Aberfan

The 21st October 1966 at 9’15am is the anniversary of one of the most tragic peacetime events in our history, I have to relate the facts in the only way I know – through story poetry, this is not a true story but the facts are, this is how I think a family would have coped with the events of that tragic day when 116 children and 28 adults died because of the negligence of the National Coal Board, even after the disaster the NCB rejected any claims that they had done wrong. Although my characters are fiction the facts are true.

Aberfan a village, near Merthyr tydvil,North of the village a mountainous hill.The coal board built it, and built it with skillDark man-made mountain designed for a kill Warned time after time, one day they would slide'They need lowering now!' the villagers criedBut greedy owners swept protests asideThey wouldn't do anything till someone had died I had lived in Aberfan all of my lifeHad two loving sons and a loving wifeThe tale I will tell still cuts like a knifeA sad tale of woe, bereavement and strife At five that morning I woke for my shift,To be there for six, I had to be swift,The cold foggy air, gave me short shriftHated being late and really was miffed Got there on time, and clocked myself inI picked up my pit light and snapping tinInto the cage with the crack and the din'Morning, ' yelled Tom, with his big cheesy grin Tom was a good mate, I'd known thirty yearsGrew up together, scraped skin, shed our tearsIf you needed a friend to dispel fearTom was the one you would always want near Down we descended down into the gloom,Two mile below ground into the earth's wombYou get to the bottom, you never assumeJust one wrong step and it could be your tomb It was ten o clock when the word got roundSomething had just happened, something profoundThey mentioned the village and school playgroundWhen children were mentioned tools were soon downed 'Everyone up,' came the shout down the lineWe all grabbed tools headed out of the mineThe news we heard sent shivers down our spineThe slag heap had slid at a quarter past nine The school was under both debris and spoilFrom the mountains stretching up half a mileWe all knew the slag heaps had been tactileWith shovels we ran toward the black bile The sight that met us was straight out of hellThe slime had swamped from floor to school bellWomen were screaming a grief stricken yellHand's covered with blood from clawing at the shell Pain, panic and grief were etched on their faceAs we started digging at a fast paceWe knew time was precious, it was a raceFor come the darkness there'd be no more trace For the submerged houses it was too lateNo one gave thought, as by the school gatethe Grans and Mothers hold hands as they waitFor word of their children, word of their fate A hole appeared at the front of the school,the sludge wasn't so thick there, more of a poolThey wondered how God could be so damn cruelAs children were pulled out, from the cesspool. One by one they were carried to the gatePlucked from that hell and a terrible fateDeeper in the room we could not infiltrateFor the roof was moving under our weight 'Get back lads!' the foreman called out in vain'Get back lads' you're putting the roof under strain'Just wait, the helpers are bringing a crane',His words fell like stones in the heavy rain..We both had our children there, Tom and I,We didn't know how, but we must try and buyAs much time as possible, as time will flyIf we didn't act quickly, our children would die! I looked over at Tom, his powerful physique,I looked at his face, there were two white streaks,Where tears of anguish had ran down his cheekHis body was strong, but his spirit was weak. It was almost eleven, more men had comeWe were ushered away from the deep chasmHearts were broken that terrible AutumnWhen spoils of the rich began to succumb An army of people were now at the sceneFresh hands were digging, where we had just beenDigging for children all under thirteenWhile young volunteers set up a canteen. My own boys were seven and nine years old,When I woke today, I couldn't have foretold,What today would bring, what it would holdIf I had known, my own soul I'd have sold I was fearing the worst, I must admit,Had a bad feeling, since leaving the pit,Was ready to give up, ready to quitAs parent and husband, I felt unfit. 'Quiet' someone cried, but nothing was heardJust the fall of the rain, not even a bird,Everything was silent, and nothing stirredNo one dared speak even one single word. By night there were thousands upon that black tombAll hope was lost, just bodies to exhumeOver one hundred missing, in those classroomsAnd Mothers still waited in dark and gloom I searched for my wife among the crowdPushed through people, called her name out loudBack to the school gates through people I plowedReturned to our cottage, with my head bowed. As I walked in the hall at dead of night,My wife ran toward me, held me so tight,'I tried to find you but you weren't in sight,Find you and tell you, the boys were alright' 'They both had flu symptoms,' she started to say,I thought the best thing was to keep them away,I gave them both mixture- their pain to allayAnd it was the last day of term anyway I didn't believe it, couldn't believe my ears,I fell down on my knees, broke down in tears,In one loving moment, she'd erased my fearsI prayed to God for the first time in years Early next morning, from the bedroom I crept,Looked in on the boys, watched as they slept,I thought of their lost friends, I could have weptHow their future would change, they had no concept I stepped from my door, Tom stood outsideThat big man fell into my arms and cried'there's no one left, my children have diedI said there's a chance, but knew I had lied That was the last time I saw him that weekThe outlook was bad and looking so bleakChildren had died in the shadow of that peakThe National coal board hadn't made a squeak The After shock Chairman Lord Robens was in no great hurryHad a meeting at the University of Surrey,When told of the disaster, said 'look, don't worry,We'll get it cleaned up, the coal and the slurry' They set up a fund for compensationMillions donated, by a saddened nation,To the coal board it seemed a mild irritation,Tried to cover it up with controlled oration. They used raised funds, to remove their own messNo thought for the villagers under duressWhen the story broke they tried to suppressNo consideration or feeling, no finesse The survivors don't laugh don't go out to playFor fear of upsetting the parents who prayFor the children they lost on that fateful dayThe day that God took their loved ones away Eric Harvey 21/10/2020