the hearts of Londoners. There will be fresh thoughts of the meaning and fragility of life; of a multitude of levels of grief and shock that people will need to walk through. As a chaplain, I have the privilege of "sharing my cape" with my fellow travellers, offering comfort, human understanding, and not much theology, except that of love.
I am now facing my own dilemma. My need is to complete this article, print out onto the second page of our newsletter, conveniently already printed on side one, with a page of whiteness that I know is reserved by God for this report. I need to engage the local faith community and to see if help is required in the local hospital. However, it is business as usual. However, at the College, my presence may also be needed; helping students come to terms with what has happened... I go upstairs and hug the still sleeping form of my 7-year-old son, Jean-Paul. I cannot explain the miracle of life, but I am thankful and grateful.
