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Scottish Sun
21 hours ago
- Scottish Sun
I spent weeks identifying 7/7 victims – the atrocity still haunts me 20 years on
HERO Scots cops who identified victims of the London 7/7 terror attacks last night revealed they are still haunted by the atrocity 20 years on. Paul Clements, 67, recalled his 'traumatic' five-week deployment in a mortuary holding commuters killed when terrorists detonated suicide bombs on three trains and a bus. 4 Paul Clements helped with the aftermath of 7/7 bombings in London. 4 Forensic team examine the Tavistock Square bus for clues. Credit: News Group Newspapers Ltd 4 The London Underground train which was bombed at Aldgate tube station. Credit: Handout 4 Callum Sutherland often thinks about the victims. Credit: Ray Collins The retired Met
The Sun
21 hours ago
- The Sun
I spent weeks identifying 7/7 victims – the atrocity still haunts me 20 years on
HERO Scots cops who identified victims of the London 7/7 terror attacks last night revealed they are still haunted by the atrocity 20 years on. Paul Clements, 67, recalled his 'traumatic' five-week deployment in a mortuary holding commuters killed when terrorists detonated suicide bombs on three trains and a bus. 4 4 4 The retired Met Police officer revealed he still struggles to board the Underground due to painful memories of the rush-hour tragedy — when 52 people lost their lives and 784 others were wounded. He had grown used to dealing with the 'ugly side' of life in the force but nothing prepared him for his work helming a team of Disaster Victim Identification officers. Days from the 20th anniversary of the attack on July 7, 2005, dad-of-one Paul, from Stranraer, said: 'I spent five weeks in a mortuary with a team trying to identify victims. 'It was traumatic, of course it was. Each body part or each person is also a crime scene. 'Obviously we had to recover any forensic evidence. We had to look for SIM cards, or bits of circuit board, for evidential purposes, because we were trying to find out what type of detonators were used. 'You're dealing with an ugly side of life — and as a police officer you do deal with the ugly side of life — but this was on a fairly massive scale. 'It took most people by surprise. You do have to be professional.' Three bombs were detonated on board Underground trains within 50 seconds of each other as Londoners headed to work. An hour later a fourth explosive ripped through the top of a No30 double-decker bus. Recalling his struggles later to catch the tube, with the memory of the attacks fresh, Paul said: 'I remember later walking to the tube station. 7/7 survivor Dan Biddle and his rescuer Adrian interview 'I got to the entrance and I just couldn't walk in it. I got a mental flashback of everything I'd just dealt with. 'I thought, no, I cannot go on the tube. And strangely enough, I got a bus, and the bus took me probably three or four times the length of time. 'Although obviously a bus was bombed as well, it didn't have the same mental impact as the tube did. 'For about a year I just refused to go on the tube. Needs must and eventually I faced up to it and jumped on the tube. But even now it just brings back all those memories. 'I'll do it, but I never feel comfortable going on the tube — and that's 20 years later.' Three suicide bombers launched the deadliest terror atrocity on British soil — setting off from Leeds around 4am in a hired Nissan Micra then driving to Luton to meet their fourth accomplice. Scots Victim Tragedy ACCOUNTANT Helen Jones was the only Scot to die in the terror attack. Helen, 28, was killed in the Piccadilly line bombing just weeks after moving into a North London flat with her boyfriend. She grew up in Templand, near Lockerbie, Dumfries-shire, and went to Aberdeen University aged just 16. After leaving school, she also spent time working with prostitutes and drug addicts at Glasgow's city mission and volunteered at homeless hostels. She'd texted her partner just before the bomb was detonated. Three of the men, Mohammad Sidique Khan, 30, Shehzad Tanweer, 22, and Germaine Lindsay, 19, entered the Underground and boarded separate trains. Ringleader Khan got into the second carriage of a westbound Circle line train heading to Paddington and detonated his device near double doors at Edgware Road station. Tanweer boarded an eastbound Circle line train and set off his device at the rear of the second carriage between Liverpool Street and Aldgate at the same time. Meanwhile, Lindsay caused the most devastation when he exploded his bomb on a southbound Piccadilly Line service between King's