M62 Bombing

M62 Army Bus Blast Horror

By Harold Cunliffe

Memorial at Hartshead Moor Services

When I visit my family who live at York, the M62 motorway is the chosen route.

When passing the Leeds intersection of the motorway a group of high rise flats can be seen in the distance. These were built during the mid-1960’s when local authorities decided to build high rise dwellings. Many have since been demolished. At this period, having just left school, I was employed by a cabinet maker at Green Lane, Heywood. The Epson Hi-Grade factory won the contract to produce the kitchen furniture for the new high rise flats. Three large furniture vans would cross the Pennines laden with units heading towards Yorkshire almost on a daily basis to destinations to Hull, Sheffield, Leeds and many other Yorkshire towns who had building projects.

Back then the route to Yorkshire from Heywood was via Blackstone Edge due to the M62 not being in existence. This was a bleak road to navigate during the winter months; just a narrow road would appear out of the darkness as you proceeded. One night the driver and I were driving along the moorland road making our way towards Rochdale after delivering a full load of units to a building project at Leeds, where a large cluster of high rise dwellings were under construction. For the drivers of H.G.V’s there were no motorway services where they could relieve themselves or gain refreshment, they relied upon transport café’s which were dotted around and provided inexpensive quality meals. On the night in question the driver announced that he needed the toilet, rather urgently. With this in mind he parked at the side of the narrow road, then he grabbed a toilet roll from behind his seat and shot off at great speed down the steep hillside. Trans Pennine roads are very dark in winter so I had no idea where he was located. We were still a distance from home so I decided to relieve myself by standing at the side of the vehicle. Being so dark I did not see a disused rusty paint tin at the side of the road as I made my way along the side of the furniture van, accidently kicking it sent it rolling down the hillside. The action of relieving myself was interrupted by an expletive from the darkness, one I am unable to repeat but obviously came from the direction of the drivers position. Then, out of the darkness came the driver at speed and holding his pants, and looking distressed. I asked him what had happened. “I am shaking with fear,” he commented. “I had just got down to business, then I heard something approaching me, it must have been

Inset showing names of the victims

a fox, I must have disturbed it and it shot through my legs, it frightened me to death, I almost c*****d myself,” he exclaimed. My reply was that the place we had parked was not ideal, rather hostile, cold, dark and windy, then he pointed into the darkness informing me that the moors over in that direction were the highest point, “and would you believe it,” he said, “a motorway from Lancashire to Yorkshire, Liverpool to Hull was being planned to cross the moors.” Sadly, around seven years later, once the cross Pennine motorway was constructed the silence of the moorland in the direction he pointed to was to be disturbed and witness the horror of a bomb being detonated on a coach transporting servicemen and their families to Yorkshire which killed twelve people and eleven more were injured. As we near the season where we remember those who “did their bit,” we should remember those who lost their lives on that fateful February day in 1974 on the M62 motorway. Especially the two innocent young children aged 5 and 3 years of age who were no threat to anyone.

Proud Young Lad

At the time I took over an insurance agency on Langley, the vast Manchester Overspill Estate, the economic climate was good and it looked like a profitable business proposition. The society I worked for also had an agent based at the same North Manchester office, who would go on to entertain many people. This funny man practised for hours on end to perfect his piano playing routine where he would drop certain notes, making folk roar with laughter without telling a gag. My paying in day was Wednesday morning; same time as our future celebrity, this being the only contact I had with him apart from banter in the office. Some of the other agents would meet up with him during the evenings where Les would play the piano in the local pubs around Collyhurst and Harpurhey. Having an insurance agency put you in the position of where you witnessed your clients activities on a weekly basis observing their family lives, going about their business, growing up, sharing memorable events within them. One home in which I visited each week was the Whalley family. At this dwelling mum and dad watched one of their children achieve his ambition in becoming an Army cadet. Stephen Whalley was so proud when gained his uniform. One occasion is in my memory of him wearing his kit, it was a Monday evening when I visited the Whalley home, standing in the corridor I was entering the premiums into the log book when sixteen year old Stephen entered the front door, in uniform and upon entry, his mother spotting him gave a look of proudness, a look only a mother can give. No doubt she was so proud that her little boy was growing up into a man and he looked so smart.

Fusilier Whalley

Bomb Blast Horror.

