Category: Building resilience

Today marks the 104th anniversary of the Halifax Explosion – the largest man-made explosion prior to the advent of the Atomic Bomb. This story is well known to Haligonians, and indeed to most Nova Scotians, as it is marked annually with solemn ceremony. However, as this post addresses the split-second decision of a one man many people outside of Nova Scotia have never heard of, it is worth summarizing.

Background

On 6 December 1917 Halifax, and much of the World was at war. As Halifax is the largest, widest, and deepest ice-free port on the eastern coast of North America, it was a major port of embarkation for Canadian troops proceeding overseas – and for the transportation of military equipment and munitions. That morning two ships were on a collision course in the Harbour Narrows, near where the present-day MacDonald cross-harbour bridge stands. Their initially minor collision with engines dead and reversing would take a tragic turn within 20 minutes.

Twenty Fateful Minutes
SS Mont-Blanc, a French cargo ship laden with high explosives, including TNT, picric acid, gun cotton, and highly flammable liquid benzol collided with the Norwegian relief vessel SS Imo in the Narrows, a strait connecting the upper Halifax Harbour to Bedford Basin. The time was 08:45 A.M. AST. The initial damage to the Mont Blanc was not severe, but the barrels of benzol stowed on the deck toppled and broke open, flooding the deck and flowing into the hold. As Imo’s engines kicked in, she disengaged, which created sparks inside Mont-Blanc’s hull. These sparks ignited the aerosolized benzol vapours. A fire started at the water line and travelled quickly up the side of the ship. Surrounded by thick black smoke, and fearing she would explode almost immediately, the captain ordered the crew to abandon ship.

The Explosion

At 9:04:35 A.M. AST a massive explosion ripped across the North End Richmond Street district of Halifax. Approximately 1, 782 people in Halifax and in cross-harbour Dartmouth were killed by the force of the blast wave, which released the equivalent energy of approximately 2.9 kilotons (KT) of TNT. The force of this blast was incomprehensible in this pre-atomic bomb era. Mont-Blanc’s forward 90-mm gun landed approximately 5.6 kilometres (3.5 mi) north of the explosion site near Albro Lake in Dartmouth with its barrel melted away, and the shank of Mont-Blanc’s anchor, weighing half a ton, landed 3.2 kilometres (2.0 mi) south at Armdale. The floor of the Harbour was briefly exposed by a welling tsunami which rose as 18 metres (60 ft) above the high-water mark on the Halifax side of the harbour. In a manner similar to the Atomic Bombs dropped at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a pillar of white smoke rose to at least 3,600 metres (11,800 ft) above the devastated city.

The casualty total includes others who were killed by collapsing debris, and by fires ignited by overturned stoves and lanterns, and by the tsunami. Approximately 9,000 others were injured, 300 of which died due to the severity of their injuries. Hundreds of onlookers were blinded by flying glass.

Many Heroes
There were heroes aplenty that day, Halifax Fire Department West Street Station 2 was the first to arrive at Pier 6 with the crew of the “Patricia,” the first motorized fire engine in Canada. In the final moments before the explosion, hoses were being unrolled as the fire spread to the docks. Nine members of the Halifax Fire Department lost their lives performing their duty that day. Captain Horatio Brennan and crew of the tug Stella Maris tried to tow the burning Mont Blanc away from Pier 6. A whaler from HMS Highflyer and a pinnace from HMCS Niobe also responded bravely with firefighting hoses. Only five men of approximately fifty involved survived the ensuing blast.

One Man’s Fateful Decision
As horrific as it was, the casualties could have been much higher had it not been for the self-sacrifice of one man. Canadian Government Railway (formerly Intercolonial Railway) Dispatcher, Patrick Vincent (Vince) Coleman. Coleman was operating a telegraph at the rail yard about 230 metres (750 ft) from Pier 6, where the explosion occurred. Coleman and his Chief Clerk boss, William Lovett, learned of the dangerous cargo aboard the burning Mont-Blanc from a sailor and initially started to flee. Then Coleman stopped, as he remembered that an inbound passenger train from Saint John, New Brunswick, was due to arrive at the railyard at 08:55 A.M. AST. He retraced his steps, sat down at his telegraph key, and sent out repeated telegraph messages to stop the train. Several variations of the message have been reported, among them this one from the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic:

Hold up the train. Ammunition ship afire in harbour making for Pier 6 and
will explode. Guess this will be my last message. Good-bye boys.

The Aftermath
Coleman’s telegraph message was responsible for bringing all incoming trains to a halt. Passenger Train No. 10, the overnight train from Saint John heeded the warning and stopped a safe distance from the blast at Rockingham, which saved the lives of about 300 railway passengers. According to its Conductor J.C. Gillespie, the train was held by the Dispatcher 6.4 km (4 mi) away from the blast and suffered only blown out windows. Gillespie, on his own initiative, took “…cold, barefoot, and torn people” from the Willow Park Junction back to Truro that afternoon by 4:00 P.M. As mentioned in his witness statement “I went to work. Filled the train full.” He also recorded the names and addresses of all he took aboard.

Coleman’s desperate signals likely saved thousands of now-homeless survivors, who survived the blast and the snowstorm that followed the next day. His telegraph signals were heard by other stations all along the GCR/ICR rail line, which helped railway officials to respond immediately, with relief trains filled with medical personnel and construction workers arriving in Halifax from Truro, Kentville, New Glasgow, Amherst, Moncton, later that day. If he had not sent this signal, it is unlikely that the response would have happened in such a fortuitous manner as no-ne outside of Halifax would have known what had happened. The Halifax Garrison went to general quarters as it was believed by many observers outside the immediate blast radius to be a German attack. This rapid response also facilitated clearing sufficient debris to put the Port of Halifax back into operation within a week.

Coleman died at his post. Vince Coleman’s split-second decision to return to his post, and certain death, is commemorated in a Canadian Heritage Minute in 1991.

Why Commemorate Coleman?
There were certainly other heroes that day – in the responding ships, from the Fire Department, in the immediate crisis and from the surviving servicemen and private citizens in the aftermath of the explosion. The other heroes certainly knew that death or injury was a possibility, but Coleman stands out because he leaves the only record of knowing that he was going to die as a result of his staying at his post. What factors led to this selfless, and ultimately altruistic act?
No-one but Vince knows for sure what went through his mind in those last moments. However, we draw from what is known of his life story. Coleman had received a commendation from ICR for stopping a runaway train several years earlier, so it is evident that he could take decisive action at the risk of his own life. Perhaps he was thinking of protecting his wife Frances and four children who lived just 0.6 kilometres (0.38 miles) away on Russell Street. Or perhaps it was simply that he knew that no-one else had full knowledge of what was happening and who had the ability to send those crucial messages. I would like to think that it was the latter, in the style of the French saying, he was “Le bon homme au bon moment” (trans. The right man at the right time).
Would that we could each be “Le bon homme (ou la femme) au bon moment.” I would feel better about our society – knowing that such people are among us, prepared for their moment, with the presence of mind, and the willingness to sacrifice themselves for their fellow humans.