It was my birthday and Peter was taking me out for a lovely Italian meal. Smoothing down my hair, I pulled on my stockings and looked around for my silky trousers. I’d had a long soak after a particularly hard shift at work and was really looking forward to our night out. I wrinkled my stockings up between my fingers and slid them from my toes up over my legs, making sure not to snag them with my nails, and carefully clipping them onto my suspender belt.
Peter was pottering in the other room, waiting for me as usual.
‘Won’t be long,’ I called to him through the open bedroom door.
‘Okay,’ he replied as I grabbed my blouse, and then I heard the phone go.
‘I’ll get it,’ he called as he picked it up in the hallway.
I was rooting through my underwear drawer for a pair of knickers when I heard Peter’s voice. It sounded panicked and urgent.
‘When? How many? Of course, we’ll be there in 10 minutes,’ he said, putting the receiver down.
Moments later, he was standing in the doorway.
‘Joan, there’s an emergency at the pit. Don’t get dressed up, love. They want you at Hatfield. There are three men buried.’
I gasped, threw my silky trousers and blouse on the bed, and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. There was no need for posh clothes now.
This was my worst nightmare. What could I do when there were men buried?
Peter’s car dashed along the rain-soaked road as I looked out of the window at the blackened night, wondering what would face me when I arrived at the scene. Living only a few miles away from the colliery had its benefits: I could be on the scene within minutes if there was an emergency, and this certainly was that.
Ken Deeming, the pit manager, spotted the headlights of Peter’s car and came over towards us. His face was flushed and worried.
‘How many?’ I asked as soon as I jumped out of the passenger seat. ‘How many men are trapped underground?’
‘There were three, but the rescue team has managed to get two out. But there’s still one lad trapped, deep underground.’
I began to run towards the offices to get changed, but Mr Deeming called after me.
‘Sister Hart, we think he’s in a bad way.’
My stomach twisted with fear. That poor man, trapped underground with heaven knows what injuries. Bill greeted me as soon as I entered the room. Bill and Peter had become good friends. They’d often sit and chat as Peter waited for me to finish work and take me home in the car. Bill knew I was worried and tried his best to make me feel better.
‘Dr Macdonald’s on his way,’ he explained, ‘but he said you’re to go ahead with oxygen, Entonox, intravenous-giving set … and the surgical kit.’
Bill didn’t have to say any more because I knew exactly what he meant. I’d need the surgical kit in case an urgent amputation was required.
At that moment, Mr Deeming ran in after me.
‘Get in your underground gear,’ he ordered.
I wasn’t offended by his gruff tone and I didn’t take it personally. This was an emergency; there was no time for niceties or small talk. As Bill collected the essential equipment together I went into my office to get changed into my blue boiler suit, helmet and pit boots. But as I pulled off my jeans and looked down I got quite a shock. I was wearing my stockings from our abandoned night out but, in my rush, I’d forgotten to put on a pair of knickers! My heart sank to my knees as I looked at my stockings with dismay – they were made of nylon and were extremely flammable so I couldn’t wear them underground! With no time to spare, I pulled on my overalls and prayed that there weren’t any splits in the seams. The boiler suit was baggy, with big open legs, so I tucked the hems deep into the top of my boots. Even though I’d drastically altered it with needle and thread, the NCB issued them to fit big, burly miners, not a petite woman like me!
With no time to lose, Mr Deeming and his deputy picked up the heaviest equipment while I grabbed the saline and intravenous drip. I kissed Pete goodbye as we headed towards the pit shaft.
‘You go home and I’ll ring you when I get out,’ I insisted.
‘No way,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘I’ll wait in your office and help the other lads.’
Deep down, I’d have preferred it if Peter had gone back home because I knew it was going to be a long night. But he respected all the men at the pit and he liked Bill in particular, so I knew he’d be okay.
Together with the manager and deputy, I marched across the yard to the lamp cabin to collect our lamps, batteries and checks, which we’d need underground. We arrived at the shaft side where the banksman was waiting by his wooden hut to send us into the pit. He secured the gates and pulled a lever, sending the cage down. Normally, we’d have had a laugh and a bit of banter, but tonight was different. With a man trapped underground the atmosphere was sombre – everyone was subdued and quiet. The onsetter at the pit bottom had the paddy train ready to take us inbye to the district.