Two years later, February 4th 1974. Fusilier Stephen Whalley spent Sunday visiting friends and relatives before bidding farewell to his parents prior to taking a taxi to Oldham where he and others boarded the 11.20pm coach at Mumps Bridge, which would

Family memorial

transport the personnel to Yorkshire. Little did anyone realise that a bomb had been planted on the coach, within the luggage compartment of the boot. The horror of the explosion was related by Fusilier Kirby who lived at Rochdale and was on the coach with Peter Steriker, both survived the blast. Kirby who was back from field exercise at Catterick, described to the local newspaper, the ‘Rochdale Observer’ the last few seconds before their coach was badly damaged by a bomb, which it was thought to have been planted by the IRA. Fusilier Kirby described the events to the local newspaper; “It was just like any other trip back to camp after a weekend leave. Some people were talking. Others were dozing. I was chatting to Nigel and complaining that the seats weren’t comfy enough to get some sleep in. Then it happened. There was a terrific bang. For a split second I thought the tyres had burst. Everything went black and the coach seemed to come apart. The back end just collapsed and we were left sitting on the part which was left intact. We just sat there dazed and shocked. Suddenly it dawned on us what had happened. But there was no panic. Nigel and I jumped out of the wreckage and ran across some fields to a farmer’s house to telephone the police. We went back to the coach to help with the injured and the dying and to look for our mates in the 2nd Battalion. But there was not a lot we could do. A few people were trapped in the wreckage and we couldn’t get them out. There were also a lot of people ying in the road at the back of the coach. It was a terrible sight.” Fusilier Kirby also commented that in his opinion it was the skill of the coach driver, Mr Roland Handley, which prevented an even greater casualty toll. He said: “The windscreen of the coach was shattered by the explosion and the driver got some of the flying splinters in his face. I remember the coach swerving, but the driver managed to pull it up on the hard shoulder. He did a great job.”

At the time of the bus bomb I was employed by the Parks & Cemeteries Dept and can remember how I felt upon reading the name on the current burial list, a name I had once known. A very sad loss. On the day of the funeral hundreds of neighbours turned out along with family and friends. The Mayor of Middleton Councillor and Mrs Les Worsley and the Town Clerk, J.M.Russum was at the front of the church. Over thirty soldiers and officers attended the funeral along with six of Stephen’s colleagues from the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers who acted as pall bearers. Being a terrorist killing plain clothes detectives mingled with the crowd.

By His Side

Fusilier Whalley did not die at the time of the bombing, he was badly injured and was taken to Bradford Royal Infirmary where he passed away the following Thursday, four days after the M62 bomb blast. His mother was taken to the Bradford Royal by police and Army officials on Monday morning, where she stayed until his death. John Whalley, his father who was separated from his wife was at work as a driver when he received the news of the incident. His employer made contact with John who was making deliveries around Halifax. Stephen returned from a three month tour of Northern Ireland three months prior to his death.

Grave

The final resting place of Fusilier Whalley is at Boarshaw Cemetery. The grave is located close to the chapel. This important funeral was one of the first I had been involved in with my new position. Today when at the cemetery I visit the grave with two memorials. One family, one military

Whalley funeral

to pay my respects. Special thanks to “Yourtrust,” Rochdale who manage local studies, the art collection and the artefact collection for Rochdale council. As always their staff are always on hand to help and provide material in my quest to document memories from yesteryear. In the collation of this feature material was not easy to find, especially with my distrust of the internet. “Yourtrust” (staff member Jenny) and a bit of luck came to my assistance. The information I required was a comprehensive list of who died on the coach on that fateful day. Returning from York one Sunday afternoon we were delayed on the M62 by roadworks, so a quick visit to Hartshead Moor Services was required. With a hot drink in hand and taking a stroll to stretch one’s legs I noticed a memorial stone in the distance. I was surprised to discover that the memorial is in memory of the 1974 coach bombing. Stephen Whalley is listed who was the last person to die. The bombing incident took place on the opposite carriageway of the motorway. Since finding this memorial I now find that members of the Middleton British Legion have attended memorial services in the past. Men and Women Reduced to Tears

The atmospheric February sunshine cast its light through the stained glass partition in the Chapel of Blackley Cemetery on the sad vision of the coffins containing the family of Lance Corporal Clifford Haughton (23) his 22 year old wife Linda, and the two small coffins of their two boys, Robert (5) and Lee (2). The Rev A. Park, Rector of St Lukes, Lightbowne, said, “Everyone had to feel deep hurt but should show no resentment or bitterness. He had been surprised when he visited the families that they felt no malice, only hurt, a hurt he hoped would soon pass.” Thirty men from Corporal Haughton’s unit accompanied the cortege to the grave. It was estimated that over 200 people attended the graveside, just ordinary people, grief-stricken local folk wanting to pay their respects. Catholics and Protestants amassed around the grave, shoulder to shoulder. Standing in the shadow of the internment was one of the gravediggers who witnessed the service, shaking his head he

Haughton family

commented, “It shouldn’t happen.” Undertakers and cemetery staff are always affected when a young life is lost.