December 10, 1998. Copyright, 1998, Graphic News. All rights reserved

LOCKERBIE: A WITNESSS STORY
By Midge Todhunter

LONDON, December 10, Graphic News:  Joan Jamieson runs the Black Bull pub at Lockerbie. She also has The Old Manse Guest House  where she was that fateful night  not 40 yards from where the planes wing came down on Shaw Crescent, blowing out a massive crater and bombarding the area with debris. This is her own account of events:

The first thing I heard was an almighty roar. It was as if a plane was taking off right outside  that noise, magnified 100 times. And then everything started to shudder.

My first thought was an earthquake. As I opened the back door I could see boulders flying everywhere  these boulders then began raining down on the house. One, about two feet square, came through the roof and landed on my bed. Another, just as big, was lodged in the rafters. All the windows were blown in, two ceilings came crashing down, and we later found a pick-axe which had come right through the front door and into the hallway.

Outside, the intense heat from the explosion has melted our car windscreen and buckled the steering wheel. People were running about among debris and burst water mains, and then the petrol station across the road caught fire. As we looked about, all our gardens were full of luggage, suitcases, trolleys  all the stuff you usually see on a plane. It was then we realised what had happened.

There were 10 bodies in one garden, just further up the road. Peoples personal belongings scattered all over the place. And everywhere, that terrible stench of formaldehyde. Soon five army helicopters began circling overhead, shining powerful lights as they went.

It took a long time for the emergency services to get here, because  though we didnt know it at the time  there was plane wreckage blocking the roads. At the top of the town, an engine had come down in the street and buried itself below the tarmac.

Everyone was taken away from their houses that night, for fear of gas explosions. We stayed with friends up on the hill above the town. Come daylight, the scene was unbelievable, and our little town was full of reporters and the media.

The crater was right on the motorway and police had to set a minimum, not maximum, speed of 30mph, because of sightseers.

Of course, it was Christmas time, so we did what we could for the children, but as you can imagine, it really was a difficult time.

Pan Am put an office in the town, and they were really so helpful. Having the pub kept us busy, which helped a lot, I think. There was counselling if you wanted it, but I found just talking it out was the best way to deal with it.

Everything was cleared up very quickly, but the people were stunned for weeks after  and all the time, the repeated words in the streets were: Why us?  why Lockerbie?

By spring the following year, all the houses had been repaired and people had moved back in. And life was slowly returning to normal. But that December night remains etched clearly in the memories of the townspeople of Lockerbie.

Lightning never strikes twice, added Joan, does it?
/ENDS