‘Were you off out tonight, then?’ Mr Deeming asked as we travelled along in the darkness. The lights from our helmets lit the way dimly as we ventured deeper and deeper into the mine.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It’s my birthday. Peter and I were planning to go out for a meal, but we never made it.’
‘Oh,’ he said, his face changing.
Without warning, his hand shot down into his pocket. I watched as his fingers fumbled awkwardly for something until finally they located whatever it was he was looking for. After a few moments he triumphantly pulled it out into the light.
‘Want one of these, then?’ he smiled, holding up a packet of Polo mints.
I chuckled as I took one. He turned to his deputy and offered him a Polo too before they both turned back to face me.
‘Happy birthday, Sister Hart!’ they chorused as we trundled along in the paddy train towards the trapped miner.
I felt apprehensive as we neared the scene, but suddenly I spotted three shadowy figures sitting at the entrance to the collapse. It was the two men who had escaped, along with the first aider. I quickly examined them and was relieved when I found no bleeding or obvious fractures. The first-aid man filled me in on what had been happening.
‘We got ’em out quickly, Sister. They’re both fine, just a little shocked.’
I told him to escort the men to the bottom of the pit and to get the ambulance driver to take them to Doncaster Royal Infirmary.
‘But make sure the ambulance returns for the other man,’ I called after him.
‘Rightio, Sister,’ he shouted as the men disappeared off into the darkness.
I got to work. The man had been buried for well over an hour under heavy rubble in stifling heat underground. It was dark and difficult to see, but his colleagues had erected a temporary shield to protect him from more rock falls. As I neared him in the darkness I fumbled around in the limited space I had. Thankfully, I realised that they’d managed to free his head and face, and pull an air pipe to allow him to breathe and keep cool. Surprisingly, he was not only conscious, but quite cheerful too.
‘Ay up, Sister,’ he gasped as soon as he saw me, a half smile playing on his lips.
‘You owe me a meal for this, Charlie,’ I joked as I stretched down, trying to reach him.
Charlie looked up, a little confused. I could tell he was totally exhausted but relieved to see a friendly face.
‘Meal, Sister? Why?’ he asked.
‘Because I was just going out.’
‘It’s her birthday,’ Mr Deeming called from behind me.
Charlie grinned and, without warning, the men burst into song with a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. I stifled a laugh because I had work to do, but the camaraderie and goodwill among the mining fraternity never ceased to amaze me, especially at a time like this.
‘Okay,’ said Mr Deeming, bringing the song to a halt. ‘Let’s get on with it. You can kiss her when she’s freed you! Now, Sister, we have to assess his condition.’ Mr Deeming sucked thoughtfully on his Polo mint and, before long, a decision was made.
‘Right,’ he said, pointing at me. ‘You’re the smallest, so the two deputies will hold your ankles and lower you down. You must try to examine his damage and position.’
I nodded in agreement. I was the smallest so it made perfect sense. But as I prepared to be dangled I remembered one thing and one thing only – I wasn’t wearing any knickers! However, there was no time for modesty, and just moments later, there I was, hanging by my ankles as two burly miners lowered me upside down into the confined space.
Please don’t let there be any splits in the seams of this overall! I prayed silently.
‘Right, Charlie,’ I said, getting closer towards the trapped miner. ‘What position were you in when the fall occurred? Were you sitting, standing or kneeling?’
‘I was sitting, Sister,’ he said, gasping for air.
‘Right, then. I need to feel your legs.’
I heard the men laugh from up above.
‘Lucky sod!’ one called down. ‘You watch her, Charlie; just shout if yer need any help!’
I ignored him and felt around through the rubble to see what I could find. It was hard trying to treat a patient in the dark, miles below the earth’s surface, upside down and wearing no knickers, but finally my hand brushed against something – his legs.