Cross and Russell Square. An hour later Hasib Hussain, 18, launched a fourth attack on boarding a bus at Tavistock Square. Retired Detective Sergeant Callum Sutherland, 67, from Greenock, led units working with pathologists to identify the deceased in a makeshift mortuary. The crime scene manager and his officers had to search for bits of explosive devices — a job so grim that many opted to stay in a hotel for five weeks rather than return to their families and discuss the devastating details. Callum endured harrowing shifts with fellow officers within the temporary morgue in the gardens of the Honourable Artillery Company. Netflix Doc Details Horror Attack A NEW Netflix documentary will offer inside accounts of the horrific day. Attack on London: Hunting The 7/7 Bombers features exclusive interviews with witnesses, including survivors and police. Former Prime Minister Tony Blair, 72, also contributed to the programme. And relatives of Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes, 27, pictured, who was shot dead after being wrongly suspected of being a terrorist, also have their say. The documentary will launch on the streaming service on Tuesday. He admitted: 'A girl was meant to be getting married there over the weekend. The police or the government paid for her wedding to be somewhere else so they could use this as a temporary mortuary. 'It's later it affects you. You'll hear police officers say, it doesn't bother me, it's just a job. 'Well, rubbish. It does. Not necessarily at the time, or the next day, or a few days later, but at some point it will.' Family man Callum has also worked with crime author and scriptwriter Lynda La Plante on TV shows Prime Suspect and Trial & Retribution. He added: 'You have the occasional nightmare. I've always felt if it doesn't bother you, then you're not the right person for the job. 'One of the things that was different as well is, generally, in a murder, you don't know who did it, or you don't know the exact cause of death until you have a post-mortem. But with the bombings, you knew how those people had died from the word go. 'It's tiring because you were doing 12-plus hour days, day in, day out, but we had an important job to do.' He and colleague Paul remain proud of how they handled the toughest days of their careers. Paul said: 'It doesn't feel like 20 years. It seems in some instances almost like a couple of years ago. We all felt very proud. I think we're all professional, and it was a multi-team sort of effort because it wasn't just Met officers and we worked exceptionally well.' Callum added: 'You should be thinking about people who've lost their loved ones, giving family comfort and finding out who did it.'
Irish Times
14-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
A Year in the Woods; An Irishman in Northern Mesopotamia; and The Papers of Maurice FitzGerald
A Year in the Woods: Montalto through the Seasons by Paul Clements (Merrion Press,) The year 1992, the last days of summer, and Paul Clements and his wife move into a rented cottage in the woods of the Montalto estate, near Ballynahinch in Co Down. The move is intended to be temporary, but a year later they are still there: laying down memories of quiet rural living, absorbing the lessons of place, and observing the natural world into which they are now folded, and with which they come to feel a profound connection. This bewitching book – finely produced by Merrion Press – is the result of this unexpectedly lengthy sojourn: Clements is deeply sensitive to the effects of the changing seasons, and aware of the other creatures who share this space – and he renders his experiences in stirring and beautiful prose. – Neil Hegarty An Irishman in Northern Mesopotamia by Nicholas Mackey (Unicorn, £25) Northern Mesopotamia stands between the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers in what is now southeast Türkiye – the Turkish government changed the country's spelling to Türkiye in 2021. The author's journey through a distinctive part of west Asia embraces many aspects of history with an exploration of ancient wonders in 'the cradle of civilisation'. His book also reflects cultural life, the food, and colourful descriptions of local bazaars. As a young boy growing up in Ireland, Mackey read about the region, which lit a fire within him, leaving a deep impression. This forms part of a wider story, recalling a tour of the region based on his journal. The writings of explorers Marco Polo and Ibn Battuta, as well as the historian Herodotus, are all invoked. – Paul Clements READ MORE The Papers of Maurice FitzGerald, 18th Knight of Kerry by