‘Right, I’ve found his knees,’ I called back up. ‘Could someone pass me a Stanley knife?’
There was a hush from up above until a lone voice broke the silence.
‘Oh, Christ! She’s going to cut his bloody legs off!’
I tried not to laugh because, if I did, I knew they might drop me, and then I’d be trapped alongside poor Charlie.
‘No’ I said, shaking my head, ‘not his legs, just his knee pads – they’re too tight!’
I glanced upwards just in time to see one of the men put a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart.
‘Well, thank God for that,’ he sighed as his mate passed me the knife.
After a bit of a struggle I somehow managed to cut the straps around Charlie’s knees. I called for them to lift me back up and pull me out of the hole. The blood had rushed to my brain and I was feeling quite light-headed by the time my feet were planted back on the ground. They were all waiting for my assessment.
‘He’s having a lot of pain in his arm but his legs aren’t trapped, so you’re going to have to try to yank him out,’ I said. ‘I think you should remove a bit more rubble and then get him out. Just mind his arm, though, won’t you? That needs attention. But we can’t leave him much longer; if we do he’ll go into shock.’
‘How about giving him a shot of morphine for the pain?’ one of the deputies suggested.
I shook my head.
‘We can’t do that because he’s under a lot of rubble and I can’t rule out head injury. But I’ll give him Entonox when you get him out.’
It took another 10 minutes or so before Charlie was finally pulled free from the rubble and laid on a waiting stretcher. By this time the first aider had returned, so he examined him below the waist while I did his chest and arms. Charlie had suffered a complicated fracture of his radius and ulna (two large bones in the forearm) but, thankfully, there were no other obvious fractures.
‘His ankles are swollen but, other than that, I can’t find owt else,’ the first aider reported.
With no head injury to treat, I was able to administer Entonox while we splinted his arm to help ease the pain. It was decided that we’d transport Charlie directly on the belt to get him out of the pit quickly. The conveyor belt was usually used to take coal from the face to the pit bottom, but in Charlie’s case it became his very own underground ambulance. I hated riding on the belt because you had to be able to get off quickly when it was moving, which I always found to be quite a challenge. But Charlie’s needs were greater than mine, so I hopped on with Mr Deeming and his deputy. We told the four men carrying the stretcher to load Charlie onto the belt and to jump on. We’d travelled quite a way when we suddenly spotted Dr Macdonald and the NUM representative heading towards us. We stopped the belt as Dr Macdonald glanced all around us with a puzzled look on his face.
‘Where’s the patient, Sister Hart?’
I gestured behind me but Charlie wasn’t there, and there was no sign of the stretcher or the four men who’d been carrying it. Fearing the worst, the managers, the doctor, the union rep and I ran back down the pit like the Keystone cops, trying to find Charlie. The stretcher-bearers had decided that the belt was far too dangerous to load Charlie onto, so they’d agreed to carry him. There were lumps of coal on the belt and the men were worried that they’d knock against him, so they’d carried Charlie out the rest of the way. Dr Macdonald examined the patient and decided that he needed an intravenous drip. I was terrified because I’d never helped put up an intravenous drip in the pitch black before. The doctor spoke to Charlie and explained that he needed to put a needle in his arm.
‘Is that okay?’ the doctor asked gently, patting him lightly on his good arm.
‘You can shove it up me arse, Doc, as long as you get me out of t’bloody pit!’ he whined.
The other men laughed and so did I. Charlie spotted me and apologised.
‘Excuse me language, Sister Hart,’ he grinned weakly.
Charlie was exhausted, his body had gone into shock and his veins were collapsing, so it wasn’t easy, but somehow Dr Mac got the needle in. Meanwhile, I made a better splint from a cardboard box.
‘Just hold the drip bottle up, Sister,’ Dr Mac ordered, so I did as I was told.
By this time, the deputies realised that Charlie was in good hands and left us to it. When we finally reached the top of the shaft the pit ambulance was waiting. I was still holding the drip bottle up as we loaded Charlie in, and I remained that way, with my hand high in the air, as we travelled to hospital. By the time we eventually arrived my arm was killing me, although not as much as Charlie’s. Thankfully, the staff at A&E had been notified and there were a couple of doctors waiting as the ambulance pulled up outside. They took over immediately and whisked Charlie away. I decided to go and check on the other two men who’d been brought in earlier. They’d been seen, X-rayed and discharged with no major injuries. I asked the ambulance driver to take them back to the pit so they could shower and clean themselves up.
‘I’ll stay here and wait to see how Charlie is, but could you come back in a bit?’ I asked as I slammed the ambulance door.
‘Okay, Sister Hart,’ the driver called out through the half-opened window. He pulled away and headed back towards the colliery.
It was nearly midnight and I was tired and filthy, sitting inside a sterile hospital dressed in a helmet, overalls and pit boots. I glanced down at my hands; they were blackened, and my fingernails ruined – so much for my glamorous night out. Suddenly, the casualty officer burst out into the corridor shouting my name.
‘I’m looking for a Sister Hart?’ he called. ‘I need her to speak to the pit manager …’ he said, glancing around at everyone but me.
‘That’s me!’ I said, sticking my hand up in the air like a schoolgirl.
He took one look at me and turned up his nose. But as he took me in, from my filthy feet to the top of my head, he spotted the name SISTER HART sprayed on the front of my helmet.
‘Yes,’ he said, the disdain obvious in his voice. ‘So I see.’
I knew I wasn’t exactly his idea of how a nurse should look, and I also realised he didn’t appreciate my pit boots and overalls messing up his pristine corridor, but Charlie was my main concern and as long as he was all right then I’d done my job.
‘The patient is, er, being admitted,’ he informed me. He rubbed his fingertips against his white coat as though my coal dust was catching.
‘Right, I see. And is he going to be all right?’
‘Yes, but he will have to be admitted and taken to theatre to have a plate to repair the fracture.’
‘Okay,’ I nodded. ‘We’d better inform the mines inspector, then.’
The man took one last look down his nose at me, turned on his heels and disappeared off through a set of double doors.
Half an hour later, the pit ambulance returned and I climbed in and headed back to Hatfield Colliery.
‘Let’s just call in at Charlie’s house on the way back so I can let his wife know he’s okay,’ I said.
The driver nodded and we headed over there to deliver the good news. Thankfully, Mr Deeming had already notified her that her husband had been involved in an accident, but she seemed grateful for the latest update from me.
‘My son’s just on his way so we’re heading t’hospital right now,’ she said as soon she answered the door.
Moments later, as she passed, she grabbed one of my filthy hands in hers and gave it a tight squeeze.
‘Thank you, Sister Hart. Thanks for coming to see me.’
And then she was gone. I returned to the pit, showered the grime away and reported to Mr Deeming. It had been a birthday to remember, but I was delighted when I saw that Pete was still there, waiting to take me home – the most understanding and patient husband in the world.
‘Sorry about the meal,’ I said, giving him a hug, my eyes filled with tears of relief.
‘Never mind. There’s always another day. At least Charlie’s all right,’ Peter said, hugging me back.
Charlie was taken to theatre. My makeshift cardboard splint was removed and a plate was inserted into his arm to correct the fracture. He was off work for a while, but as soon as he returned he came to the medical centre to see me.
‘You gave me quite a scare there, Charlie,’ I teased as soon as I saw him.
‘Thanks for everything,’ he said, and made to leave before stopping. ‘Oh, and I forgot to say, like …’
‘Yes, Charlie,’ I replied, glancing up from my desk.
‘Happy Birthday, Sister Hart.’ He grinned.
I smiled, but as I did he winked at me and said something quite unexpected.
‘I bet those lads got quite an eyeful when they dangled you down by the ankles. Let’s hope you had your best underwear on, Sister!’
With that, Charlie left the medical centre, but I could still hear his laughter in the yard outside as he walked away.
My mouth fell open and I felt my face flush a deep shade of scarlet. I still can’t be sure, even to this day, if Charlie knew about my knickerless secret or if he was just winding me up, but from that day on I made sure I always had an emergency pair of knickers in the office, just in case.