Adrian FitzGerald (Kingdom Books, 2 vols, €50) This collection of the papers of Maurice FitzGerald, 18th Knight of Kerry, has been prepared by his descendant Adrian FitzGerald, and is published in a boxed set of two volumes. Maurice FitzGerald (1774–1845) represented Kerry constituencies in the Irish House of Commons before the Act of Union of 1800 and afterwards in Westminster. He supported the union, but on the understanding that it would be accompanied by measures of Catholic relief. When such measures were not immediately introduced, he became disillusioned and increasingly absented himself from parliament. Catholic Emancipation was not granted until 1829. FitzGerald later opposed O'Connell's movement for repeal of the union. – Felix M Larkin
Irish Times
05-05-2025
- Climate
- Irish Times
The fall of an ancient tree is a sad occasion. It marks the death of a living monument
It is the first Saturday in grey-grim January 1993 and the end of a tempestuous wind-filled week. All evening the enigmatic Montalto Roarer, as we have labelled it, has been whipping up, realising our fears. (These were the days before most storms were imbued with names which somehow belittle their devastating nature.) The Roarer has a character of its own. The fifth consecutive stormy night is under way, gathering more whirling energy each evening. The forecast on the radio warns that it will reach gale force or beyond, and tonight it hurtles into overdrive. By 11pm it is barrelling headlong across the countryside into the estate. Throughout the night the merciless wind, with barely any respite, roars, whistles and howls in all directions around the cottage doors, moaning down the chimney, testing the foundations. Windows rattle with an alarming intensity. The accompanying eerie howls and groans are unnerving, yet at the same time exhilarating, if disquieting, and make it hard to sleep. Around 3am, after considerable tossing and turning, I rise and peer out at younger trees thrashing and swishing around, as though trying to make good their escape from the ground, and I ponder the fate of the bigger ones. READ MORE On Sunday morning the extent of the devastating tantrum is apparent. One of the noblest beeches in the estate, a tree of enormous dimensions, has come crashing down on the main circular drive near the front of the big house. The tree had lorded it over the lawn and lake, and frequently on my way past I had admired its changing colour patterns, moving from brilliant yellow to rich, reddish-brown mahogany. Young, newly planted trees have been uprooted and ripped from their shallow grip, now sagging limply, while hefty branches have come off others. But they do not have the pedigree and powerful sense of longevity of their venerable neighbour, and their loss is less profound. The fall of an ancient tree is a sad occasion. It marks the death of a living monument, a touchstone that has been a shared source of happiness to a vast universe of organisms linked to a multicellular life of interconnectivity. I reflect on the food chains the tree hosted and the fact that over the decades it gave nourishment, sheltering thousands of nesting birds, while mosses and lichen clothed its bark. Paul Clements: 'Visited by many, loved by all, the beech tree was an ecological megalopolis'. Photograph: Trevor Ferris The beech tree, over 80 feet tall and more than two centuries old, was wrenched out of the ground with prodigious force, leaving a gaping and disturbing hole. It had been weak for several years and its immense root network had rotted. Holes in the trunk were attacked by algae and opportunistic fungi, as well as a multitude of leaf-guzzling insects. A chainsaw, like an electric guitar, struggles through some chords and performs the last rites, cutting parts of the contorted trunk into manageable logs for firewood in local hearths Now lying spread-eagled, smelling of resin, birds descend on it for a Sunday morning breakfast, scampering round its bulbous trunk, gorging on its girth, fluttering and leaping about in the branches splintered across its exposed remains. They are all atwitter with the loss of a tree that had been both a hospitable host and stalwart friend, but is now lifeless, a grotesque sight, its innards, roots and filaments on display. A blackbird fossicks through thick dark-green foliage and brown leaf litter, hoping to find insects and spiders, before turning its attention to scratching noisily at leaves on branches. Gnats emerge dancing across the doomed carcass, joined by scuttling bark beetles inspecting the wreckage with forensic diligence before enjoying a buffet. On one thick branch a column of wood ants is on the march. Nervously, a jittery magpie circles down, hunkering on the lawn while a second one joins in and, living up to their nickname 'chatter-pies', they gossip in conspiratorial conversation about the veteran tree's demise, their long black tails wagging 19-to-the-dozen. The fall of the beech has left a gap in the tree-wall like a missing tooth, but the other trees around the lake are strangely reposeful. [ Ireland is waging a war on trees at a time when we need more of them Opens in new window ] The jagged edge of the remaining stump is reminiscent of a sharp rocky outcrop in the mountains. The groundsman appears, along with two local men, and I help sweep up leaves. A chainsaw, like an electric guitar, struggles through some chords and performs the last rites, cutting parts of the contorted trunk into manageable logs for firewood in local hearths. It might surprise many that the beech arrived in Ireland relatively recently, approximately 500 years ago. Beech has since naturalised itself, becoming, as in the case of Montalto, a mainstay of many Irish forests, woodlands and hedges. It keeps its lower branches clad in skirts of leaves that fan down to the ground while other trees concentrate their leaves only on their canopy. In the arboreal hierarchy, the beech is one of the groundsman's favourite trees. Light flecks of snow start to fall. Crows cross the lawn quietly. Two buzzards spool out of the woods. Word comes through of spectacularly destructive damage in other parts of the grounds, with further tree mortality. In some areas huge branches have fallen to the ground, snapped by the storm. Roofs have been damaged in stone buildings and wooden fences felled. All around, the debris created by the cruel hand of nature in the dead of a winter's night is a depressing spectacle. There is a palpable sense of bereavement in the January stillness. I reflect on the longevity of Fagus sylvatica, about the numerous seen and unseen dramas enacted inside it, the vast and complex whirl of life which revolved around it, the animals under its protection and about its spirit. Nobody could start to imagine what the tree had witnessed during its lifetime. The power of the storm has shaken birdlife. Its violent beauty may have wreaked havoc, but it has also released a mysterious energy Planted as a status symbol around the late 18th century, it has shed millions of leaves and leaf buds, been visited for fodder by hundreds of thousands of termites, ants, bees, moths, micromoths and butterflies, and lived through tens of thousands of moons and sunsets. It withstood the Night of the Big Wind on January 6th, 1839, and has competed for water, light and space, survived freezing nights and hot days, as well as countless storms. For centuries the tree was a feed-station of infinite beauty and complexity, while up to 100 species could have benefited from it. Generations of centipedes and millipedes, worms, aphids, leaf beetles and weevils, ladybirds, snails, spiders, woodlice, slugs and bugs, and an army of other insects derived comfort and shelter from it, gnawing its roots. [ Storm Éowyn's €500m toll on Irish forestry revealed by satellite imagery Opens in new window ] Mice and squirrels gobbled up its beechmast, the edible nuts of the beech lying on the ground. It provided protein and enriched the lives of a litany of varied species, who flirted with it and perched on its branches for social gatherings. How many crevices, nesting holes and roosts it harboured is anyone's guess; its bole has been sniffed, its resin tasted, its bark hugged, branches climbed and leaves kissed. The power of the storm has shaken birdlife. Its violent beauty may have wreaked havoc, but it has also released a mysterious energy. Around the grounds multiple wounds to trees are visible, with fractured or bent trunks spanning the width of the driveway. It resembles a silent battlefield. Hefty limbs have snapped, hanging limply with dazzlingly light wood interiors. A towering thin pine tilts at a more dangerous-looking angle than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The tree may be dead but it is still providing fodder for nutrients, and I feel a warm glow about knowing its secrets. From the skirl of the mistle thrush to the fluting notes of the blackbird, it played host to the calls of countless songbirds, while its branches were a perch for dynasties of wood pigeons. Visited by many, loved by all, it was an ecological megalopolis. How the mighty city has fallen. A Year in the Woods: Montalto through the Seasons by Paul Clements is published by Merrion Press.
